Newsletter

April 2015

The decline of Harvard by coddling sheeple

Barry Cooper

Over the Christmas
break, I did some work at Harvard. On the first walk between my hotel and the
archive, I noticed several changes since my last visit, years ago. Inside one of
the gates was a sign: Tobacco-Free Harvard Yard.

It was not just
smoke free, but, starting last summer, devoid of tobacco products. Some objected
to the ban because anyone transiting the yard can easily avoid the deadly fog of
second-hand carcinogens. Others observed that Harvard students are as aware of
health risks as anyone, so the paternalism and implied infantilizing of students
insulted their intelligence.

One of the
supporters of the ban said that, because of so many visitors, “it was actually a
type of global health intervention at the micro-level.” At least Harvard’s
self-importance remains unimpaired.

Last spring, I had
read a piece by Jessica Korn in the undergraduate newspaper, The Crimson, that
called for “academic justice” to replace academic freedom. No research
“justifying oppression” would be permitted. Since she had one of my friends
there in mind, I paid attention.

There was also an
article in The New Yorker by Jeanne Suk who teaches at the law school. She
reported that it has become risky to discuss rape as a criminal offence. One of
her colleagues was told to avoid the term “violate” — as in “does this activity
violate the law?”— because it might induce traumatic memories.

Often such
complaints are accompanied by demands for “trigger warnings.” These are intended
to strike a balance between academic freedom and hurt feelings. This is not
censorship, advocates say, but sensitivity training. How sensitive is enough?
Being sensible rather than sensitive is not an option.

Another anecdote:
after the Ferguson grand jury refused to indict police officer Darren Wilson,
the law students asked to have their exams postponed because they were so
traumatized.

When I asked what
had happened to Harvard, I was told to read two books. My friends were academics
after all. One, Why Teach? by Mark Edmundson, and a second, Excellent Sheep, by
William Deresiewicz, would explain things.

Having done so, I
can recommend them not only as accounts of a pathology that has invaded the
greatest university on the continent, but one that has made significant inroads
at the University of Calgary as well.

During the
mid-1980s, universities began to model themselves on businesses. Administrators
were no longer academics who avoided teaching and disdained research, but senior
leadership teams who rewarded themselves accordingly. Their eyes were very high
as they sought prestige and profit.

Admissions offices
became marketing departments.

If the
student-customers didn’t find Latin and Greek sufficiently appealing, should we
dissolve the classics department? The question answers itself because the best
students, as former U of C president Harvey Weingarten said, attend the business
school where they are credentialed for workplace productivity and success.

Such students are
polite, mild, well-mannered, well-groomed, well-spoken and well-medicated.
Everything they do goes on a resume. As Deresiewicz put it, they “think for
themselves, but only because we want them to.”

Teachers interested
in their students’ long-term welfare ask them what they want from their
lives. You know,

things like
happiness. When universities become corporate villages rather than scholarly
enclaves, such questions disappear. When students know what they want but have
no clue why, there are costs.

The celebration of
“HaskayneHappyness” day last week at the business school was billed as a break
from the stress and depression of January. No one noticed that the need for such
a break meant that the students attracted to Haskayne were not happy in their
studies.

Poor kids.

Barry Cooper teaches happy political science students at the University of Calgary.

Calgary Herald, February 4, 2015.