Just try it

I don’t care for "A Clockwork Orange". I have got a pretty good stomach for unsavory scenes, but reading Anthony Burgess’s novel and watching Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation as a sophomore brought a visceral reality to violence that made me squirm. The fact that both the book and film were able to elicit such a strong reaction surprised and discomforted me further. Yet, it’s for those very same reasons that both works represent some of the best and most difficult academic discourse I’ve been exposed to as an undergraduate.

That’s why the decision of several freshmen to boycott this year’s summer reading selection, "Fun Home", seems so misplaced. The book confronts the difficulties of embracing a sexual identity incongruent to societal and familial norms. It challenges readers with a visual representation of that struggle and has no qualms about illustrating the sometimes-fatal complications. For many people, those concepts are difficult to reconcile. However, they also represent the emotional and intellectual realities of thousands, if not millions, of people who live in the United States. Choosing to reject the book without opening it up is no different than a child refusing to eat broccoli because it’s green.

To systematically reject intellectual content you don’t agree with is antithetical to the university construct. Most college campuses are predicated on the idea of advancing academic discussion, challenging ideas and pushing boundaries in the process. Those discussions allow students to evaluate their own beliefs, challenge those of their peers and ultimately make sense of a world that is far more complicated than black or white and right or wrong.

In fact, that notion of right or wrong is exactly what "A Clockwork Orange" confronts head on. Burgess uses his protagonist Alex, whose penchants for Beethoven and sexual violence are indistinguishable, to question whether we are born good or made good. He asks whether government has the right to instill—or rather install— proper morality through improper methods. Those questions are inherently difficult to grasp, let alone answer. However, failing to tackle or even acknowledge them represents a failure to embrace critical thinking and a broader perspective. A Clockwork Orange doesn’t offer up a neat little bow or a happy ending largely because society’s grander questions rarely give us either. Simply averting your gaze from books and novels you don’t agree with doesn’t make the questions they pose or the realities they convey disappear.

What’s seemingly been lost in the controversy surrounding this year’s summer reading selection is the fact that—textbooks excluded— it’s absolutely okay to disagree with what’s written. Reading a novel is not a binding endorsement of its content or message, and without reading it there really is no way to raise awareness about the shortcomings it might present. Dissenting opinions carry as much weight as the message of a book itself, and the following discussion stimulates what is hopefully a vigorous and illuminating debate. Choosing intellectual content that affirms an ideology stunts personal and social dialogue, a form of self-censorship that, frankly, neglects diversity of thought.

Few would blame someone for avoiding something they don’t like or find uncomfortable; people consistently and justifiably avoid foods, activities and individuals who fit that bill. Fortunately, academia doesn’t. The academic climate of Duke, or any university for that matter, shouldn’t be reduced to a set of taste buds where students sample and consume only what they agree with. A university presents the opportunity to, perhaps more than any other time or place, challenge your socialization, dive into the unknown and reach conclusions substantiated by multifaceted and challenging experiences.

The diverse array of viewpoints that comprise Duke students were gathered specifically to help advance and challenge academic conversations that have been handed down for generations. The right to freely express and discuss controversial topics is a privilege that has endured immense struggle. I would argue that students, more so than others, have a responsibility to seize that opportunity and infuse it with new ideas. Fresh conclusions can’t be reached and problems can’t be solved if the best and brightest are reluctant to immerse themselves in the conversation. This isn’t meant to be an indictment of any one individual’s discomfort but rather an invitation to engage it in a previously undiscovered way.

It’s okay not to like the taste of broccoli, but you can’t make that determination just by looking at it. The next time you see a book, movie or class that might not sit well with your stomach, just try it. You just might be surprised at what you find.