During Oxford's matriculation, every student is required to don his or her sub-fusc, consisting of formal attire and academic gown. Why? It's a tradition. For every exam given at the university, students are similarly required to dress up. Why? Tradition. And for every formal hall dinner, students must wear these same gowns, even though they may be wearing only jeans and a T-shirt underneath. Why? You guessed it: tradition.
Naturally, any institution that has existed since the 13th century, even surviving the Black Plague, will have a whole slew of traditions that remain until the present day. Many of these traditions are integral parts of the university, and if removed, would no doubt change the establishment forever. Even the traditions that do not seem particularly essential at first glance, as in the above instances, still possess a sentimental, historical and cultural value that cannot and should not ever be summarily disregarded.
But as time progresses so does its surrounding environment, and in struggling to keep up with the latest trend, time will eventually rear its curious little head and ask, "When should a tradition cease to be a tradition?"
For example, traditionally Oxford used to deny females the right to attend its colleges until only recently (merely six centuries after its founding) when it opened its gates to both genders. Analogous traditions based on gender and race can be found in United States academia. Of course, these examples depict a fairly black-and-white scenario in which a tradition, upon close inspection, should be eliminated without question; the vast majority of issues we typically encounter reside in a much more nebulous area.
Take, for instance, a much more pressing issue at hand right now at Oxford pertaining to its primary teaching methodology: tutorials. Currently, Oxford and Cambridge receive a larger percentage of government funding to pay colleges for their tutors; Parliament however, is in the process of evaluating the effectiveness of this teaching method in comparison with regular classroom teaching and semester examinations at other universities. Thus, if the British government decides via its evaluations that Oxbridge should no longer receive its extra funding, the tutorial system may collapse altogether, thereby destroying a centuries old tradition.
On the surface this decision sounds very cut and dry: If the funding doesn't result in superior academics, then discontinue this funding and make Oxbridge conform to the methods of teaching used by the majority. Things are not always as easy as they first appear to be, however.
First, how is the government really supposed to compare the "effectiveness" of the two teaching systems? Because their methods of evaluating students are completely different it would appear that they would be trying to compare apples and oranges. But even if some schema could be devised to solve this problem, there is another obstacle that prevents any solid conclusion from being reached: the element of tradition.
In an economic sense, the traditional tutorial system provides an immeasurable value-added benefit to its students. The tutorial system carries with it a rich history of academic excellence that has existed for hundreds of years and has helped maintain Oxford's reputation as being one of the finest educational institutions in the world. How can this information be reduced into a simple little formula comparing x and y?
In essence, the tutorial tradition inherently defines Oxford University just as Eruditio et Religio (et Basketballio) inherently defines Duke. You cannot have one without the other, period. To strip Oxford of its tutorial system would be to strip away its prestigious and honorable history, its intimate culture, and would consequently destroy the very moral fiber of the university. Oxford would simply cease to be Oxford.
Therein lies the difficulty with passing judgment on tradition: The benefits it offers cannot always be accurately measured. Thus if wrongly taken away, the damage could be potentially devastating; however, as illustrated by our earlier example, tradition may sometimes be in error and therefore be in need of being removed. This puts our own University at a dangerous impasse, for now my original question surfaces once again, but in a more specific context: When should a tradition, such as bench burning, cease to be a tradition? Just ask Mother Nature.
Why? Because traditions are formed by an evolutionary process that gradually matures over a specified period of time. Contrary to popular belief, they are neither spontaneously created by an arbitrary committee at the snap of a finger nor determined by a one-time vote in Parliament. There is probably a pretty good reason why tutorials remained the dominant method of teaching; likewise, there is probably an equally good reason why bench burning has endured the test of time.
So when the time comes, let the foam party begin and allow natural selection to run its course. If superior, the suds will win; otherwise the bonfire will engulf its temporary challenger and continue to live until defeated by a more worthy opponent.
Rod Feuer is a Trinity junior.
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