When my parents were in college, the students were revolting. Not just in the sense that several of them didn't shower very often or were afflicted with the undergraduate curse of nauseating self-righteousness. I mean they were rioting in the streets and burning things. Organized "Angry Groups" like Students for a Democratic Society and their conservative counterparts had plenty of members. The year before my parents arrived, protesters even set fire to the union, and, since it wasn't a concrete monstrosity like the Bryan Center, it burned.
I can only imagine the university's promotional literature; probably it touted the "involvement" and "enthusiasm" of the zealots on campus. But administrative whitewashing aside, it is pretty clear this was not a great climate in which to get an education.
Meanwhile, my parents were also in an Angry Group. Their society called itself the Aardvark Liberation Front, and its members were angry about Angry Groups. Really. The ALF had all the trappings of a "real" movement, including a newspaper, a mascot (take a wild guess) and a political wing, the Apathetic Party. For years, the Apathetic Party even held a majority in the Student Senate. After all, 60 percent of the students did not vote, and every non-vote was... exactly.
The ALF's greatest political triumph came when they showed up en masse at a Students for a Democratic Society meeting and voted in a new constitution. The regular members' response? Eject the Aardvarkist interlopers from the meeting and bar them from future participation. Brilliant strategy from the staunch advocates of Giving Power to The People, So Long as The People Agree With Us.
The Aardvark Liberation Front was by no means a conservative organization, though. In fact, if its members' current political leanings are any indication, it was pretty liberal (my mother hasn't voted for a Republican president since Nixon, and no, I won't let her forget that). What set it apart from the more "serious" left-leaning organizations was something implicit in its opposition to Angry Groups: Its members realized that issues are never simple.
For example: American soldiers in Vietnam were not butchers and the Viet Cong were not freedom fighters. On the other hand, a draft that sent mostly poor men to fight while the sons of the ruling class hid in the National Guard (or college) was fundamentally wrong. Oh yes, and if you call your group Students for a Democratic Society, you'd better be prepared for days when democracy means that people you don't like get elected.
This column, however, is not about history. It's not even about the Aardvark Liberation Front. Instead, it's about the lessons we might draw from stepping back and realizing that fervent belief doesn't have to imply a desire to avoid or shout down opposition.
This realization ought to happen more often, particularly at a university. The trouble with campus discourse at Duke is not that students here don't have ideas or that the administration is conspiring to suppress dissent. The trouble is that when students come here thinking a certain way and are enthusiastic and articulate about their beliefs, they tend to join-are encouraged to join-organizations composed of people who think exactly the way they do.
It's the activities fair writ large. Conservative? Join the DCU. Think slave labor is bad? Students Against Sweatshops has a place for you. You're a selfish, rich snob who's been misreading too much Ayn Rand? The Duke Review is hiring. Christian? Chapel services are Sundays at 11 a.m. for Protestants, 9 p.m. for Catholics. And so on.
Why don't we say, "Oh, you're a radical left-winger? Come to the Duke Conservative Union meeting. We'd like to hear what you have to say, and we're going to listen to you without smirking." And if we did, why wouldn't the leftist accept the invitation? Why do most of our self-consciously earnest panel "discussions" seem to have a specific agenda before they even start talking?
I'm not saying campus political organizations are a bad thing. In fact, I think they can be excellent ways of fostering discussion. But what we have now isn't intellectual discourse. It's preaching to the choir. Until that changes-until we seek out people who think differently instead of hiding in our comfort zones-we aren't going to make progress on issues that really matter.
And a whole lot of aardvarks are going to live and die in unenlightened, unliberated darkness.
Margaret Harris is a Trinity senior. Her column appears every third Thursday.
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