An old urban legend at Duke is that Edens Quadrangle was built to discourage student protests and rioting in the 1960s. Edens-a confusing maze of entrances and stairwells that all look the same, have absolutely no signs and tend to frustrate any comings or goings-was built in 1966, during the escalation of American involvement in the Vietnam War.
Duke supposedly built the Edens dormitories to prevent the college protests which started popping up around the country starting around 1964. In theory, students aiming to go out and protest their government's involvement in the war would be frustrated by the intricacy of Edens' stairs and many entrances, get disoriented and retreat back to their dorm rooms.
In reality, Edens isn't really confusing enough to prevent students from leaving. But it is interesting to think, or at least pretend, that at one time our student body was such an opinionated and intimidating force that the administration had no choice but to build massive structures to diffuse their power.
Because, right now, Duke students seem a little out of it. A little unconcerned. They come off as unaware of what is going on around them, whether it be in our own community or the world at large. Before you become enraged and fire off an e-mail to me about how you just voted in North Carolina's elections or how you're selling T-shirts to help save the developing world, let me clarify, I know that I am making a blanket statement. I know how involved some students are. It's very hard to ignore. But I'm talking about everyone else.
There is a large population of contented nihilists at Duke. Students who are satisfied with their isolated world, which occasionally expands to include Shooters and Brightleaf Square, but often centers around the campus. We go to classes, go to the gym, we do our work, hang out, go to parties. Then we repeat the whole thing over, going some days without glancing at a real newspaper headline, talking about a real problem in our community or doing something to help. If there's someone tabling for a cause, we'll probably ignore them, unless they offer a sassy T-shirt or brownies. If there are people protesting, which there occasionally are, we walk by. Quickly.
There is nothing really pushing us to act, to believe in something or, at least, to make ourselves aware.
Juvenal, a Roman poet in the first century, criticized an uninspired and decadent Roman people by saying that all they required to be content was "bread and circuses." It angered him that, as long as they were provided with food and entertainment, the population felt no need to question their current regime or strive for any kind of heroism.
This seems an accurate commentary on the current climate at Duke, perhaps even more accurate if we replace "food" with "beer" and "circuses" with "frat parties and basketball." Don't get me wrong; I like these things. But when the loudest student outcry on campus is over the decision not to serve alcohol at Tommy's... Rubs, Grubs and Suds, alarm bells go off.
Our parents' generation was characterized by protest and change, with college campuses being the center of these changes. That kind of excitement is lacking here. The kids in my dorm can't even summon enough awareness of community to clean up after themselves in the kitchen. They have nonetheless launched an enthusiastic campaign to recover a stolen box of Franzia.
Maybe it's unfair to compare our activism, or lack thereof, with that of forty years ago. Not enough is at stake for us. None of us has experienced being glued to the commons room TV, hoping a brother or a boyfriend's number doesn't get picked in the draft lottery. But, even so, just like during the Vietnam War, our country and our world are building up and breaking down around us. And our own small community suffers from problems going unaddressed.
Still, students seem satisfied with what they have been provided with, with making grades and enjoying themselves. It's easy not to believe in anything bigger than your own life when you're warm, happy and fed. Change can start with simple things, like reading CNN.com once in a while or volunteering in Durham. But, honestly, where is the drive for change? Where is the incentive?
Lindsay White is a Trinity sophomore. Her column runs every other Tuesday.
Get The Chronicle straight to your inbox
Signup for our weekly newsletter. Cancel at any time.