First I heard the screams—piercing, otherworldly screams. Caterwauls and whooping and ululation. Then the pitter-patter of scurrying feet. And I saw, flashing in the distance, the red and blue lights of emergency vehicles. Meanwhile, a chopper whirred overhead.
Such were the sights and sounds of Chapel Hill Saturday night. Why would any self-respecting Blue Devil be at UNC while the Duke men’s basketball team was battling its archrival in Cameron? For one, my scholarship requires me to spend the spring semester of my sophomore year at UNC-Chapel Hill. But, you might be thinking, at the very least I could have watched from Duke.
The truth is, after viewing Duke's victory over Carolina earlier this semester from a UNC common room, I got hooked on the sight of weepy, sniffling, despondent Tar Heels. Schadenfreude is an addicting emotion, and I wanted another hit. But after Duke's loss Saturday night, I was the one feeling dismal. It was with a heavy heart that this disappointed Blue Devil donned Carolina blue and joined the revelers on Franklin Street.
What I saw shocked me. They chanted a call-and-response: "Taaaaaaar?" "HEELS!" "Taaaaaaar?" "HEELS!" They burned couches. They took selfies and linked arms and unfurled banners. These celebrations weren't shocking because they were spontaneous and spectacular. They were shocking because they were so familiar, because evoked a certain déja vu: the memory of Duke's victory over UNC last spring and the subsequent rejoicing on the West Campus quad.
Duke and UNC are not so different. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that our two universities would be nothing without each other. They are engaged in an unending, almost Manichaean struggle. Rivalry is the ultimate form of interdependence. Like two stars in a binary system, Duke and UNC are locked in each other's orbit, emitting different shades of blue, defining themselves in relation to each other.
Each university is a community knit together by myth, memory and symbol—the foundations of enduring group identity. When I visit my friends at Duke, they'll often ask in a concerned air: "So how is UNC?" And when I answer, "Terrific!" or "Great!" they seem surprised. After all, Duke students overwhelmingly approach the idea of UNC with a smug, self-assured sense of superiority.
Humbling moments like Saturday night's loss should challenge us to rethink such assumptions and consider what UNC does well, and where Duke might do better by imitating our rival down the road. Here are three areas where UNC has got us beat:
1.UNC has more homegrown political and civic engagement.
Carolina doesn't need a glitzy "summer of service" program with a $30 million endowment to foster civic engagement. A constellation of student groups, including a hub for social justice and service called the Campus Y, make political and civic engagement a cornerstone of Carolina's culture. Walk through The Pit on a typical day and you'll be accosted by Tar Heels shouting the language of engagement: "Register to vote! Join our alternative spring break trip! Sign this petition!" It's a scene teeming with a level of enthusiasm unrivaled even by Duke groups tabling on the BC Plaza during a sunny day.
2.UNC students aren’t caught up in how busy they are.
"Effortless perfection" is a misnomer. At Duke, there's nothing effortless about effortless perfection. We Duke students pride ourselves on how busy we are, the number of midterms we have to surmount in a coming week, how well we’re doing despite the ridiculously few hours of sleep we got last night. This impression crystallized a few weeks ago when, to my horror, I watched two of my Duke friends compare their Google Calendars to determine who was actually busier.
In contrast, UNC students aren't unbearably busy all the time. Last month, as I was collecting signatures for a UNC student body president campaign, three out of every four passing Tar Heels would actually stop for 20 seconds to sign their names and ask questions about the campaign. Anyone who's ever tabled on the BC Plaza knows the frustration of trying to get passing Duke students to slow down and spare a few seconds of their time to contribute to a worthy cause.
3.At UNC, the idea of a liberal education is alive and well.
At a time when Duke's curriculum review suggests loosening the foreign language requirement and mandating that students pursue a major plus some other academic credential (a policy that will only contribute to the "Credentialitis" epidemic), the idea of a liberal education—that is, a broad education aimed at preparing students to participate in a free society—remains vibrant at UNC.
Yes, Carolina students gripe about having to fulfill curricular requirements just like students anywhere else, but the dividends from UNC's curriculum accrue immediately. I've witnessed UNC juniors and seniors, having completed the required classes in UNC's liberal arts curriculum, apply the knowledge and reasoning skills they've gained to deliver thoughtful analysis and pose illuminating questions in one of my seminar classes.
Furthermore, my experience in that class—a well-loved Honors Carolina course called “Elements of Politics”—contrasts starkly with my classes at Duke. Everyone does the reading. No one is angling for "participation points." People actually listen to each other. If people have their computers open, they're taking notes, not texting friends on iMessage, scrolling through Facebook or shopping on Amazon. The students at Carolina aren't afraid to say, "I don't know," or to ask questions about a passage they don't fully understand. We leave class knowing that we’ve only scratched the surface of the works we’re reading.
My education is richer and fuller for this study of contrasts between Duke and UNC. I’ll admit it: there are some times when it’s a good day to be a (temporary) Tar Heel.
Matthew King is a Trinity sophomore. His column runs alternate Mondays.
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