“And I submit that this is what the real, no bullshit value of your liberal arts education is supposed to be about: how to keep from going through your comfortable, prosperous, respectable adult life dead, unconscious, a slave to your head and to your natural default setting of being uniquely, completely, imperially alone day in and day out.”

-David Foster Wallace, author and all-around incredible human being

Many of us came to college because it is the only available option for us. Think about that sentence. Think about the massive amount of privilege inherent in the statement: college is your only option. Conversely, some of us fought, kicking and screaming, for the opportunity to attend college because we recognize the privilege of having that education. Junot Diaz, at his inspiring speech last Thursday for SHOUT weekend, said that one percent of the world has the privilege of going to college.

It also reminded me of Angela Davis’ lecture for SHOUT weekend last spring who said the logic of incarceration, of creating docile bodies stripped of their will and autonomy, has permeated out into educational systems. Diaz also spoke to this troubling trend in education, distinguishing between “accreditation” and “education.” Accreditation, according to Diaz is going through college with your defenses up, never challenging yourself or your convictions and getting your degree: the piece of paper that will open up a world of material resources but leave you profoundly empty. Education, Diaz said, is going to college, opening yourself up to becoming confused and lost, finding your bearings and emerging a radically transformed person.

I want to add another layer to Diaz’s distinction, and I think it is something young people think about and are paralyzingly afraid of. It is abstract and might sound really dumb and pretentious here, but it is something that Wallace (quoted at the very beginning) is trying to get at: how does one lead a compassionate life?

Hopefully, you will have a lifetime of education with regard to that question, but I think some lessons can be learned from your time on the Hill. But that involves evaluating honestly and critically why you came to Colby and what you do now that you are at Colby.

I remember being in my Constitutional  Law class with Professor Reisert (whose class was wonderful and who himself is excellent, which means something coming from a raging Marxist). I forget the larger point he was trying to make, but it came down to asking the class why do you come to class? From a rather disengaged student came this train of thought: I come to class so I don’t fail. I don’t fail so I can get my degree. I get my degree so I can get a good job. I get a good job so I can make money. The logic ended there. Whether this student was saying shit just to say it, or whether this is actually why this student came to college is beside the point. The point is that there is something unbelievably dehumanizing and troubling about this kind of apathy. The sad part is that this is a logic that is fed to us and we believe in.

To be successful, happy and well-adjusted, we are told, we need to have money to buy stuff that will fill any existential void. This logic promotes a deep and uninterrogated selfishness: you are worshipping at the altar of the self. It asks you to turn inward and not care that this kind of material bliss is available to a small, privileged segment of society. Your goal in life is to belong to this materially blessed segment of society and everyone else’s suffering is not your concern. College becomes just a means to this goal. You become a docile body, another cog in the vast, undifferentiated framework of global capital.

If that sounds bleak, it should. However, this is not always the case. The hastily organized “Gender, Power and Community” panel this past Wednesday reminds me that there are students on this campus who are incredibly concerned with other people’s ability to be happy on this campus. These students have an investment in other people on a profoundly human level.

I posit then, that a way to combat the dehumanizing logic of the self is to actually give a shit about other people, especially people you would never usually fraternize with. Recognize your shared humanity. Given Colby’s small size, it is the perfect place for you to develop your awareness and exercise this muscle, this capacity to care.

If you’re a government major, take a Women, Gender and Sexuality Studies (WGSS) class. The ways in which gender and sexuality work in politics are quite fascinating and will deepen your understanding of your major. If you’ve never really thought about social justice issues on this campus, attend a PC Coffee event. If you’re a WGSS major, take an economics class. Critiques of capitalism are easy to make, but actually understanding how the market works will help you in your quest for social justice. If you’re straight, go to a Bridge meeting. If you think all feminists hate men, attend a Feminist Alliance meeting and have this misogynistic thought debunked. If you’re a woman or man who holds stereotypes about male athletes, attend a Male Athletes Against Violence meeting. If you think classical music is dumb, attend an orchestra concert. If you think football is dumb, attend a football game. Try to fathom the passion these students have for their craft.

We freak out about the hard alcohol ban because it gets in the way of our sense of entitlement, the taken-for-granted and wholly disgusting thought: I should be able to do whatever I want. If we could marshal the kind of broad-based passion that the hard alcohol ban elicited in the general student body and apply it to issues of social justice or issues that require empathizing with someone unlike yourself, think about how transformative that could be.