When I was in my late teens I had this very romantic notion of what went on at universities. There was this authenticity and happiness and “learningness”–if I might be permitted indulgence in my neologistic hobby–that went on. Kids were free and they did and said cool things and listened to cool music. There was this vibe of being different than the dull mundane sameness of suburbia. All my problems were going to vanish.
I was a profoundly stupid kid. I say this with absolute sincerity and painfully clinical precision.
But water rolls downhill, does it not? Clouds that are full rain, and in the right conditions seeds will always grow. I was at that age who I had to be.
I went to good schools. I majored in the quirky sorts of things that normally get you locked up in a coffee shop or bookstore somewhere. This was not wasted time, but it was time spent finding what was NOT a pathway forward.
The path of the intellectual–the thought esthete–is not one of emotional skill, social productivity, or anything but self absorbed narcissism which protects against the ravages and conscious awareness of sheer uselessness.
These people litter average cities. They litter universities. They float like seeds on the wind, but they never flower. Theirs is a self important flatulence that to the extent it has an effect makes things worse.
I no longer have positive feelings about universities. I admire the productive parts, but view the rest as worse than useless.
If the task of the Liberal Arts is teaching self government in both the personal and national sense, then they are failing. This is incompetence, and it is precisely the utter futility of calling someone in one of these places incompetent who hews to the proper ideology such a name that makes the whole thing stink.
I don’t “long” any more. I seek understanding–actionable understanding–that when applied should lead to useful outcomes. I am quite prepared to alter my views and processes if and when it should be necessary.