It will not escape the reader that the
student movement of the past few years has — quite independently — developed
a very similar critique, often with the same rhetoric. Again, one can point to
exaggerations and even flights of fancy, but it would be a mistake to overlook
the kernel of truth within it.
A further reason why the problems of the universities have become a more
urgent concern than heretofore is that the universities have, on an unprecedented
scale, come to the center of intellectual life. Not only scientists and scholars but
also writers and artists are drawn to the academic community. To the extent
that this is true, to the extent that other independent intellectual communities
disappear, the demands on the university increase. Probably this is a factor in
the university crises of the past few years.
With the depoliticization of American society in the 1950s and the narrowing
of the range of social thought, the university seems to have become, for many
students, almost the only center of intellectual stimulation. Lionel Trilling, in
a recent interview, pointed out that he cannot draw on his own experience as
a student to help him comprehend the motivation of the "militant students" at
Columbia:
Like all my friends at college, I hadn't the slightest interest in the
university as an institution: I thought of it, when I thought of it at
all, as the inevitable philistine condition of one's being given leisure,
a few interesting teachers, and a library. I find it hard to believe
that this isn't the natural attitude. 5
This is an apt comment. In the past, it was for the most part the football
and fraternity crowd who had an interest in the university as such. But in this
respect there have been substantial changes. Now it is generally the most serious
and thoughtful students who are concerned with the nature of the universities
and who feel hurt and deprived by its failings. Twenty years ago [in 1949], these
students — in an urban university at least — would have looked elsewhere for the
intellectual and social life that they now expect the university to provide.
Personally, I feel that the sharp challenges that have been raised by the
student movement are among the few hopeful developments of these troubled
years. It would be superficial, and even rather childish, to be so mesmerized
by occasional absurdities of formulation or offensive acts as to fail to see the
great significance of the issues that have been raised and that lie beneath the
tumult. Only one totally lacking in judgment could find himself offended by
"student extremism" and not, to an immensely greater extent, by the events
and situations that motivate it. A person who can write such words as the
following has, to put it as kindly as possible, lost his grasp of reality:
Quite a few of our universities have already decided that the only
way to avoid on-campus riots is to give students academic credit
for off-campus rioting ("fieldwork" in the ghettos, among migrant
workers, etc.). 6
Consider the assumptions that would lead one to describe work in the ghettos
or among migrant workers as a form of "rioting," or, for that matter, to regard
work of this sort as necessarily inappropriate to a college program — as distinct,
say, from work on biological warfare or counterinsurgency, which is not described
in these terms. Less extreme, but still seriously distorted, is the perception of
the student movement expressed by George Kennan, who is concerned with
what he sees as
the extremely disturbed and excited state of mind of a good portion
of our student youth, floundering around as it is in its own terrifying
wilderness of drugs, pornography, and political hysteria. 7
Again, it is striking that he is so much less concerned with the "extremely
disturbed and excited state of mind" of those responsible for the fact that the
tonnage of bombs dropped on South Vietnam exceeds the total expended by
the U.S. Air Force in all theaters of World War II, or with those responsible for
the anti-communist "political hysteria" of the 1950s, or, for that matter, with
that great mass of students who are still "floundering around" in the traditional
atmosphere of conformism and passivity of the colleges and whose rioting is
occasioned by football victories.
The irrationality which has been all too characteristic of the response to the
student movement is itself a remarkable phenomenon, worthy of analysis. More
important, however, is the effort to take the challenge presented by the student
movement as a stimulus to critical thinking and social action, perhaps of a quite
radical nature — a necessity in a society as troubled as ours, and as dangerous.
Since World War II we have spent over a trillion dollars on "defense" and
are now spending billions on an infantile competition to place a man on the
moon. Our scientists and technologists are preparing to construct an antiballis-
tic missile system [ABM] at an ultimate cost of many billions of dollars though
they know that it will contribute nothing to defense, that in fact it will raise
a potentially suicidal arms race to new heights. At the same time, our cities
crumble, and millions suffer hunger and want, while those who try to publicize
these conditions are investigated by the FBI. It is intolerable that our society
should continue to arrogate to itself — in part for consumption, in part for uncon-
scionable waste — half of the far-from-limitless material resources of the world.
There are simply no words to describe our willingness to destroy, on a scale
without parallel in the contemporary world, when our leaders detect a threat to
the "national goals" that they formulate, and that a passive and docile citizenry
accepts.
It may appear to be an extreme judgment when a social scientist, a native
of Pakistan, asserts that "America has institutionalized even its genocide," re-
ferring to the fact that the extermination of Indians "has become the object
of public entertainment and children's games. 8 A look at school texts confirms
his assessment, however. Consider the following description in a fourth-grade
reader of the extermination of the Pequot tribe by Captain John Mason:
His little army attacked in the morning before it was light and took
the Pequots by surprise. The soldiers broke down the stockade with
their axes, rushed inside, and set fire to the wigwams. They killed
nearly all the braves, squaws, and children, and burned their corn
and other food. There were no Pequots left to make more trouble.
When the other Indian tribes saw what good fighters the white men
were, they kept the peace for many years.
"I wish I were a man and had been there," thought Robert. 9
A child who acquires such attitudes in the school will become the man who can
behave in the way described by a British eyewitness:
I asked one American who had just ordered a strike on some huts
and sampans (blowing the latter to bits with parts of the boat and
the bodies flying in all directions) if air attacks like that did not
kill many harmless civilians. "But people shouldn't continue to live
here," he said. 10
[Critical analysis of our institutions and ideology]
It is hardly necessary to add that attitudes created in the schools are supported
by the mass media, not only directly but by their encouragement of a general
passivity. There is much truth in the observation of Paul Lazarsfeld and Robert
Merton that
these media not only continue to affirm the status quo, but in the
same measure, they fail to raise essential questions about the struc-
ture of society. Hence by leading toward conformism and by provid-
ing little basis for a critical appraisal of society, the commercially
sponsored media indirectly but effectively restrain the cogent devel-
opment of a genuinely critical outlook. 11
This is not the place for an extended discussion; it is enough to point out
that, for reasons suggested in these few remarks, it is a matter of great urgency,
for ourselves and for world society, that our institutions and ideology be sub-
jected to serious critical analysis. The universities must be a primary object
of such analysis and, at the same time, must provide the "institutional form"
within which it can be freely conducted. In these specific historical circum-
stances, it is useful to recall a remark of Bertrand Russell:
Without rebellion, mankind would stagnate, and injustice would be
irremediable. The man who refuses to obey authority has, there-
fore, in certain circumstances, a legitimate function, provided his
disobedience has motives which are social rather than personal. 12
It is these historical circumstances that define the context for a study of the
function of the university and the current challenge to the university.
Reactions to the recent wave of student unrest throughout the world have
varied widely. Nathan Glazer asks "whether the student radicals fundamen-
tally represent a better world that can come into being, or whether they are
not committed to outdated and romantic visions that cannot be realized, that
contradict fundamentally other desires and hopes they themselves possess, and
that contradict even more the desires of most other people." He tends toward
the latter view; the student radicals remind him "more of the Luddite machine
smashers than the Socialist trade unionists who achieved citizenship and power
for workers. 13 Consider, in contrast, the reaction of Paul Ricoeur to the massive
rebellion of French students in May 1968:
The signs are now eloquent. The West has entered into a cultural
revolution which is distinctively its own, the revolution of the ad-
vanced industrial societies, even if it echoes or borrows from the
Chinese revolution. It is a cultural revolution because it questions
the world- vision, the conception of life, that underlie the economic
and political structures and the totality of human relations. This
revolution attacks capitalism not only because it fails to bring about
social justice but also because it succeeds too well in deluding men
by its own inhuman commitment to quantitative well-being. It at-
tacks bureaucracy not only because it is burdensome and ineffectual,
but because it places men in the role of slaves in relation to the to-
tality of powers, of structures and hierarchical relations from which
they have become estranged. Finally, it attacks the nihilism of a so-
ciety which, like a cancerous tissue, has no purpose beyond its own
growth. Confronted with a senseless society, this cultural revolution
tries to find the way to the creation of goods, of ideas, of values, in
relation to their ends. The enterprise is gigantic; it will take years,
decades, a century 14
Glazer (like Brzezinski — see note 7) sees the student rebels as Luddites, dis-
placed and unable to find their role in the new society of advanced technology
and complex social management. They "come from the fields that have a re-
stricted and ambiguous place in contemporary society. 15 Ricoeur, on the other
hand, expresses a very different perception: in the advanced industrial societies
in the coming years there will be a sharp conflict between the centralizing force
of a technical bureaucracy, managing society for dubious ends, and the forces
that seek to reconstruct social life on a more human scale on the basis of "partic-
ipation" and popular control. Both interpretations sense that a major historical
process is under way. They differ in their judgment as to where they expect
(and no doubt hope) it will end, and correspondingly in the interpretation they
give of student dissidence and rebellion. Both expect the university to be at
the center of the conflict. Optimists may hope that it will be in the eye of the
hurricane — but it is more realistic to expect that it will continue to be caught
up in controversy and turmoil.
It is hardly in doubt that we are in the midst of a historical process of
centralization and bureaucratization not only in the economy but also in politics
and social organization. The crisis of parliamentary institutions is a worldwide
phenomenon. 16 Reactions can be seen not only in the university rebellions but
also in the search for forms of community organization and control — which have
9
forced their way onto the front pages in recent months — and even, it seems,
in tentative gropings toward more direct worker control, often in opposition to
the highly bureaucratized trade unions that are increasingly more remote from
the day-to-day concerns of those whom the leadership claims to represent. 17 In
Eastern Europe there are somewhat analogous developments.
[Commitment to a "few marketplace of ideas"]
The student movement must, I believe, be understood in this more general
context. The universities will not be able to isolate themselves from the profound
social conflict that appears likely, though its course can hardly be guessed. The
linkage of the universities to other social institutions, noted earlier, guarantees
this. In fact, there may be very serious questioning, in coming years, of the basic
assumption of modern society that development of technology is inherently a
desirable, inevitable process; and with it, a critique of the role of the university
in advancing knowledge and technique and putting it to use. When students in
Western Europe take as their war cry the chant "Ho, Ho, Ho Chi Minh," they are
not merely protesting the Vietnam War and the crushing of the poor by the rich
that it symbolizes; they are also reacting against the values of industrial society,
protesting the role assigned to them as managers of this society, and rejecting
the kind of rationality uninformed by any sense of justice, which — as they see it,
with considerable accuracy — translates into practice as the knowledge how to
preserve privilege and order but not how to meet human needs. The American
student movement is also animated in part by such concerns.
In many respects, the university is a legitimate target for protest. The un-
flattering portrait given by such critics as James Ridgeway may be overdrawn,
but it is basically realistic, and quite properly disturbing to the concerned stu-
dent. 18 Recognition of these characteristics of the university leads to revulsion
and often militancy. Nevertheless, the problem brought to the surface may be
irresoluble within the framework of the university itself.
Consider, for example, the matter of government contracts for research. It
is a classic liberal ideal, echoed also by Marx, that "government and church
should. . .be equally excluded from any influence on the school. 19 On the other
hand, there is little doubt that government research contracts provide a hidden
subsidy to the academic budget by supporting faculty research which would
otherwise have to be subsidized by the university. Furthermore, it is quite
probable that the choice of research topics, in the sciences at least, is influenced
very little by the source of funds, at least in the major universities. It is doubtful
that scientific education can continue at a reasonable level without this kind
of support. Radical students will certainly ask themselves why support from
the Defense Department is more objectionable than support from capitalist
institutions — ultimately, from profits derived by exploitation — or support by
tax-free gifts that in effect constitute a levy on the poor to support the education
of the privileged. 20
One legacy of classical liberalism that we must fight to uphold with unending
10
vigilance, in the universities and without, is the commitment to a "free market-
place of ideas." To a certain extent, this commitment is merely verbal. The task,
however, is to extend, not to limit, such freedom as exists — and this freedom is
not inconsiderable. Students are right to ask why faculty members should be
permitted to contribute to the weapons cult or to work on counterinsurgency.
They also point out, with much justice, that it is unreasonable to claim that
this is simply a freely undertaken commitment. Access to funds, power, and
influence is open to those who undertake this work, but not, say, to those who
would prefer to study ways in which poorly armed guerillas might combat an
enemy with overwhelming technological superiority. Were the university truly
"neutral and value-free," one kind of work would — as noted earlier — be as well
supported as the other.
The argument is valid but does not change the fact that the commitment
is nevertheless undertaken with eagerness and a belief that it is right. Only
coercion could eliminate the freedom to undertake such work. Once the principle
is established that coercion is legitimate in this domain, it is rather clear against
whom it will be used. And the principle of legitimacy of coercion would destroy
the university as a serious institution; it would destroy its value to a free society.
This must be recognized even in the light of the undeniable fact that the freedom
falls far short of the ideal.
In certain respects, the specific issue of Defense Department funding of re-
search is a misleading one. Research on chemical and biological warfare or
counterinsurgency would be no more benign if funded by the National Institutes
of Health or the Social Science Research Council, just as work on high-energy
physics is not corrupted if funding comes through the Department of Defense.
The important question is the nature of the work and the uses to which it is
likely to be put, not the bureaucratic issue of the source of the funding. The
latter is of some significance, insofar as one might argue that the Pentagon gains
respectability and power by its support of serious research. For American soci-
ety as a whole, this development is a very minor symptom of a real tragedy, the
ongoing and perhaps irreversible militarization of American society. But in the
particular case of the universities, these considerations seem to me marginal.
Another side issue, in my opinion, is the question of a campus base for military
research. In fact, the Vietnamese care very little whether the counterinsurgency
technology that is used to destroy and repress them is developed in the halls
of the university or in private spin-offs on its periphery 21 And to the victims of
the endless arms race — the present victims of the waste of resources, material
and intellectual, that are desperately needed elsewhere, or the possible future
victims of a devastating catastrophe — it is of little interest whether their fate
is determined in a Department of Death on the university campus or in Los
Alamos or Fort Detrick, hundreds of miles away. To move such work off cam-
pus is socially irrelevant. It might, in fact, even be a regressive step. It might
be argued that as long as such work continues, it would be preferable for it
to be done on campus, where it can become a focus for student activism and
protest that may not only impede such work but also contribute to growing
public awareness.
