By Kevin D. Williamson
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
New Haven, Conn.
— Really, Yale — you shouldn’t have! All this for little ol’ me?
It wasn’t really for little ol’ me, in fact. On Friday, I
was honored to be a guest of the William F. Buckley Jr. Program at Yale, where
I participated in a panel on freedom of speech with the wonderful writer Harry
Stein and Professor Bradley A. Smith, a noted law scholar. The Yale kids did
their screaming best to prevent us from having a conversation about free speech
— the Yale kids are utterly immune to irony — but the event went much as
planned. Coming and going, we were chanted at by idiot children screaming,
“Genocide is not a joke!”
Of course it isn’t. Yale kids, on the other hand . . .
For the first several years of my life, I thought that
“Yale man” was a synonym for “caveman,” because the only references to Yale I’d
ever heard were from Thurston Howell III, who greeted displays of barbarism
with “Heavens! A Yale man!” I thought of that when the police officer was
obliged to carry the shrieking protester out of the venue where he’d come to
put a stop to our free-speech discussion.
If you’re wondering about the genocide thing, so were we.
Turns out it’s a fairly typical college story — which is to say, a fairly
stupid story — the short version of which is that Yale’s sensitivity babysitter
sent out a pre-Halloween e-mail reminding all the smart Ivy League kids not to
dress up like Al Jolson in The Jazz
Singer; Professor Erika Christakis offered a reply bemoaning that college
campuses have become “places of censure and prohibition”; a few students
consequently went bonkers because their safe spaces were being invaded; and —
here’s where we come in — Greg Lukianoff of the Foundation for Individual
Rights in Education, one of our panelists, remarked that these hysterical
ninnies were acting like Professor Christakis had burned down an Indian
village.
Which is to say: The idiot children were screaming about
Lukianoff because he said they were overreacting to Christakis’s criticism that
they tend to scream and overreact.
Well played, idiot children.
Of course, these idiot children aren’t children. These
are young adults who can serve in the military, get married, buy firearms,
drink alcohol, etc. They are at the beginning years of adult life, but they are
entirely unprepared for adult life. It’s fashionable to blame Yale and other
elite institutions for this sorry state of affairs, but, while the colleges
certainly do their share of damage, the truth is that these children are
maladjusted buffoons when they show up in New Haven. Yale doesn’t make them
into hysterical ninnies — their families do.
There is a certain strain of upper-middle-class American
culture that cultivates an excess of self-importance that grows cancerous when
it isn’t counteracted by a deep understanding that the world is full of things
that are much more important than you are: God, country, the rest of the human
race. That American striver culture has many invaluable aspects — it is the
culture that produces the high-achieving students who go to Yale and other
elite institutions — but in the absence of transcendent values it turns
everybody into a miniature Donald Trump. If your concerns in life are limited
to personal economic advancement and status whoring, then everything —
literally — is about you. That’s when you see things like Lena Dunham’s dopey
political advertisements, which reduce citizenship to another shallow channel
of self-satisfaction: Never mind patriotism, never mind history, never mind
anything else — what does your vote say about you? How do it make you feel?
I understand why the idiot children at Yale are so
sensitive. Really, I do. I sometimes list in my mind all of the poor, suffering
people who get a raw deal in this life, and Yale students are always right at
the top, with the Bangladeshi orphans and women traded by sex traffickers in
Vietnam. Yale isn’t a safe space, Congo isn’t a safe space — it all makes
sense, as long as you don’t expect it to make sense.
No, genocide isn’t a joke. I’m sure that the women and
children being raped to death by Boko Haram appreciate that the idiot children
at Yale are making stern faces and pumping their fists. As for me, I think that
they’re clowns, and worse than that, really: They’re bad citizens, and
defective people from defective families. They aren’t motivated by good will,
but by fear: of the dawning realization that they, as people, aren’t really all
that important, despite having been told all their lives how important they
are.
We’re all real sorry about your safe spaces and your
pacifier and your stuffed puppy, Caitlyn. Really we are. Yet the perpetual
revolution of configured stars continues in its indifference, and the lot of
man is ceaseless labor, and though you may find the thought terrifying — and
thinking itself terrifying — it may turn out to be the case that the screaming
in the dark you do on campus is more or less the same screaming in the dark you
did in the crib, the same howl for the same reason.
No comments:
Post a Comment