Cambridge U., the Life of the Mind

Can you objectively recall experiences involving yourself? Can you rely on your memory of events in your life? Can you remember your past without distortion — without underplaying some elements or enhancing others?

I was aware that Enlightenment values are on the wane in our modern world, that reason and rationality are in retreat, that relativism wins more converts each year, that cellphone ringtones are sounding the death knell of contemplation and thought. But even I never thought I'd be the last man on earth who would answer yes to such questions.

Never, that is, until my recent immersion in Cambridge University.

In vain did I canvass among my 120 fellow students in Cambridge's summer literature program, seeking a like-minded soul with faith in the integrity of his own thought processes. I finally came to suspect that the species to which I belong — an order of homo sapiens possessed of a belief in truth, rationality, impartial inquiry, and the possibility of reconciling opposing views through the use of reason (a process referred to in former times as "the marketplace of ideas") — may, once I expire, be completely extinct.

That event — my expiry, and the termination of the species I represent — won't necessarily cause insurmountable grief to all the wonderful people I encountered at Cambridge. My native proclivities brought about no small degree of consternation among many of the folks I met. And even among some I never met. Dr. Fred Parker, for example, the director of the literature program, responded as follows when I dropped him a note requesting an audience:

I would rather not meet with you, for I might find it difficult to remain polite.... Nevertheless, I assure you that I will give serious thought to your criticisms.

I had indeed enclosed, together with my request to meet, some comments I'd written about the program's "plenary lectures." (The so-called plenary lectures were daily lectures to be attended jointly by all the literature students. The courses, on the other hand, involved smaller groups, as 4 or 5 alternative courses were given in each course time slot.) But that didn't seem to adequately explain Parker's refusal to meet even once with a student wishing to discuss the program for which, as director, he presumably bore some responsibility. Many students besides myself had quite negative opinions about various aspects of the program. Had no one told Parker?

Students were urged to fill out and submit feedback questionnaires at the end of the program each year. Had last year's students been markedly more satisfied than this year's? Or did the reigning view, that memories are always self-indulgent, correctly describe Parker's recollection of comments received the year before?

Article Author: Uriel Wittenberg

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