It is incredible that nearly four years have already passed since I first stepped onto this campus as an anxious freshman and that I now write my farewell column. Perhaps, some of you were expecting another stinging piece from me, but I must disappoint you, as the College has espoused in me no bitter feelings. In fact, I will depart this June with a conviction that my decision to attend Dartmouth was, perhaps, the wisest decision I have ever made.
I love Dartmouth for its commitment to undergraduate teaching, complemented by its emphasis on research -- a challenging balance that is more than a sales pitch and one which a few distinguished professors have indeed mastered. During my time here, I was fortunate enough to meet two of them: Professor of Government Roger Masters and Professor of English Donald Pease. They furthermore demonstrated to me that their dedication to their fields was not motivated simply by their intellectual curiosity, but also by their burning desire to give relevance to their scholarly insights for the world outside academia. When it is fashionable for academicians to produce obscure papers about which no one but their half-a-dozen colleagues care, I have found their drive invigorating and noble. If I ever decide to pursue a life in academia, I will always aspire to become like them.
I love Dartmouth because it has been a "haven for intellectuals," where one can pursue a rich education outside the classroom. Never has there been a day when I was not lured into a thought-provoking discussion addressing life's important issues. I am indebted to those willing participants in my late-night conversations -- those who have relentlessly challenged and sometimes fundamentally reshaped my views. Among them, a few deserve recognition.
Readers of my column would know by now that Won Joon Choe, the most brilliant student of political theory I have ever encountered, has had a tremendous impact on my intellectual growth. He introduced me to the Straussian school of thought, a school that has revolutionized our interpretation of political philosophy, for instance, by illustrating the biases of historicism. By lecturing me on Leo Strauss' insights, he has toppled my unfounded belief in man's moral progress, as well as my blind faith in the Enlightenment ideology. He has shown me the perilous nature of modern liberalism, a value-destroying doctrine that leads to close-mindedness, a phenomenon Straussian theorist Allan Bloom eloquently portrays in his "Closing of the American Mind."
My conversations with Jaysen Park '98 have most frequently revolved around nihilism, the belief in nothingness brought about by the ills of Western modernity. We grappled with the disheartening implications of the demise of metaphysics carried out by modern scientific progress. In such an alienating world, we asked ourselves, how does one bless life with new existential meaning? As two "displaced persons" -- having personally witnessed the onslaught of our respective cultures by the ideology of modernity -- he and I have found solace in the great works of literature, like those of Hess, Dostoevsky and Nietzsche, who spoke to us with their poignant stories about their own ontological struggles.
Of course, I cannot fail to recognize Abiola Lapite '98, perhaps the single most extraordinary individual I have personally known. He has illustrated how my literary and philosophical knowledge is utterly worthless in my effort to project, and prepare for, the future. He has awaken me from my "metaphysical slumber" with the wisdom that "creative destruction" that secures one's place in history is life's essence. It is a crime against humanity, in fact, to settle for a commonsensical life in which I earn, perhaps, $300,000 a year in upper management, build a decent family that reminds me of a sit-com and retire in a crime-free suburb. No, I say now to such a life, for I must strive for more -- to unfold history according to my vision. Lapite has taught me what it means to live.
I love Dartmouth also because I have made friends with impeccable character, those whom I have come to trust. With them, I have shared not my intellect, but my heart -- the human sentiments we too often neglect by enslaving ourselves to intellectualism. And I appreciate Dartmouth for the moments of solitude it has lent me, as one cannot only force oneself through tomes of books or conversations to solve all puzzles of life. Answers may drop into our minds while we stand quietly on the Green, late in the night, gazing at Orion above us or, perhaps, when we sit alone in our rooms, listening to Bach or Mozart, touched by their legacies centuries after they were erected.
Lastly and most importantly, I love Dartmouth because I found here a woman with whom I will share the rest of my life. For this, I will eternally be grateful.
