I was amazed by the evident contradictions in an email sent out last week concerning the fight against hunger. Students were enticed to attend a meeting about the struggle against hunger and health issues in the world by offering them free food. I was even more surprised to see that I was one of few to react to this rather ironic message. It seems to me quite pathetic that there is a need to bribe students into attending meetings concerning global issues, as our own drive to promote change is too weak of an incentive.
It is interesting (if not just sad) that Dartmouth students expect a bribe or an exchange to attend the many events put up by active groups on campus. Both faculty and student organizers have observed students' attraction to food, and quickly adopted feeding as a method of rallying support for their individual causes. It is impossible to forego the endless number of blitzes or posters advertising upcoming happenings promising: "There will be free food!"
Although I am tempted to point my finger at Dartmouth students for their shockingly faltering spirit, I must admit that the seduction of food is non-exclusive to this college. I clearly remember how the Amnesty group in my high school managed to achieve almost full participation in their petition writing by the simple expedient of offering students pizza slices in exchange for their support. As I watched these hungry students devour their food while passively pleading for equality and justice in far-away places, I was swept away by a profound sense of doubt and faithlessness in our generation.
I see alarming tendencies among students to become blinded by their own good fortune. The comfort of this place leads us to forget the grim realities of other parts of the world. We develop an ignorance that becomes clear when we hear students ask: "Will there be food?" when contemplating whether or not to attend a lecture by worldwide distinguished lecturers. The meager guilt, felt by some students over their overwhelming interest in free food over the actual lecture, is suppressed by a justificatory feeling of participation: "I went to the meeting, therefore I am an active student."
In a New York Times op-ed on October 10, Thomas L. Friedman referred to our generation of college students as "Generation Q" when describing us as "the Quiet Americans, in the best sense of that term, quietly pursuing their idealism, at home and abroad." But as I agree with the quietness, I begin to doubt the idealism of Dartmouth students. It is true that a vast majority of students have experiences from studies or projects abroad, but the impact of these trips is primarily restricted to individuals; students forget to share their experiences with the larger student body as a way of giving back to the community what was offered to them by the College. We can witness a few souls, still in possession of their desire to make a difference, struggle to evoke student engagement to little avail. Despite their tireless efforts, they are still forced to bribe students into caring. I agree with Friedman as he continued to say: "Generation Q may be too quiet, too online, for its own good, and for the country's own good. When I think of the huge budget deficit, Social Security deficit and ecological deficit that our generation is leaving this generation, if they are not spitting mad, well, then they're just not paying attention."
My intention is not to pressure students into becoming passionate about something or to change the world and this country, but to simply point out the danger of normalizing this backwards passivity that we are collectively pulled into. We do not need food to become concerned with the issues awaiting us on leaving this school. We should be able to show more interest in a future that is no more than four years, or less, ahead of us, rather than having to be bribed with cookies and brownies to express our ideas and beliefs. We need to regain the conviction that brought us here in the first place, and use it in a more productive manner than eating away our opportunities to make a difference.
