There are a number of things that are particularly anomalous about the American college experience when compared to life in the real world. Many college students live in walkable neighborhoods, something that is remarkably rare in the United States. Only about half of college students participate in the labor force, making it one of the few groups of American adults where broadbased unemployment is accepted. One of the activities relatively unique to college students is the broad use of and participation in shared spaces. College students frequently live, study and socialize in shared spaces that are managed by their institution.
In the case of Dartmouth, this is especially true. In fact, it’s almost impossible to avoid common spaces in your day-to-day routine, whether it’s sharing a long Foco table with a group of fellow students or crossing the Green on a spring day as people play spike ball. For many, inhabiting these spaces becomes a sort of second nature. The reality, however, is far more complicated. A war of knowledge has attempted to shape your use and perception of public spaces since the late 1960s, and enemies of public space have largely won. In this column, I will offer a spirited defense of communal space and resources and attempt to set the record straight.
In 1968, ecologist Garrett Hardin coined the term “tragedy of the commons” to describe the phenomenon by which a public resource inevitably gets exploited and pilfered by self-interested actors. Many of you may be familiar with the phrase “The Tragedy of the Commons” – it has seeped into popular use, and I distinctly remember the lesson I had about it in my high school AP Environmental Science class. It is frequently cited as an argument for privatization and the adoption of wide-scale private property. Hardin coined a phrase that described a debate dating all the way back to Aristotle, who wrote in “Politics” that “which is common to the greatest number has the least care bestowed upon it.” (1261b34)
It’s easy to wholeheartedly believe in the tragedy of the commons, and in some cases it’s proven true – overfishing and overgrazing come to mind. It might be tempting to see these as arguments in favor of privatizing more fisheries and more grazing land. However, if we examine our current dilemma and the tragedy of the commons more critically, these solutions seem completely daft.
In its catastrophization of public ownership, the tragedy of the commons neglects basic history. Since the passage of the enclosure acts in England and the adoption of widespread private property across modern Europe and the United States, the right to exploit land has belonged primarily to private property owners. In recent years, oligopolists have used this right in ways that are just as irrational as the way the tragedy of the commons describes the angry mob, specifically in the name of profit.
Take energy companies, for example. Climate scientists say that to avoid the completely catastrophic consequences of global climate change, 58% of known oil reserves and 89% of known coal reserves must stay in the ground. Yet, 96% of oil and gas companies are still searching for new oil and gas reserves, and expansion of these searches is up 33% since 2021, the same year that the International Energy Agency said that no new fields were needed.
Considering the implications for our collective future, does it seem so unreasonable to propose that we vote on future use of these reserves, rather than letting a handful of oil and gas executives who are irrationally exploiting resources to the long-term detriment of their and our existence do so? If the teeming masses’ irrational impulses about resource management must be tamed, why shouldn’t we do the same to the destructive impulses of profit?
In academic fields, the tragedy of the commons has largely been disproven. Nobel Prize winning political scientist Elinor Ostrom has shown through her research that there have been countless historical examples of resource management without privatization or governmental management. Some systems she studied had avoided the tragedy of the commons for hundreds of years, simply through strong community bonds and mutual trust and respect.
This all may seem completely separated from our campus life, but I see a clear analogy. Although some may argue that much of Dartmouth’s spaces aren’t technically “public,” many of them, like our library with unlocked doors, functionally are. The majority of Dartmouth students treat our spaces with respect and don’t steal computers left out in the library because they are afraid of being caught by a member of the administration –– our public spaces are sustainable because our campus has a tight knit community, and students have mutual respect for each other.
So much of student experience is dismissed as artifacts of “college life.” Everything from walkable neighborhoods to more public spaces are thought of as utopic fantasies that can only be accomplished in closed and very specific communities. However, the academic consensus on the tragedy of the commons serves as a powerful parable against these automatic conclusions and suggests that the way we organize our society is not necessarily as inevitable as those in power wish us to think it is. In many of these cases, the obstacle to a more collaborative life is less practical and more ideological.
Opinion articles represent the views of their author(s), which are not necessarily those of The Dartmouth.
Eli Moyse ’27 is an opinion editor and columnist for The Dartmouth. He studies government and creative writing. He publishes various personal work under a pen name on Substack (https://substack.com/@wesmercer), and you can find his other work in various publications.
