Discussion in France is a contact sport. I spent my spring break in Paris, staying with my French cousin, who is a student at the equivalent of a graduate business school. A few nights into my visit we celebrated the birthday of one of his classmates -- five of us packed around a table for a little fromage and discussion. Before long, there was a palpable tension in the room, as the E.U., the death of optimism among the French youth, and Franco-American relations all came under the scrutiny of the present Parisians.
Congeniality was abandoned as soon as discussion began. Insults were hurled across the table without second thought, and interruptions were frequent. Conversation amplified, with voices reaching a thunderous crescendo, until one of the debaters had the good sense to remind the rest of the time (11:00 p.m.) and the neighbors (directly above). Everyone quieted down for a bit, but before long the whole spectacle started anew.
I watched all of this with stunned detachment. "How," I asked myself, "could these people call each other friends?"
To me it seemed they were sworn enemies. When I mentioned this thought though, everyone laughed, noting that this was simply the French style of argumentation.
Our generation, in America, seems weary of such confrontational discussion. Called "Generation Me" by some, we take ourselves seriously; insulting someone's intelligence, even if done indirectly, is taboo.
Even at Dartmouth, an Ivy League school, heated debate is rare. Sure, students have involved discussions, but far less often are people willing to bring conversation to a level that could be deemed confrontational. This sometimes means stopping a conversation before it becomes too "intense."
The desire to stay away from heated discussion stems in part from Dartmouth's tendency toward anti-intellectualism. Of course, there is an intellectual side to Dartmouth -- to argue otherwise would be to ignore the intelligence of the student body. In general though, we veer away from conflicting debate when possible. Ideas are thrown around, and occasionally disputes arise, but you're more likely to find people talking about Saturday night than about Nixon's Saturday Night Massacre.
There are a host of reasons for avoiding "intense" conversation. At a school with high expectations from professors and taxing academic work, we may just want to relax among friends when we're not in class. After listening to a lecture or finishing a lab, it's understandable that people would rather talk about weekend plans than about academics.
Political correctness, too, plays a role in making us uneasy with heated debate. We're all so afraid of offending someone that we don't say what's on our mind. In many cases, cautious behavior is for the best; being conscious of others' sensitivities is a step toward greater tolerance. But when political correctness stifles discussion to the point where no one feels comfortable saying anything controversial, things have gone too far.
The Duck Syndrome (first used to describe Stanford students) also helps to explain our tendency to pass up debate -- we are a student body calm on the surface, but swimming madly below to stay afloat. We want to appear calm, despite hectic lives, and achieving this goal requires a certain nonchalance that doesn't mesh well with intellectual zeal. The desire to appear calm is present in almost all we do at Dartmouth. Passion isn't cool anymore; its time has long passed. Being "chill" is now fashionable, and going beyond the boundaries of relaxed conversation is not "chill," so these boundaries are often not crossed.
Dartmouth, despite its anti-intellectual current, is still filled with brilliant studentswho often do engage in discussion that is meaningful and intellectual. Whether it's two students at Home Plate arguing about the solution to political woes in Zimbabwe, or a First-Year Forum debate over abortion, many students brave the tides and bring academics outside the classroom.
Allowing discussions to reach a point of tension, and to dig below the surface, is what separates the interesting conversations from the truly memorable ones. Everyone at Dartmouth has strong opinions, and these opinions have been influenced by a wealth of different backgrounds. Exploring our intellectual differences with vigor, even in ways that might be deemed confrontational, would revitalize our campus -- just in time for spring.
