The question often arises: Why bother? Why bother engaging in any activism at this point in our lives? Why think that we can create any sort of change? Why not keep our collective head down? Sometimes the question comes under the guise of questioning scale: Why are you worried about this tiny, insignificant issue? What is one staff member here or a faculty cut there—there are bigger problems for us to deal with: saving whales, global warming, global poverty and so on and so forth. The list of problems in our world is nearly infinite.
Of course, this wasn’t the mess we made. It has taken centuries of fuck ups for us to arrive at the point where we have this near infinite list. As we see it, each individual is left with only three options: try to clean up the mess we’ve inherited; agree that there are problems and try not to contribute to them while hoping someone else will clean up; or huddle in our slightly-cleaner corner while trying to keep our cuffs clean by throwing our own mess onto the other piles.
Nobody really enjoys cleaning up someone else’s mess, but sometimes you must, or else come to really enjoy filth. But, as we know, the world isn’t as simple as a cluttered room. We often turn to experts so that we can determine what exactly should be done. We have been told all of our lives that the ones with such expertise are those with more education and more experience than ourselves.
Obviously, people with more education and experience have things to teach us. Why else would we be in college? But should we not become worried when we begin to take the word of authority as natural law?
It is very easy for us to do something we may not theoretically, physically or emotionally agree with when there is an authority figure telling us that it is alright. We are reminded of the psychology experiments performed in the middle of the last century when everyone was trying to determine how fascism happened. We can shock another human being, as long as a white lab coat tells us, “It is absolutely essential that you continue.” We hope that it is apparent that we are not speaking of some abstract adolescent rebelliousness. We do not advocate a refusal to listen to our elders for the sake of refusing. What good could come of that? We’re simply proposing an unmasking of experience as Walter Benjamin frames it in his essay, “Experience.” Benjamin says, “The adult has already experienced everything... Often we feel intimidated or embittered. Perhaps he is right. What can our retort be?” Our retort would be, in all of its childishness, a resounding “Why?”
Like children, we aim to be critical of everything. Our world should remain shifting and unstable, forcing us to question everything. And our critical faculties should be tempered by a childish desire to know why. We ask ourselves, “Why must these people be fired?” We follow up with a chain of more questions: “Why isn’t there enough money?” “Why does this person say there isn’t enough money?”
“Why are some people valued less?” Each answer prompts another slew of questions. At the present, we wonder why we frown on asking for explanations. Is it rude to ask an expert why? Is it mature to not rock the boat? Our experts and authorities aren’t gods (and usually aren’t our parents). We should not allow them to answer with, “Because I said so.”
This process of constant questioning has led inevitably to the questioning of our own methods of enacting change. Is it really the case that large numbers are a requirement for effectiveness? Do our actions have to conform to some authority figure’s definition of what is respectful? Do our words have to follow a narrow path of acceptability?
After much consideration, we have discovered that our answer is no. We recognize that the “small problems” facing our college are manifestations of those same “big problems” we are constantly being told to focus on. We refuse to allow the problems closest to us to fall in a blind spot.
—Royce Drake ’10 and Robyn Smigel ’12 have started the blog, “Uppity!” at uppityvassar.blogspot.com.
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