Even though private universities, as their gorgeous ads tend to suggest, are doing their business pretty well, the Delhi University–a leading public institution–is not yet dead. Even though in the age of massive commodification of education, liberal arts and humanities are often devalued and considered to be ‘irrelevant’, it is great to see the enthusiasm of the youngsters (supposedly ‘good’ students if the high ‘cut-off’ is an indication) to opt for the courses like sociology, literature, history and political science in the leading colleges of the Delhi University.
As a teacher, I see this phenomenon with great interest. At one level, it makes me feel good that people have not yet lost hope in good public universities, even though, as the JNU controversy indicates, an organized attempt has been made to stigmatize and condemn these universities as ‘politically disturbed/violent/anti-national’ sites. I also feel good because the undergraduate colleges of the Delhi University have been able to retain the tradition of good academic culture, particularly in liberal arts and humanities. However, I cannot escape from asking myself a critical question: For these young minds, what is the meaning of pursuing these courses? Is it for just getting a degree from a ‘branded’ college like LSR/Hindu/Miranda House? Is it merely a preparation for writing the UPSC exam, or going abroad? Or, is there some higher purpose beneath their choices? I know that it is really difficult to find a definite answer to these questions.
However, as a teacher, I would appeal to these youngsters to celebrate their journey to humanities and social sciences, and redefine themselves as spiritually vibrant subjects with deep politico-ethical sensibilities.
In Quest of Sanity in a Violent World
To begin with, I want them to reflect on the times they are living in. An understanding of the social context is important to make sense of the books they would read, or the theories and commentaries they would decipher. I would reflect on the three characteristics of the prevalent social reality.
First, a mix of militaristic nationalism, neoliberal economic utilitarianism and assertive majoritarianism has accelerated or intensified the psychology of violence. The qualities like compassion and sharing, love and altruism, dialogue and understanding are seen as ‘weak’. The noise of the hyper-masculine aggression is heard everywhere.
Second, the all-pervading technocratic rationality is continually denaturalizing our existence. The skyscrapers seek to hide the moon; the expressways and flyovers see trees as obstacles; and the neurotic obsession with the gadgets makes it difficult for us to see the sunset, the birds flying and the rivers flowing. It damages the nature outside; and it damages the eco system of the mental landscape. And third, the over-arching presence of the mass media, the 24*7 television channels, the never ending dissemination of ‘viral’ information through all sorts of social media–yes, it is not the right time for silence and meditativeness, creative thinking and reflexivity, and critical consciousness and engaged social practice.
What does it mean to study sociology, literature and political science under these circumstances? Let me begin with literature. If you pursue English literature, is it for enhancing your ‘cultural capital’–a way of ‘distinguishing’ yourself from those who speak Bhojpuri and Maithili, or Odiya and Telegu? I know that the legacy of colonialism has not yet disappeared; and English as a language continues to divide and separate. However, it is possible and desirable to get enchanted by literature, and evolve as sensitive human beings.
Don’t reduce William Bake and Whitman, Tagore or Wordsworth as just ‘romantic dreamers’. Instead, walk with them, and feel the intensity of the engagement with the soul of nature and its living spirit. This possibly makes you feel the pain of living in a ‘disenchanted’ world–a world devoid of mystery, wonder and meaning. Possibly, this poetry makes you political; you begin to evolve a sharp critique of the technocratic rationality that has killed to soul of nature, and generated a ‘risk society’ characterized by war, pollution and natural disaster. Likewise, an involved engagement with Premchand and Dostoyevsky, or Kafka and U.R Ananthamurthy sharpens the faculty of empathy; your eyes begin to see; your ears receive the voices of love and longing, pain and trauma; and your heart aches. You become dialogic–not hyper-masculine, militant, technocratic. Not solely that. You recover the language–the language that has been destroyed by the ‘culture industry’, the toxic social media, and the political class. Recovering the language is like redefining the world; it is a move towards sanity in an insane world.
What about sociology, history and political science? Don’t utter the names of Marx and Weber, Plato and Aristotle, Romila Thapar and Irfan Habib like a parrot; don’t reduce them into ‘exam notes’; and don’t get carried away by the burden of a fancy reading list and the aura of complex/mystified vocabulary derived from post-structuralism and post-colonialism . Instead, as I would appeal to you, try to understand and feel the way they argue, see the world, and take you beyond the dominant commonsense. And then, you acquire the sensitivity to relate your biography to history; you sharpen the critical consciousness to see the discontents of say religious nationalism, militarism, consumerism and technocracy; and you cherish reflexivity, and begin to understand Gandhi’s ‘experiments’, or Marcuse’s penetrating critique of the ‘one-dimensional’ man. In other words, as you converse with great social scientists, you learn to ask the questions that the ‘system’ seeks to repress; you acquire the creative spirit to attach a new meaning to the world–say, the way Weber was ‘disenchanted’ with modernity, Ivan Illich saw the ‘limits to medicine’, and Ashis Nandy gave us a new insight to look at the psychology of colonialism. This critical insight would be your strength. This is not something that management gurus can quantify and measure in terms of ‘productivity’ and ‘outcome’. This is a life-transformative experience.
As I urge you to celebrate your college days with politico-ethical and moral churning, I know that as teachers we too have to redefine ourselves. We have to bring joy, creativity and dialogue in the classroom; we have to make our students free from the fear of books; we have to trust them, and encourage them to unite theory and experience, philosophy and the everydayness of the world, and subjectivity and objectivity. We have to transform ourselves–from mere ‘experts’ to co-travellers. In other words, we have to restore the spirit of teaching as an art.
In the age of utility, placement and package, we have begun to laugh at all pedagogic ideals. But then, should we give up so quickly?
Avijit Pathak is Professor of Sociology at JNU.