Becoming a Real Person

SEPT. 8, 2014
David Brooks
This summer, The New Republic published the most read article in that
magazine’s history. It was an essay by William Deresiewicz, drawn from his new
book, “Excellent Sheep: The Miseducation of the American Elite and the Way to a
Meaningful Life.”
Deresiewicz offers a vision of what it takes to move from adolescence to
adulthood. Everyone is born with a mind, he writes, but it is only through
introspection, observation, connecting the head and the heart, making meaning of
experience and finding an organizing purpose that you build a unique individual
self.
This process, he argues, often begins in college, the interval of freedom when
a person is away from both family and career. During that interval, the young
person can throw himself with reckless abandon at other people and learn from
them.
Some of these people are authors who have written great books. Some are
professors who can teach intellectual rigor. Some are students who can share work
that is intrinsically rewarding.
Through this process, a student is able, in the words of Mark Lilla, a professor
at Columbia, to discover “just what it is that’s worth wanting.”
Deresiewicz argues that most students do not get to experience this in elite
colleges today. Universities, he says, have been absorbed into the commercial
ethos. Instead of being intervals of freedom, they are breeding grounds for
advancement. Students are too busy jumping through the next hurdle in the
résumé race to figure out what they really want. They are too frantic tasting
everything on the smorgasbord to have life-altering encounters. They have a terror
of closing off options. They have been inculcated with a lust for prestige and a fear
of doing things that may put their status at risk.
The system pressures them to be excellent, but excellent sheep.
Stephen Pinker, the great psychology professor at Harvard, wrote the most
comprehensive response to Deresiewicz. “Perhaps I am emblematic of everything
that is wrong with elite American education, but I have no idea how to get my
students to build a self or become a soul. It isn’t taught in graduate school, and in
the hundreds of faculty appointments and promotions I have participated in, we’ve
never evaluated a candidate on how well he or she could accomplish it.”
Pinker suggests the university’s job is cognitive. Young people should know
how to write clearly and reason statistically. They should acquire specific
knowledge: the history of the planet, how the body works, how cultures differ, etc.
The way to select students into the elite colleges is not through any mysterious
peering into applicants’ souls, Pinker continues. Students should be selected on
the basis of standardized test scores:the S.A.T.’s. If colleges admitted kids with the
highest scores and companies hired applicants with the highest scores, Pinker
writes, “many of the perversities of the current system would vanish overnight.”
What we have before us then, is three distinct purposes for a university: the
commercial purpose (starting a career), Pinker’s cognitive purpose (acquiring
information and learning how to think) and Deresiewicz’s moral purpose (building
an integrated self).
Over a century ago, most university administrators and faculty members
would have said the moral purpose is the most important. As Mary Woolley, the
president of Mount Holyoke, put it, “Character is the main object of education.”
The most prominent Harvard psychology professor then, William James, wrote
essays on the structure of the morally significant life. Such a life, he wrote, is
organized around a self-imposed, heroic ideal and is pursued through endurance,
courage, fidelity and struggle.
Today, people at these elite institutions have the same moral aspirations.
Everybody knows the meritocratic system has lost its mind. Everybody —
administrators, admissions officers, faculty and students — knows that the
pressures of the résumé race are out of control.

But people in authority no longer feel compelled to define how they think
moral, emotional and spiritual growth happens, beyond a few pablum words that
no one could disagree with and a few vague references to community service. The
reason they don’t is simple. They don’t think it’s their place, or, as Pinker put it,
they don’t think they know.
The result is that the elite universities are strong at delivering their
commercial mission. They are pretty strong in developing their cognitive mission.
But when it comes to the sort of growth Deresiewicz is talking about, everyone is
on their own. An admissions officer might bias her criteria slightly away from the
Résumé God and toward the quirky kid. A student may privately wrestle with
taking a summer camp job instead of an emotionally vacuous but résumé-padding
internship. But these struggles are informal, isolated and semi-articulate.
I’d say Deresiewicz significantly overstates the amount of moral decay at elite
universities. But at least he reminds us what a moral education looks like. That is
largely abandoned ground.