Apologia for elitism

Two weeks ago, the Black Students Organization invited me to a discussion of Eduardo Bonilla-Silva’s book, “Racism Without Racists.” The invitation arose after some BSO members rightly took issue with my depictions of diversity at Columbia in my column “Anyone is everyone”. The specifics of the conversation aside, one of the most interesting opinions offered was the idea that the fundamental purpose of our education is “disruption.” In this view, many of us come to Columbia to learn about how the current political and economic systems are failing and how we might rectify various abuses of power and privilege. We learn so that we might improve society—but disruption is the zeitgeist. Three weeks ago, one only had to mosey on down to Zuccotti Park to see disruption in action. For Occupy Wall Street, occupation is a disruptive, discursive act. The motivations behind disruption are almost always valid. It isn’t hard to look at society and see its ills, myriad and malignant as they are. But OWS exemplifies the hollow nature of disruption, as evidenced by those moments when the protesters meet the police.

There has been much outcry over police brutality, and rightly so. Scenes from the Occupy Oakland, Occupy Cal, and the recent OWS rally in New York all chronicle severe abuses of police power, including the excessive use of force and the gratuitous use of pepper spray at point-blank range. What is problematic is that police brutality is desirable for OWS protesters, insofar as it serves to charge activism with a more dramatic element. OWS seems to be tracking its success as a movement by the number of “dramatic” and “iconic” scenes it has produced. The movement bandies instances of police brutality and asks, “Can anyone justify this?” which is perhaps the most useless question, if only because no one is trying to justify brutality. So while OWS approaches an elaborate melodrama, we are left to wonder if the disruption that is occurring is at all productive.

Consider a powerful poster designed in support of OWS. It shows a graphic representation of the Wall Street bull ensnarled in red ropes and a simple caption that ominously reads, “The Beginning is Near.” What is troubling about imagery like this—imagery that is intended to reinforce a wider narrative of upheaval—is that it advocates a disruption that isn’t about structural reform, or about evolution, but about destructive revolution. The bull depicted in that poster does not represent merely Wall Street greed, but rather the American approach to the whole project of economic development. Taking down the bull gets rid of special interests and bonuses for senior executives, but it does so at the expense of the very mechanisms which have enabled the United States to provide such a high standard of living in such a racially and culturally diverse populace.

There is a sobering example of this myopia that is often overlooked. OWS claims fraternal links to the revolutions of the Arab Spring. Certainly, American awareness of the Arab Spring is wonderful. But the appropriation by OWS of a movement where the masses rose against dictatorships, contended with live rounds, and in the case of Libya, waged a protracted civil war, is baffling. To explain why, it might be helpful to think of disruption in terms of predominance. In the Arab Spring uprisings, the mass protests and acts of civil disobedience disrupted the operation of government agencies, military cadres, and other groups that were predominately composed of actors working against the public welfare, perpetuating systemic injustice of a very tangible sort. Contrarily, OWS predominately disrupts ordinary people from commuting and students from attending their classes. It polarizes political discourse with its ambiguous aims.

We now risk succumbing to our fascination with the specter of revolution and undermining the very integrity of the American system, which is unequivocally the best available system of governance. So what is our role as students at Columbia? Disruption in education is valuable insofar as it requires that we challenge the prevailing order and envision a better state of affairs. But in the context of a university, this disruption ought to be limited to an intellectual exercise, marked by academic discourse. When we graduate, our job will be to take the hypotheticals of disruption and apply them as the pragmatics of constructive reform. I remain more convinced than ever that the purpose of Columbia as an educational institution is to produce a ruling elite (a charged phrase, no doubt). The elite liberal university teaches its students that it is their duty to exercise control, but that they must also exercise stewardship. Specifically, this entails the production of an intellectually-minded class with the acumen to lead in the boardroom, the war room, and the town hall. There will always be a “1 percent.” Should we take up those berths, we must do so with commitment and humility, eager to effect reform in the public interest. To do otherwise would be a betrayal of the American praxis.

Esfandyar Batmanghelidj is a Columbia College sophomore. He is a member of the rugby team. Institution Rules runs alternate Thursdays.