The greatest challenge to fruitful dialogue, debate, and activism at Boston College is not a lack of intelligence or ignorance among students, but rather what I have diagnosed as an attitude of “keeping the peace.”
Since Oct. 7, 2023, and the ensuing protests, many concerned parents and students have reconsidered enrolling at Ivy League universities. With this in mind, it may seem strange to advocate for an increase in activism and intellectual fervor among BC’s student body. But I think this passion—something that BC’s student body lacks—is imperative for cultivating a fruitful academic environment.
BC’s student body is seldom openly expressive about philosophical or political beliefs, both inside and outside the classroom. There is little activism of any kind on campus. While the lack of protests results in a noiseless and peaceful academic environment, I fear that many students have embraced this so-called “peace” at the expense of fruitful dialogue and debate inside the classroom as well.
I suspect this is because, generally, people care most about peace of mind and avoiding conflicts within intrapersonal relationships. It is much easier to avoid engaging in jarring or uncomfortable conversations. Our heart rates quicken, our postures stiffen, and our brows furrow whenever someone dares to say, “I think we need to talk” or “Actually, that’s not correct.” We brace ourselves with comebacks before we’ve even listened to or processed what the other person has said. But even if we have counterarguments ready, some of us would rather maintain the “peace” than face this vulnerability. In these circumstances, many people would rather not state, or even form, an opinion.
In seminar-sized classes, a professor or student often presents a strong, debatable opinion. In these instances, students at BC rarely offer responses, and little deliberation occurs. Of course, there is a time and place for students to simply listen to the lecture without challenging other students, but the frequent lack of dialogue creates a dull academic environment. Maintaining “peace” in the classroom halts the learning process, which requires us to question each other.
Christian Smith’s sociological idea of Moralistic Therapeutic Deism (MTD) corroborates the concept of “keeping the peace.” MTD is a set of beliefs that essentially suggests that it is easier to find common ground on religious matters with your neighbors than to take a more confrontational approach, like Walt Kowalski in Gran Torino. This tendency, Smith argues, waters down religious belief and makes it difficult to articulate the core principles of one’s faith.
In academic environments, however, students and professors can and should risk world-shattering conversations. I encourage students to recognize that these conversations can occur fruitfully and peacefully. We should take advantage of the low costs of dialogue and debate within academia. The practical world—the work of the government, the military, our parents, and the staff at BC—supports the academic world. It risks everything so that we can be here and have challenging conversations without the real-world consequences.
Although many members of the BC community are surprised at the lack of student protests here, I want to stress the importance of activism inside the classroom.
A shattered world requires nothing more than acknowledging that you were wrong, that you didn’t have the complete answer. This is intellectual humility. Perhaps you say “Of course!” or “Yes, you’re right!” or maybe you grudgingly admit you were wrong. You might blush, smile, laugh, or even cry.
Without intellectual humility, every discussion feels like a high-cost, high-tension conversation and the only way out of it is simply “keeping the peace.” Accepting the possibility that one might be wrong—and admitting it when one is—is essential for fruitful dialogue. This is not enough, however.
Alongside intellectual humility, I believe we should cultivate a different kind of peace: intellectual fervor, something our classrooms could greatly benefit from.
Intellectual fervor is the drive to complete a process that leads to insight, which in turn brings peace and rest. In an article on the processes of human cognition, Aquinas compares reasoning (ratio) to movement and understanding (intellectus) to rest. Reasoning is a dialectical process, involving the comparison of one idea to another, synthesizing ideas, and sometimes adding or cutting parts of definitions. It is the nitty-gritty work of thinking. Understanding, on the other hand, is the process of grasping and possessing a truth as it presents itself. Intellectual fervor is a desire for the peace of resting in a known truth.
On the other hand, “keeping the peace” avoids engaging in this process altogether. While it allows students in a classroom to “rest,” no work is being done. We must work to truly rest.
Often, what kickstarts the journey toward intellectus is what I call “aha” or Eureka moments. These moments occur when, for example, you’re faced with the frustration of a blank page, and suddenly something clicks. An idea emerges where there was nothing before. What was unclear becomes clear, what was unknown becomes known, and what was shadowed becomes illuminated. Then begins the churning of the mind—you formulate a proposition, then another, and then more than you can even put into words. Your keyboard, once cold from disuse, can barely keep up with the speed of your typing.“I found it,” followed by “aha,” and then the chain continues.
From an initial spark of inspiration, you embark on the gritty journey of formulation. Gaining knowledge requires the motivation to take on this challenge. Inspiration can take the form of an idea you feel compelled to share in class or a question that demands an answer. Both are “aha” moments. If you stay silent or leave your question unasked, though, you stifle that inspiration and sidestep the gritty and, yes, sometimes painful work of explaining your ideas. But it’s this very process that leads to true insight.
As many of my classmates remind me, these virtues and habits must be cultivated in a community of classmates, friends, and professors. Beginning with a moment of inspiration, working out the nitty-gritty details, and arriving at insight is all the more rewarding when done with others. To forgo the pursuit of an “aha” moment is to halt the learning process.
We should not be afraid to attempt to answer or raise questions. We should blurt out a counterargument and refine it with intellectual fervor. We should ask a question and attempt to answer it, always keeping in mind, “I might be wrong.”
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