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CHAPTER 9: TOUCHING COMMON GROUND

Paul Goldberger, architecture critic for the New York Times,

observed that while city life has always been characterized by

struggle between the private and public sectors, there was,

historically, general respect for buildings and spaces "of the

public realm." In New York City, for example, this meant Central

Park, Grand Central Terminal, the New York Public Library, the

road, park, and tunnel systems.

In recent years, commitment to the public realm of human

life or, as Goldberger put it, "to the idea that the city is a

collective, shared place; in the most literal sense, common

ground." As the idea of shared spaces lost appeal, with people

retreating into their own private spaces, many seemed to feel

that the public domain in cities could not be reclaimed. Still,

a city simply cannot function physically without an

infrastructure—roadways, pipes and tunnels for water and waste,

basic public services—nor can it survive spiritually without the

spaces and places that sustain its intellectual, social, and

artistic life.

So it is with higher education. Colleges and universities

serve scholars, faculty, and students. Students come to college

to pursue their own goals, follow their own aptitudes, to become

productive, self-reliant human beings and, with new knowledge, to

continue learning after college days are over and, surely,

serving individual interests must remain, a top priority in

higher education.

Many of today's students have ambiguous feelings about their

role in the world and they are struggling to find a balance

between individual interests and community concerns. Again, not

only has cultural coherence faded, but the very notion of

commonalities seems strikingly inapplicable to the vigorous

diversity of contemporary life. Within the academy itself, the

fragmentation of knowledge, narrow departmentalism, and an

intense vocationalism are, as we have acknowledged, the strongest

characteristics of collegiate education. But they, too, need

spaces in the public realm.

In recent years, however, separations and divisions, not

unity, have characterized the campus. Narrow departmentalization

divides the academy and so distinctive are the different

disciplines in method and content, the argument goes, there is no

way to connect them in the minds of students. Knowledge is so

vast and specialization so persistent that shared goals are

blurred and today's student body is so diverse that separations

are the norm. Is it possible for the modern college and

university, with all the fragmentation, to find common ground?

While individual effort is important, it is not sufficient.

There is a deep running feeling that in today's world, students—and

everyone else working on our campuses—must connect with the

institution as a whole.

What we need today are groups of well-informed, caring

individuals who band together in the spirit of community to learn

form one another, to participate, as citizens, in the democratic

process.

Obviously, no one institution in society can single-handedly

provide the leadership we require. But we are convinced that

higher education, perhaps more than any other institution is

obliged to provide the enlightened leadership our nation—and the

world—urgently requires.

What the modern college confronts is the need to make

choices, to decide not only what each of its departments stands

for but what it stands for as an institution. The spirit we seek

relates to the way students and faculty feel about an institution

and we are confident that a greater sense of belonging can be

established at colleges and universities both large and small.

Community can be experienced by students both young and old, both

the commuter and residential, and a larger balance can be reached

between individual interests and community concerns.

But here we reintroduce an important word of caution. To

draw the line too sharply between the two traditions of

individuality and community may, in fact, mask a more fundamental

truth: To serve private priorities while neglecting social

obligations is, ultimately, to undermine self-interest. And it

is more than mere sentiment to suggest that social connections

and caring richly benefit the self as well.

We believe that the college or university, at its best, can

bring together the separate parts and offer the prospect that the

channels of our common life will be deepened and renewed. We

proceed, then, with the conviction that if a balance can be

struck between individual interests and shared concerns, a strong

learning community will result.

What we urge is a campus in which students and faculty come

together as scholars-citizens, creating an organic, living

community where members are not only intellectually engaged, but

also committed to the advancement of civility on campus and to

the advancement of the common good in the neighborhood, the

nation, and the world.

In the end, the challenge of building community confronts

not just higher learning but society at large. As we move toward

a new millennium there is a growing sense that in our hard-edged

competitive world more humane purposes must be defined. And

perhaps it is not too much to hope that the college, as a vital

community of learning, can be a model for society at large—a

society where private and public purposes also must be joined.