Snyder emphasized local activism
College's response is lucid and obstinate
I'm writing in response to first-year student Erika Hansen's fervent diatribe against Gary Snyder's "fantasy world" presented in his convocation speech (Review, Sept. 12). Though I was not able to attend the convocation, Mr. Snyder provided me with a transcript of his talk.
Ms. Hansen took grave offense at the fact that Gary Snyder lives in rural California, oddly equating this 67-year old poet with self-absorbed baby-boomers who move to the country. While Ms. Hansen is certainly correct that there is not enough space for each baby-boomer to claim a 25-acre plot in the woods, Mr. Snyder did not advocate this. In fact, he said quite the opposite. Mr. Snyder argued for deeply getting to know a specific place-whether that place is urban, suburban, or rural. This involves working with neighbors, getting to know the ecology, being politically involved.
Two related points emerge from this: individuals and institutions are less likely to wantonly abuse the land or its inhabitants if they are firmly invested and committed to the health of a specific locale. Secondly, careful attention given to one's home region, wherever it is, Mr. Snyder suggested, can engender a richness within one's life and elicit a sense of wonder and gratitude.
Representing the puritanical wing of the American left, Ms. Hansen dismissed the need for such psychological responses as a luxury that "doesn't do most of the people on this planet a damn bit of good." In this form of politico-asceticism, any effort to improve the quality of one's life is branded as "reactionary" and irrelevant.
Repeatedly, Mr. Snyder emphasized the importance of localized activism: "The Wilderness Society is not going to come and save your local duck marsh from a supermarket parking lot. You've got to do it with local energy or it won't happen," he noted. Yet this was somehow distorted in Ms. Hansen's letter into a "sit on your ass... do nothing about it attitude." The fact is that Mr. Snyder has been actively involved in political issues for decades, speaking out for both social and environmental causes. Yet with a cavalier self-righteousness, Ms. Hansen condemned Gary Snyder as indifferent.
I'm all for debate and disagreement over ecological ideas, or any other type of ideas, but I'm baffled by some Oberlin students who, while on the lookout for ideological villains, aggressively denounce individuals, even if they happen to be potential allies. I was surprised to see a first-year student, not even a week into her college career, already having picked up this blood sport.
Hello Oberlin bureaucrat and thank you for allowing me this time to get something off my chest. It is my opinion that there are two necessities in life; food and water. For Oberlin to extend its fierce grip over something so consequential, so essential to my being is criminal if not torture. At the ripe age of 21 do I not hold the right to vote, drink, be a soldier, drive a car? Do I not also hold the right to a quality repast? Am I not old enough to decide whether or not Campus Dining Services is appropriate for me?
The institution's response is lucid and obstinate. "No Glenn you do not hold the right to decide what you eat and how often you choose to do so. You will pay the exorbitantly high prices we charge for 21 meals a week or you will be withdrawn from the institution. Now go sit down, shut up, and eat your crispy patty. It matters not to us whether you relish CDS. It matters not whether you live off campus and is inconvenient and expensive for you. You are student. I am institution. You hold no power, especially over that which you imbibe. You are nothing. I am everything. CDS is run for our convenience. If you don't eat we suffer a financial windfall. This issue is more complex than you can possibly comprehend." (All this coming from an employee with a belly full of remarkable morsels obtained off-board.).
Glenn calmly yet bitterly replies, "My, my that was quite a diatribe Mr. institution. However I beg to disagree. This issue is not as complex as you make it out to be. I don't want your food, I won't eat your food, and in conclusion I certainly will not pay for your food. Every college in the United States ( well over 500 in case you were counting) offers a meal option. I have friends with legitimate economic, psychological and physical aversions to CDS. These young men and women, guilty of wanting to eat well, are subjected to the institutions doctors and psychologists. They are forced to procure a psychological test, go through every inch of red tape, visit every channel only to suffer the sadistic reasoning that the institution will undergo immense harm if they don't drink the watered down OJ. Do not the students comprise the institution? Don't the students support the college like a helpless child? My answer is a simple as yours: yes. By disallowing off-board status to students who want it you, the institution, are essentially stating that we are neither capable nor responsible for our actions. Now here is my challenge to you, institution leader. It is my suggestion that you eat 21 meals a week at CDS (preferably Stevenson) for 31 days a month, nine months a year for four years at a cost of roughly $12,000 (That's accurate, folks). As you are doing this we will lyingly tell you that a meal plan will come to release you from your chains sometime before the 21st century. What's that? You say you don't like that idea. Sit down, shut up, and eat your crispy patty. (Sorry if this is a bit incoherent or if my tone is offensive. It's just that my body is aching with the quality grade D beef-suitable for prisons- that is churning in my tummy. And one more thing - what the hell do you guys put in that pasta sauce?)
Copyright © 1997, The Oberlin Review.
Volume 126, Number 4, September 26, 1997
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