As a newcomer to Oberlin — I joined the faculty of the Politics department this year — last week’s day of action in solidarity against hate on campus provided an inspiring introduction to our vibrant community. On that day we affirmed our shared social and political values in a powerful, moving way. And yet as I observed and participated in the day’s events I couldn’t help thinking that we were failing to affirm an equally important dimension of Oberlin’s legacy as an intellectually vibrant community. Effective action must take place alongside patient reflection, and I fear that this was lost — or, in the moment, could not be found. In 1958, after the murderous chaos of war and genocide and the face of Cold War uncertainty, the political theorist Hannah Arendt asked us to “think what we are doing.” For Oberlin, this uncertain and chaotic moment in our history demands it.

I felt the absence of such reflection most keenly at the convocation — perhaps unsurprisingly, since mass gatherings do not lend themselves to that sort of thing. We reaffirmed our values — justice, equality, diversity — but what do we mean by them? We cried “Our patience is spent!” Our patience for what? And how might we reclaim it? “We are fucking angry!” At whom, exactly? For what, exactly? And who, precisely, is the “we” that we mean? The campus community? But it is the very boundaries of that community that are in question today. Do “we” who were not explicit targets of hate speech experience those incidents in the same as “we” who were not? What are “we” talking about when “we” talk about community? “No Justice, No Peace!” What counts as justice in this context, and in what sense precisely is hate speech not only harmful — and how is it harmful? — but unjust? From whom do we seek justice? What does peace look like? And how far are “we” willing to go to get “it?” The only moment at which “we” addressed such a question was when one brave student dared to ask the most obvious question on a day of solidarity. What does “solidarity” mean? To this vital question, sadly, he received no meaningful answer.

I do not mean to diminish the significance of the convocation or the events that preceded it. They were vital, as moments of protest, criticism, education and catharsis. But they will have been for naught if they do not help “us” clarify who “we” are today, what “we” stand for and what sort of “community” “we” want to be.

–Jacob Schiff
Professor of Politics