Part of the reason I'm lukewarm to Boston University is because my heart has already been given to another university. Going to UC Berkeley [Cal] was the best decision I've ever made. It's a decision that has paid dividends over the years in so many ways, and with no signs of stopping. As my undergraduate years fade further into the past I'm becoming increasingly cognizant of the value I got in my education. Cal is often criticized as being large and faceless, with large impersonal lecture classes. There were large lecture classes, that part is true, but impersonal they were not. Each large class also had smaller sections led by capable teaching assistants. And the professors who taught the lectures were by no means aloof or unapproachable.
Last week I got an alumni mailing referring to a lecture series at Harvard. I recognized the name of the speaker, Leon Litwack, as my former professor from freshman year. He taught History 7B, an American history survey course. It was popular because it satisfied several prerequisites, so it was taught in the 800-seat Wheeler Auditorium.
In a sense it's a shame. I've often noted that my education was unconducive to my education. The undergraduate experience can be stressful and daunting, and sometimes it can be hard to appreciate the quality of one's education while caught in the throes of it. Consequently I don't remember the course perfectly, but I do remember certain things about it. We had to write a major research paper. Unlike high school papers where it was acceptable to read a bunch of materials that discussed a topic and then write a synthesis of what we learned, in this class we were required to access primary sources as much as possible. I wrote a paper on the support structure for Jewish immigrants on the Lower East Side and in the process got an appointment to do research in the archives of Ellis Island. I was allowed to drive over the temporary bridge from New Jersey where I was met by a park ranger who gave me a tour of the island, including areas that had not been renovated and opened to the public. As I walked through the hallways that I'm sure my relatives must have walked through decades earlier it was a near spiritual experience getting so closely in touch with history so personal to me.
Though as an undergraduate courses were seen as something to simply get through, these glimpses of relevance were inspiring. Similarly, a few semesters after the class, I was reading a magazine in the newspaper when I saw an article referencing Professor Litwack. Again I was struck by the lightning bolt of significance as I exclaimed, "I know that guy!" As others deemed his contributions important I came to appreciate how lucky I was that I'd been taught by him.
So when I saw the mailing mentioning his speech I decided I needed to go. I was only able to arrange attending the first installment, but I'm glad I did. Professor Litwack has done extensive work on Black History in America, which was the topic of his talk. He mostly spoke of the atrocities towards blacks in the South during the late 19th- early 20th centuries. "Race riots were what journalists called them," he said. "They were really massacres." Again, the primary sources are crucial to his scholarship. Rather than expound on his own analysis, although he did provide some of that too, he let the primary sources speak through him, as he quoted many of the people who lived through the period.
In my Constitutional Law class we had recently discussed affirmative action and how race-based laws were treated under constitutional analysis. "Is the Constitution a colorblind document?" my professor asked. The question reverberated in my head during the talk. I was left with the sense that the Constitution was not so much colorblind as just blind. If it's true to say it articulates acceptable bounds of civic behavior, it certainly in no way compels it. Defective behaviors, spawned independently in the hearts of its citizens and agents, who were obviously not colorblind themselves, acted unchecked by any heroic intervention of our founding document. That years later the hearts and minds of its citizens and agents might choose to undo the damage inflicted (e.g., through policies of affirmative action or other race-based preferences) should be able to withstand some sort of Constitutional scrutiny. If the Constitution could not step in to stop the damage how can it be constitutional to step in to stop the repair?
During the lecture Professor Litwack commented that this is not an easy history to assimilate, so Americans use selective amnesia on what they choose to remember. During our class discussions that amnesia was evidenced, as the merits of race-based policies were discussed in a vacuum as if there was no reason for them in the first place. Even court decisions read with the same naivety. A truly colorblind society is a fine goal to aim for but it's not achievable without reconciling society's past utter failures which we all need. The horrific chapter in American history of treatment towards its black citizens did not just happen to those people, it is a history personal to all of us.
This was really posted on 3/9, but I've got a backlog of ideas so I decided to backdate it to keep the posts spread out. Most of it was at least mentally composed a week or so before it was actually posted anyway.