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Salient. Victoria University of Wellington Students' Newspaper. Volume 31, Number 18. July 30, 1968

Extra-Curricular Activities

page 4

Extra-Curricular Activities

In speaking about university student organisations and their role in non-academic affairs I first remind myself that I am addressing a gathering of successful politicians. Presumably you believe that some students, at least, should have a wider horizon than is provided by the classroom and the playing field, should look out to the world, and should perhaps want to change it now.

Do you think that everyone should interest himself in political issues and be politically active? Would it be wrong to be completely wrapped up in scientific research, let us say, or musical composition? Some years ago there was a student who became fascinated with genes (not the sort you wear) and spent all his time trying to unravel their molecular structure. He was later awarded the Nobel prize for his part in revealing the double helix of DNA. If he had taken no interest in the rest of the world's problems during this time would you say that he had failed in his duty to his fellows?

Consciously or otherwise, each of us is compelled to make a decision, to elect between withdrawal and involvement. Some of the world's great religions are based on a philosophy of withdrawal. Existentialism, on the other hand, goes even more emphatically in the opposite direction. The western world, especially since the scourge of fascism, has veered strongly in favour of participation and involvement, not only for the practical benefits that this may bring to society but also for the fuller, more satisfying life that it is thought to mean for the individual.

Erasmus of Rotterdam, the great 16th century scholar, is perhaps the outstanding example of a man of learning who tried to live above the battle, to avoid commitment.* He loved many things that we ourselves are fond of: he loved poetry and philosophy, books and works of art, languages and peoples; he loved the whole of mankind without distinction of race or colour. One thing alone he whole-heartedly detested, and that was fanaticism, which he looked upon as contrary to reason. Every form of intellectual intolerance was irksome to him and led him to consider it the greatest evil encumbering mankind. He detested bigotry in all its manifestations, and bias whether in a priest or a professor. He hated the zealots of every class who demanded immediate acquiescence in their own opinions. He took it as a matter of course that a man had a right to his own opinions; absolute independence of mind was essential. Every clamorous wrangle was an affront to his sense of clarity and reasonableness and his conciliatory disposition. Settled in no country but at home in all, he was the first conscious European and cosmopolitan, seeking to unite men of good will in every land, from every race and class, in one great league of the enlightened.

But where the barbarism of the world was concerned he resolutely turned a blind eye. When in the great upheavals of his lime his active help was sought he crept away into corners, contrived ingenious non-committal responses to all pleas, bent to right and to left like a reed in a storm. When he was at the zenith of his fame no man in Europe had had such reputation and influence for a hundred years or more. But persisting in his policy of non-alignment he forfeited his lofty station, signally failed to affect the course of events, watched impotently as fanaticism ran rampant over Europe, and left the hopes of many early humanists to wither and die.

John Donne's "For Whom the Bell Tolls" brilliantly states the moral that has been drawn from this and many similar stories: that isolation is impossible, withdrawal impracticable, and involvement the course that wisdom and conscience alike dictate.

If this is one's course, what should be the scope of one's involvement, and with what aims? The first thing to be noticed is that the problems are not scientific or technical. They are essentially moral. Of course the world is beset with practical and grave problems of food supply, health and hygiene, transport and so on. Broadly speaking these are not problems for the ordinary citizen but for technical experts. The citizen's involvement is primarily with moral issues. Ethical problems confront us all, and if we reject a policy of withdrawal we are driven to struggle actively to promote the moral choices we think right and to resist those we think wrong. And this in turn involves still further moral decisions, on the legitimate means to be used in the struggle.

Student action to affect university policy on internal issues may be taken for granted. Student action to affect the policy of some foreign government or employer is another matter. There are signs that the range of issues on which students may align themselves for political action is widening phenomenally in our time, and that the measures deemed legitimate for this purpose are increasingly drastic. At Berkeley, L.S.E., and several British universities recent struggles have related to familiar problems of internal policy, but the techniques have been comparatively new. Student rioting in Japanese ports, in Grosvenor Square, and at Columbia University has grown out of protests against war, racial discrimination, invasions of human rights. In Indonesia and France we have seen unprecedented action by students at the spearhead of mass movements attempting to topple a government.

Is there any convincing reason why student political action should be more circumscribed? I can find none. No doubt there may be reasons of prudence that may make it expedient to keep well out of many a squabble, particularly those where the facts of the situation are hard to come by; and if the machinery for political change is in good order there may be little case for student intervention. But I suggest that there is no type of political or public issue which, from its nature, is in principle beyond the reach of legitimate student discussion, protest, and action.

By what methods, then, may students and their organisations properly seek to achieve their ends in regard to these non-academic political issues? The idealist humanism of Erasmus would have us pin our faith on discussion and reason. Gandhi, disillusioned with humble petitioning, devised civil disobedience campaigns, a form of non-violent coercion. Lenin, seeing no prospect of success with such methods, championed coercion by force—the armed proletarian revolution.

If one is a Christian pacifist or a Marxist, the appropriate methods are determined largely by one's general philosophy; but in the absence of those or similar views one may still find criteria by which to judge the fitness of various possible courses of action. There is no simple calculus by which the choice of weapon can be justified, but there are undoubtedly considerations, both ethical and pragmatic, that must influence a decision. "Which course is most likely to make our view prevail?" is Not the only question.

I remind you at the outset of the tremendous range, from simple request by letter or deputation, through satire and ridicule, reprisals in the form of non-cooperation, use of the press and other public media, the positive form of protest (through V.S.A. and like organisations), the boycott (of lectures or lecturers, of Rhodesia, of the Springboks, or whatever it may be), the various forms of trespass (sit-in and so forth), to the culmination of violence in revolutionary action. If a student's conscience impels him to take a stand on a public question involving a moral issue his conscience should also impel him to give thought to the means he uses.

• If "quiet" methods will suffice, they should be used. Reason demands that one should minimise effort, cost, disturbance.

• There should be no resort to illegal methods if legal methods will serve.

• The total cost (including every element of harm likely to result) must be considered in relation to the gravity of what is at stake.

• "Irrelevant" harm must be minimised. I refer to harm that is incidental and in no way contributes to achieving the desired end.

• Action should not be directed against innocent targets and chance victims.

• Generally speaking, you cannot justify the use of methods which you consider indefensible in the hands of your opponents.

May I give you some examples of what I mean.

After the great rally in Trafalgar Square protesting mainly against American policy in Vietnam there was a peaceful procession to the American Embassy in Grosvenor Square. The views of the gathering had already been loudly and forcefully expressed, and were perfectly well known to the American government. But it seems that the protesters resorted to extreme violence when blocked from getting into the Embassy. Since all that remained for them to do−handing in a written version of their protest—was the merest formality, I can think of no conceivable justification for the riot that ensued.

In New Zealand, where it is sheer nonsense to suggest that you cannot get a hearing from the university or the public or the government, there is not the remotest justification for the militancy that threshes on no matter who gets hurt.

However much you detest American policy regarding Vietnam or any other question it is completely indefensible to express your distaste by personal attacks on Americans in this country, be they Embassy staff, military men, or any one else. The disgrace of our attitude toward Professor von Zedlitz in the first World War should never be repeated.

No doubt there arc occasions when something more than polite words are called for; but students have gained little from being in a university if they do not appreciate the immense power of words. While accepting the limitations of the liberal humanism of Erasmus we should still salvage from it the conciliatory approach and the stress on reason. And we should exercise the restraint that comes from awareness of our own fallibility—though that awareness is often grievously underdeveloped in the young.

So far I have been discussing attitudes that might be adopted by a student as an individual. Let me now turn to the role of organisations. In a voluntary association such as a student club no special problems seem to me to arise. A member who disagrees with its policy and is unable to get it changed can always withdraw. But where membership of students' associations is compulsory and resignation is not possible, there is, it seems to me, a special problem in regard to a dissenting minority. There is even the initial problem of finding the majority view. If most of the members are either apathetic or so engaged in other matters that they do not interest themselves in political issues, is it legitimate to treat them as supporting the decisions reached by those who do? Those who want action, e.g. to arouse public opinion about conditions in our mental hospitals, are perfectly free to do so through existing voluntary societies or ad hoc groups. What right have they to use the Students* Association and claim to speak for many whose support they do not in fact have?

The sort of answer commonly given—that if they disagree strongly enough they can get the Executive thrown out—seems to me doctrinaire and unconvincing. And when those who actively dissent are in fact a small minority who cannot gain control, but at the same time cannot quit the organisation, then the right of the majority to take political action in the name of the association is questionable indeed.

Nevertheless a Students' Association must inevitably be regarded by most people as the students' voice, being the body that includes all shades of opinion among students and has its own internal processes for defining student policy. If the Association makes representations to the University administration these must surely be taken to express the student view—for the moment, at least. A protesting minority may find ways to make their dissent known. Apart from that, the Association would seem to be under no obligation except that it must not assert, when it is contrary to the fact, that the views it expresses are held by all students. Anyone who is cognisant with student affairs will know that organised action of any kind, by a Students' Association or by a state, will normally be vehemently opposed by a minority, and that universal endorsement of any major policy is rare indeed.

The scope of the activities of an incorporated body is defined in the first place in its constitution. When a proposed course of action is challenged a lawyer would first see whether it was within the scope of the "objects" clause or was ultra vires. And this is more than a purely legal point. A member has a complaint of real substance if those in control purport to use the organisation for purposes going beyond those agreed on. If the activity is intra vires, then it is immaterial that the proposal falls in the non-academic field; but there is presumably a very low priority for propositions that do not relate to student life or involve an important moral issue.

It is characteristic of student bodies that their membership, and the membership of their governing bodies, is more transient than usual; but I think this can have little bearing on the decisions made from time to time. Those who arc here now must decide as best they can. whether or not they will be here tomorrow.

The effect of student decisions and actions on the "university image" is much discussed. That the effect may be grave and far-reaching cannot be doubted. But in my view the fact that this is so cannot be an effective determinant of student policy. What "image" should students wish to create? If they favour extensive involvement in broad issues they will surely want the public to think of the university as a place where, amongst other things, students take a lively interest and an active one in public affairs. If they feel that students should stick to their studies, presumably they want the public to have a concept of the univers.ty as a place where there is such a conceitration on study. In either case, doing what they think right tends to produce the "image" that is appropriate.

There is anothcr aspect to this, of course. If there is strong public disapproval of student political activity, especially on the part of those who control the supply of funds, such activity may have a highly detrimental effect on the univers.ty s resources and even on its freedom, with repercussions on student bursaries, employment prospects, halls of residence, and other amenities. Consequently self-interest may operate strongly to inhibit student action. There is no sense in being blind to such possibilities. But usually such considerations are an ugly intrusion in the debate. The issues on which students feel most profoundly moved involve matters of deep moral conviction. They bring to them an idealism in which there is an ample measure of willingness to accept sacrifice. And the argument that the proposed action may prove damaging to them personally may be received with well-deserved ignominy and derision.

The youthfulness and inexperience of students must be recognised as a simple fact of the situation. By some it is considered sufficient reason for dismissing most student protest as not worthy of serious attention. A French philosopher once wrote: "Si jeunesse savait . . . Si vieillesse pouvait . . ." Those with youth and vigour lack wisdom and experience. Those with wisdom and experience lack strength and vigour. And so there is little hope for mankind.

I would suggest that there would he more truth in the aphorism "Si jeunesse pouvait . . . Si vieillesse savait . . ." But students do not need to be exhorted to disregard these laments of their elders. To postpone judgment till all the facts are in usually means to postpone judgment till you are dead. Youth may be too impetuous, hut better that than intellectually paralysed by the possibility of error.

The role of students, and of their organisations, must undoubtedly vary with time and place. What I have put before you is coloured by own own assessment of the present situation in our universities, in New Zealand, and beyond. I have advocated involvement over a wide range, but with great restraint in method. I hope that what I have said may prove helpful to you in your discussion of this important question concerning the student and his position in society.

* * The passages which follow arc taken from Stefan Zweig's essay on Erasmus.