After Bitter Campus Battles, the `Great Books' Rise
Again
By JACQUES STEINBERG
CHICAGO, Jan. 16 -- Prof. Bruce Gans was
wildly pacing the front of classroom A-307, dashing from
Yeats's "Second Coming" to Keats's "Ode to a
Nightingale," with brisk detours through the Bible, T.
S. Eliot, Nietzsche and Arthur Miller.
The setting for this meditation on the great
works of Western civilization was not Oxford or Harvard or
the University of Chicago. It was a night class at Wilbur
Wright College, a community college on this city's North
Side that caters to high school graduates considered not
ready for four-year institutions, as well as to X-ray
technicians, cellular phone sales clerks and bank tellers
looking to better their lot.
That so many of the students were Hispanic
or black was noteworthy, for their backgrounds are barely
reflected in the works that Professor Gans teaches. And yet,
in only the second year since the college started its
"great books program," in which Professor Gans
plays a starring role, 900 students have enrolled in courses
under the curriculum's umbrella.
The program's popularity, mirrored in
similar new efforts at a dozen colleges across the country,
would seem to rebut those critics who have long dismissed
the relevance of courses that celebrate the works of a cadre
of writers who are almost exclusively white, male and dead.
But the classics, it seems, are making a comeback of sorts,
sometimes in unexpected places.
"If I wanted to learn more about black
writers, Hispanic writers, minority writers, I'd take a
course in Aztec culture or Mexican culture," said Oscar
Martinez, a 23-year-old Mexican immigrant who studied
Swift's "Gulliver's Travels" with Professor Gans
last semester. "I'm here to make myself a more
intellectual person, regardless of my race, regardless of my
background."
The new program at Wright, which, like those
at the other colleges, began over the last three years,
allows students to earn a minor or certificate by taking a
concentration of courses on the so-called great books of the
Western canon.
In many instances, the courses themselves
already existed. What is different is that the institutions,
most of them ranked in the middle to lower end of the
academic pack, are taking steps to underline such classes
and to emphasize that they are critical to a liberal arts
education -- in ways that recall the pioneering "great
books programs" at the University of Chicago and
Columbia in the early 20th century.
Deans at a number of institutions involved
say it would have been virtually unthinkable to create these
programs a decade ago when the classics were under heavy
fire.
But they say that the addition, since then,
of minors or certificates in women's studies,
African-American studies and gay and lesbian issues has
opened a window for those who feel the canon should get its
due.
All of the new programs are steeped in
long-dead European or other Western thinkers from Aristotle
to Hemingway, according to the National Association of
Scholars, a conservative organization that encourages and
records the germination of such classes.
And in defining the courses as largely
Western, the colleges -- including Clemson University in
South Carolina and the University of Wisconsin at Milwaukee
-- are perhaps writing the next chapter in the
two-decade-old debate over which works should be considered
great, a fierce cultural discussion that shows no signs of
abating.
"I doubt that this signifies a great
shift in the culture wars back to traditional
learning," said Gerald Graff, the associate dean for
curriculum and pedagogy at the University of Illinois at
Chicago. "What it does signify is the unresolved nature
of the issues in the debate, the fact that 10 to 15 years
after these issues erupted, they are still very much roiling
under the surface."
The classical canon has been battered by
critics who argue that it reflects a Eurocentric and sexist
bias, one that has long xcluded worthy African-American,
Hispanic, African, Asian and female writers. In response,
many colleges began increasing the number of works by
authors like the Harlem Renaissance writer Zora Neale
Hurston and more contemporary writers like Gabriel García
Márquez, Toni Morrison and Maya Angelou.
The inauguration of Western literature
programs at colleges like Wright, and the repackaging of
existing courses like those at the University of Wisconsin,
have been shepherded in many cases by professors allied with
the National Association of Scholars, which is based in
Princeton, N.J. The association said it helped stoke this
revival in a conference at Lake Tahoe in 1997, to which it
invited three dozen professors.
Almost all of the new programs have been
started on a shoestring by people who say they believe that
such courses have been diluted in the name of political
correctness. The Wright program, which receives no outside
financing, has a budget of about $1,000 for supplies.
At the University of Wisconsin at Milwaukee,
students can now pursue a certificate "in the study of
the liberal arts through the great books," a rigorous
endeavor that requires them to take a two-semester survey
course in Western civilization and five courses in "the
great books." The program, which withstood a yearlong
battle in various faculty committees, emphasizes Homer,
Plato and Dante, among other Western writers, although there
have been one-time courses in the Koran and in Sanskrit
epics.
At Delta State, a university of about 4,000
students midway between Jackson, Miss., and Memphis, a new
minor in the "great books" centers on four
courses: the classical tradition (Herodotus, Euripides), the
Judeo-Christian tradition (St. Augustine, Chaucer), the
early modern world (Hume, Jane Austen) and the modern world
(Freud, Darwin).
As Professor Gans of Wright College sees it,
virtually all the writers who have asked the most profound
questions about life -- and posited the most eloquent
answers -- did so at least 50 years ago, and more likely
centuries earlier. That theirs happens to be an
overwhelmingly white male club, he said, is no reason to
counterbalance their works with those of more contemporary
writers, many of them minorities, who have yet to pass the
test of time -- no matter that some, like Mr. García
Márquez, have won the Nobel Prize.
Professor Gans added: "I wanted these
kids to have a certificate where they could go to a
four-year institution and say: 'When I was at Wright
College, I read the best that was thought and said. I
learned about Thucydides. I learned about Schopenhauer,
Plato, Mill, Aristophanes, Kant.' "
One of Professor Gans's students, Keith
Morgan, 31, who enrolled at Wright after he left the Army as
a sergeant in 1996, said he had seen much of himself in the
story of another returning veteran: Jay Gatsby. No matter
that "The Great Gatsby" and its creator, F. Scott
Fitzgerald, were white, and Mr. Morgan is black.
"I have a dream, just like Gatsby, to
be successful," said Mr. Morgan, who hopes to become a
guidance counselor and thinks a knowledge of the Western
classics will help.
"To me, as a black man, you have to get
past your color and just appreciate what's being
written," Mr. Morgan continued. "Professor Gans
chooses really good titles."
That, like so much of the discussion
surrounding the classics, is open to debate.
In starting the "great books
program" at Wright, Professor Gans proposed the Bible,
the Koran and the works of more than 140 writers drawn
largely from a list of the classics compiled by
Encyclopaedia Britannica. James Baldwin, Ralph Ellison,
Frederick Douglass and Charlotte and Emily Brontë were
among fewer than a dozen who were minorities or women.
There was no shortage of teachers and
administrators at Wright who challenged Professor Gans's
definition of "great," including Romell Murden,
the dean of student services and the chairwoman of the
college's African-American Heritage Month.
"I don't care if it's Britannica who
says this or Gans," Dean Murden said, "there are
other great thinkers they can pull out for Gans to teach. To
believe otherwise is racist in itself."
Keenly sensitive to such concerns,
administrators at Wright struck a compromise that drew more
than a dozen other professors under the "great
books" tent.
Those who wish to have their courses
imprinted with the classics designation must draw at least
half of the books on their syllabuses from the list put
forth by Professor Gans, though many have followed his lead
more closely.
What may be most remarkable at Wright, where
more than half the students are minorities and recent
immigrants, is that students who grew up worlds away have
been so drawn to courses that center on writers from Western
Europe, white America or ancient Greece or Rome.
Mr. Martinez, who moved to Chicago from
Mexico when he was a boy, wrote a paper for Professor Gans
in which he compared the climate in the cleaning-equipment
factory where he worked to the disengaged theorists whom
Gulliver observes on Laputa.
"I have encountered similar individuals
as the ones described by Gulliver," wrote Mr. Martinez,
who wants to be an engineer. "They are my employers.
Although they work in the same environment, they do not
converse with the common people (factory employees)."
Mr. Martinez, who received an "A"
on the paper, said he decided to quit his job after writing
those words.
As a graduate of the University of Wisconsin
who struggled through Shakespeare with Cliffs Notes at
his side, Professor Gans, 49, says he empathizes with his
students, who often labor to make sense of works that have
confused even the most erudite scholars. But he believes
that whatever his students extract from the classics is
beneficial.
"Anything you get out of something
profound," he said, "is better than getting 100
percent out of something of no significance."