COLUMN: Changing the world, one school at a time

From Ronald Kim's, "The Wretched of the Earth," Fall '00 From Ronald Kim's, "The Wretched of the Earth," Fall '00If your family were paying $30,000 a year to send you to a leading university, wouldn't you care what that school was doing with your money? Yet as tuition levels continue to skyrocket, both at elite private institutions such as Penn and at public schools around the country, student involvement in university politics seems to have reached an all-time low. Whereas the 1960s and 1970s saw widespread political activism and concern, "campus apathy" reigns supreme in U.S. higher education today. What accounts for this apathy among students who are paying such staggering sums for their education? On one level the answer is obvious: Most students wish to see a return on their enormous investments, preferably by lining up a lucrative job offer by the time of graduation. Agitating against one's administration -- for whatever reason -- may not impede the path to economic success, but it generally doesn't contribute to a high-paying career either. If this line of reasoning is valid, it would explain why university students in Western Europe have historically been much more prone to protest against real or perceived injustices than their American counterparts. Until recently, nearly all universities in England and Germany were completely free of charge. Students incurred no debt by attending school, so they were free to voice their (often loud) opinions in displays of "student power." This tradition predates the famous violent street battles of 1968 and continues in today's tamer -- but no less impassioned -- protests against recent tuition "hikes" to $500 per semester. But while this economic argument may have some validity, it doesn't explain why the majority of undergraduates at schools such as Penn appear willing to allow their university carte blanche in its actions. It certainly hasn't always been this way. In the late 1970s, for instance, students developed a nagging awareness that their schools were investing their money, either directly or through the market, in South Africa -- and thus supporting its heinous policy of apartheid. And from time to time, various activist groups have tried to ensure that administrators provide a living wage to the thousands of workers who keep their universities running. Yet the 1990s have seen extremely little student involvement in political issues affecting college campuses, perhaps even less than in the "conservative" 1980s. Except for a few protests in the mid-1990s for ethnic studies and curricular reform (one of which I participated in), students in the past decade, by and large, have begun to reflect the career- and self-oriented mindset and apolitical attitudes of most of the American public. Given this background of near-total apathy and political detachment, this month's protests by United Students Against Sweatshops at Penn, Michigan and Wisconsin take on special significance. Although the long-term goal of these student activists is to end exploitation of workers worldwide, their immediate goal is to hold their respective university administrations responsible for the conditions under which school-logo apparel is manufactured. Twenty years ago, a different group of students demanded divestment from South Africa and, in doing so, played a small but significant role in increasing public pressure on the U.S. government to stop backing that country's racist regime. Today, USAS and its supporters demand that their universities disassociate themselves from sweatshop labor and, with time, they may well broaden public awareness of workers' rights violations and the negative consequences of globalization. As these examples demonstrate, student activism, far from being some sort of self-gratifying exercise in power, can and does have an impact on the world beyond college campuses. American college students today are putting themselves in greater debt than ever before to finance their education. Their families are being asked to sacrifice more of their income to foot their bills. So it is only natural that many gravitate toward "practical" fields of study and seek financially secure jobs after graduation. But it's even more reasonable -- and principled -- for students to take a stand toward the institutions that depend so critically on their money. Even more than employees of a company, who depend for their livelihood on their continued employment, undergraduates have the right to ask -- even demand -- that their universities conduct themselves in an acceptable manner. And the actions of one university can have a major nationwide impact, as President Rodin's decision to withdraw Penn from the Fair Labor Association demonstrated last week. Don't miss this opportunity to speak out and tell your university how to spend your money. For therein lies the true, untapped potential of student power as a vehicle for positive social and political change.