The Minutia of Grandeur
Aliza Hapgood Watters '04
It’s a tricky thing—this business of morality, this business of academic honor. Right and wrong seem to work in gradations, instead of clearly demarcated systems. So why was I asked to speak about it? I don’t know—I cheated on Sixth Grade vocab quizzes with unadulterated abandon in a room filled with pink geraniums in Philadelphia in 1994. But as a result of much pondering, I claim to have a bit of a handle on it all these days. So I’m going to say only four things. And I want you to listen hard—so hard that you can hear me telling myself that 578 strangers aren’t that scary, and that sometimes I really do know what I’m talking about.
One (1): I spent my past semester in the Czech Republic, studying Central and Eastern European Poetry and Literature. I lived mostly with other American students, one of whom went to Colgate. Let’s call him Alex. At dinner one night, Alex and I got to talking about making money at school, and he said that when he was strapped for cash, he would write papers for people, any people, any subject, under ten pages, provided that they bring him a copy of the necessary texts, a thesis statement, and rough outline. He did it for 20 dollars and guaranteed his clientele an A or an A-, or he’d refund the money. I remember taking a huge gulp of water and saying to him, totally straight-faced: “I have absolutely no respect for that, Alex. None. I think that’s disgusting.”
All people have their “issues”—the things on which they will not, or cannot, budge or compromise. For many of my female friends, it’s prostitution or pornography. For my brother, it’s why political conservatism should reign. For me, it’s Quakerism, birth control, Randall Cunningham, and intellectual integrity. Alex had, inadvertently, struck one of my chords. He argued that his small, isolated acts of academic dishonesty—done on behalf of individuals that simply needed to get a certain grade in a course in order to pass—do not have a fraction of the repercussions I claimed they did. He scoffed when I talked about the weighty undermining of an intellectual community and said that my lofty expressions were not a reflection of reality—that people did what they needed to do in order to succeed, and that it will always be that way.
Two (2): On July 2nd of this year, the lead piece in the Education section of the New York Times read: “Finding That Today’s Students Are Bright, Eager and Willing to Cheat.” And it touched on what I considered to be Alex’s most compelling point—that people do what they need to do in order to succeed. The article was based on a study that researched how young professionals perform and think about their work. It states that “a number of people, aged 15 to 35, acknowledged a willingness to compromise their values and to cut corners ethically and professionally to advance their careers…. They said they knew right from wrong and intended to follow a strict code of values after they gained power and authority.”
Just as Alex alluded to, many people develop and promote patterns decision-making that allow for a delay in moral reasoning. It often has nothing to do with an individual’s ability to know right from wrong—it is, in fact, the opposite—but it has to do instead with our willingness to overlook that differentiation in the present, and render it irrelevant if and when the end result yields us the power or authority in the future that we sought in the beginning. And in addition, we are apparently fine with the implicit hypocrisy of espousing ethical behavior once we are secure in these new positions.
Three (3): I have heard so many times that honor and integrity are best measured by what you do when you are alone—in the absence of the judging gestures or glances, or ears of passerby, or without the members of your community evaluating you as you speak and listen and write and act. Whenever this is said to me, I laugh a little and cannot help but miss the point entirely, and intentionally. I like the idea of someone finding a tangible moral fiber within the private, often useless, activities that make my day: reading books, writing and talking about things, designing my own fictional engagement ring on www.adiamondisforever.com, eating soup, or plucking my eyebrows.
I do get the point though. It’s not difficult to ascertain: the construction of self is both a private and public process, and people’s moral integrity and honorable actions are born not just from the part of oneself who makes decisions graciously and with integrity in a public sphere, but also from the self who ponders the minutia and grandeur of life as she plucks her face alone in her room at night. The compromise of these two realms—public and private—it seems, is the ultimate goal in moral development. It is to think and act with integrity, freely and willingly, regardless of an audience, and, moreover, regardless of recognition.
Four (4): Middlebury is a really strange, but tremendous place. It’s one of a VERY few schools in the United States to be governed by an Honor Code. It has extreme weather; extreme beer-induced devotion to Ice Hockey; extremely funny bike accidents on the pathways; extremely intelligent students, faculty, and staff; extremely high standards; and most importantly, extreme institutional integrity. This integrity can be seen in our commitment to the environment, to an academic life in which exams are always un-proctored, and to our review of the entire Honor Code system every four years. Hopefully, you will love it here, and hopefully, you will realize, right from the start, how different it is.
The Honor Code is so simple, and we muddy it up all the time with things that don’t ultimately matter. There is no Good Cop/Bad Cop here; there’s just your clearness of mind and your respect for the fact that you’re just one of 2,300 tiny embryos in one gigantic uterus called Middlebury College. So honor minutia, and honor grandeur. Recognize your debt to the people who worked so hard to get you here, and thank the people who feed you, house you and clean for you while you are here. Make eye contact with everyone you pass on the walkways. Always eat the French Toast sticks in Proctor. Go to all of your classes and get taught, and then teach something yourself. Respect your work with such intensity that it scares you. And when you sign your name on the Honor Code today, sign it real pretty. And mean it.