This week, we all go back to school. The holidays away from school have reminded me why it is I keep slogging it out as a student. There is something important about a student’s viewpoint. Unfortunately, we often abandon the student’s viewpoint when we leave school. We assume that maturity entitles us to adopt one or another way of seeing the world from among the millions of ways of seeing that we once enjoyed in our student days. In school, we were given the latitude to explore ideas, possibilities, identities. We mark eras by our explorations. We remember the ’60’s for long-haired, free-loving sit-ins; the ’70’s for Supertramp, anti-war marches and glam rock; the ’80’s for young republicans, Alex P. Keaton and bull markets; and on and on. As students, we are allowed to experiment with different viewpoints as freely as we can try on clothing. But later, we are forced to take responsibility for ourselves.
This is a great worry to someone as irresponsible as me. I have a habit of thinking aloud. Sometimes I even sound as if I have committed myself to a particular course or to a specific point of view when, in fact, at least inside my head, I have prefaced my statement with “what if …. ” For me this has no horrible consequence. I annoy a few people, especially my wife. But I can think of at least one vocation for which the habit of thinking aloud is unforgivable.
Politicians who talk too much soon become moving targets for the media. And sometimes there is no amount of spin-doctoring or damage control that can salvage an spiraling political career. Think of Jesse Jackson’s “hymietown” comment. But some do nothing and still attract damaging press. One person, in particular, comes to mind. I think of what happened to Michael Dukakis, former governor of Massachusetts. Web sites offer charitable biographies, while omitting one acutely sad incident. During the 1988 presidential campaign, Lyndon LaRouche made allegations that Dukakis had paid visits to a psychiatrist. Although this accusation, by itself, cannot be held as the cause of Dukakis’ withdrawal from political life, nevertheless, the balance of his career was marred by a series of increasingly disastrous public relations blunders. I’m not sure what is saddest about the psychiatrist allegation:
• that anyone could be so stupid and inhumane as to make it in the first instance?
• or that Dukakis answered the allegation with silence?
• or that the public spectacle might prevent many desperate people from seeking help for fear of ridicule?
• or that commentators still feel compelled to note that the allegation was never substantiated?
• or that people continue to call it an “allegation?”
A fickle public can be ruthless. A single misstep (or in Dukakis’ case, no step at all) can bring one’s world crashing down. But if I am a student, my life is flexible. I can try out an idea, practise its vocabulary, strut in public as if the idea defined me, then discard it on a whim without attracting any notice. If a life were ruined for every weird piercing or thoughtless word or wild shirt or bad haircut or joint puffed, then we’d be a sorry race.