A Call for Greater Conversations

When “Great Conversations” was first announced, I was excited. Communal exposure to current scholars and thought leaders is enriching. Joint intellectual engagement between the campuses can add a level of sophistication and buy-in to the YU undergraduate student body while also creating shared educational experiences and points of reference. It is inevitable that within even the most robust lineup of college courses, there will be messages, pressing questions and communal conversations that may be valuable yet absent. “Great Conversations” had the potential to create something of an informal curriculum for the general undergraduate experience at YU that is not tied to any specific major or college, and would be uniquely tailored to address the state of our university. Simply put, it was an opportunity for communal growth.

While some of those aims may have been attempted in the series’ first year, I’m left with some lingering disappointment. 

I attended the first three “Great Conversations,” and the series started strong with a discussion with Jonathan Haidt. Haidt’s main points included research-based instruction on child rearing and the developmental risks of technology usage. He also discussed his own development in college and the unique value and intellectual potential of the higher education experience. It was both engaging and interesting. 

However, even in that first “Great Conversation,” there were elements that gave me pause. 

First, there was a clear undertone of YU promotion, but at a level that isn’t unusual. More notably, the students’ questions were vetted, meaning that questions were submitted to Campus Groups prior to the event, and only then were the students who wrote the selected questions allowed to speak. There was no opportunity for open Q&A, which meant no chance for any deeper engagement with content past the pre-planned structure, and the only comments that adhered to the desired image and pre-planned conception. If the conversations are meant to improve the ideological and intellectual atmosphere of Yeshiva University, their potential resonance is limited when students are forced to watch from the sidelines, as opposed to truly being a part of the conversation itself. It’s possible this would feel less offensive if the event were advertised differently, but that’s not the reality of the situation. To borrow terms from a graduating senior of Stern College for Women who requested to stay anonymous, it’s almost as though the planners are trying to swing both: advertising the dynamic nature of a conversation while maintaining the reliability of a script.

Both of these patterns would continue, and in some cases, intensify, throughout the rest of the “Great Conversations” series. 

Next was the discussion with Prime Minister Naftali Bennett. While there were certainly perspectives offered about the Jewish role in America that were informative and instructional, the event still felt very polished and promotional. Despite my critiques, I still viewed the discussions as valuable, but not without acknowledgement of the real fallout from the structure. 

I started to lose patience, however, following the conversation with Douglas Murray. While the other two conversations seemed to be a legitimately mixed bag, the conversation with Douglas Murray felt so promotional that it can be described as self-absorbed. Much of the conversation focused heavily on the putdown of other academic institutions for the elevation of our own. The attitude felt very smug, and, as always, all of the questions were pre-planned. Despite my active and intentional affiliation with Yeshiva University and the pride I take in being a student here, I was uncomfortable sitting in the audience. The walls of the echo chamber were thick and palpable. Following that experience, I, disappointedly, didn’t feel it necessary to attend the last two “Great Conversations.” 

Unfortunately, this feeling is not one I’m unfamiliar with, and reflects what I think is an unfortunate habit of Yeshiva University. Self-promotion and self-improvement are not the same thing, and while I’m certainly enjoying my undergraduate experience, there is much to be improved on. Quietly pushing the impossible message that our university has it all figured out, when no person and no institution can legitimately make that claim, erodes trust. Communal buy-in that is genuine and valuable happens when there is integrity and openness, while overconfidence is intellectually underwhelming. Convincing students that nothing is wrong doesn’t make problems go away. Though a positive image is definitely important for morale and atmosphere, people can see right through it when it is bolstered so intensely that it becomes disconnected from reality.

With that, let’s open up the “Great Conversations” Q&A: What, in fact, makes a conversation great? The term can refer to anything from the degree to which a concept being discussed challenges the interlocutors or onlookers, incites reflection or invites intellectual engagement. It can refer to the freshness of ideas or the invigorating articulation of timeless ones. It can refer to the enjoyability of the event itself or a subsequent positive effect. Despite the vagueness of the term, one thing I am sure about is the inability for true greatness to develop when it is overshadowed by a refusal to be vulnerable and a commitment to self-aggrandizement. 

I see a lot of potential in the concept of “Great Conversations,” and for the sake of all that’s possible, I hope next year looks different.

Photo caption: President Ari Berman and Douglas Murray
Photo credit: Gav Nickerson