Why we are shallow F Sionil Jose 1 I was visited an old Asian friend who lived here 10 years ago.

I was
floored his observation that though we have lots of talented people, as a whole, we continue to be
shallow. 2 Recently, I was seated beside former Senator Letty Shahani, PhD in Comparative Literature
from the Sorbonne, watching a medley of Asian dances. The stately and classical Japanese number with
stylized movements which perhaps took years to master elicited what seemed to me grudging applause.
Then, the Filipino tinikling which any one can learn in 10 after all that energetic jumping, an almost
standing ovation. Letty turned to me and asked, are we so 3 Yes, indeed, and for how long? 4 This is a
question which I have asked myself, which I hope all of us should ask ourselves every so often. Once we
have answered it, then we will move on to a more elevated sensibility. And with this sensibility, we will
then be able to deny the highest positions in government to those nincompoops who have nothing
going for them except popularity, what an irresponsible and equally shallow media had created. As my
foreign friend said, there is nothing to read in our major papers. 5 Again, why are we shallow? 6 There
are so many reasons. One lies in our educational system which has diminished not just scholarship but
excellence. There is less emphasis now on the humanities, in the study of the classics which enables us
to have a broader grasp of our past and the philosophies of this past. I envy those Hindus and Buddhists
who have in their religion philosophy and ancestor worship which build in the believer a continuity with
the past, and that most important ingredient in the building of a nation memory. 7 Sure, our Christian
faith, too, has a philosophical tradition, particularly if we connect it to the ancient Greeks and Romans.
Remember, the first Bible was in Greek. But Greek, Latin and the classics in these languages are no
longer taught in our schools the way these are still studied in many universities in Europe. 8 We are
shallow because we are mayabang, ego driven, and do not have the humility to understand that we are
only human, much too human to mistake knowledge for wisdom. We can see this yabang in some of our
public commentators, particularly on TV the who think that because they have so much knowledge
available now on the Web at the click of a button they can answer every question posed to them. What
they do not realize is that knowledge is not wisdom. Until they recognize that important if sometimes
awful difference, they will continue to bluster their way to the top at our expense because we, the
people, will then have to suffer their arrogance and ignorance. 1 9 We are shallow because with this
arrogance, we accept positions far beyond our competence. Because there is no critical tradition in this
country a tradition which will easily separate the chaff from the grain, we cannot recognize fakery from
the real goods. That outstanding scholar, Wilfredo Villacorta, is a rare bird when offered a high position
in government, he refused it because he knew he was not qualified for the job. Any other mayabang
academic would have grabbed it although he knows he handle it. And so it happens always the nitwits
who hold such high positions stubbornly hold on to their posts, bamboozling their subordinates who
may be brighter than them for that is the only way those who are inferior feel they can have respect. 10
On the other hand, the intelligent person will be aware of his shortcomings. He does not hesitate to ask
the opinion of those who know more than him on particular subjects. If he is a government hierarch, he
will surround himself with advisers who he knows can supply him with guidance and background
possessing as they do more knowledge, experience and wisdom than him. Such an official is bound to
commit fewer mistakes because he knows himself. 11 We are shallow because we lack this most
important knowledge who we are and the limits to what we can do. 12 We also lack the perception, and
the courage, for instance, to deny these religious quacks and the thousands who listen and believe in
them. Sure, religion is the opium of the masses as Marx said. So then, how can we prevent the masa
from taking this poison without recognizing their right to make fools of themselves? Again, shallowness
because the good people are silent. Ubi boni tacent, malum prosperat. Where good men are silent, evil
prospers. 13 This shallowness is the impediment to prosperity, to justice, and men of goodwill should
emphasize this, take risks even in doing so. As the late Salvador P. Lopez said, is better to be silenced
than to be 14 We are shallow because our media are so horribly shallow. Every morning, I peruse the
papers and there is so little to read in them. It is the same with radio all that noise, that artifice. 15 I turn
on the TV on prime time and what do I get? Five juvenile commentators gushing over the amors of
movie stars, who is shacking up with whom. One of the blabbering panelists I distinctly remember was
caught cheating some years back at some movie award. How could she still be on TV after that moral
destruct? And the telenovelas, how utterly asinine, bizarre, foolish, insipid moronic and mephitic they
are! And there are so many talented writers in our vernaculars and in English as the Palanca Awards
show every year why they harnessed for TV? Those TV moguls have a stock answer the ratings of these
shows are very high. Popularity not quality is their final arbiter. They give our people garbage and they
are now giving it back to all of us in kind! So I must not be blamed if, most of the time, I turn on BBC.
Aljazeera, rather than the local TV channels. It is such a pleasure to read The New York Times, theSan
Jose Mercury News, the Washington Post, to listen to on US public radio and public TV where my thirst
for knowledge (and good entertainment) is quenched. 2 ANOTHER SCHOOL YEAR: WHY? JOHN CIARDI
Although John Ciardi was an accomplished poet in his own right, most people know him only through his
translation of Inferno. I discovered him quite accident, as you will see. In 1988 or 1989, when I was
working at the University of Dallas, I came across an old, mustard yellow pamphlet while cleaning out
some files. The title intrigued me, and I spent a few minutes reading it. I soon found myself immersed in
the ideas and the literary style: This is not only poignant, but a good read, to boot. Time passed (as it
tends to do). I left UD for Grinnell College, Communicorp in Atlanta, and then St. Bonaventure. In late
1997, while searching for some words of welcome for the entering freshman class, I found myself
ripping apart my old files, which had been moved several times in the previous eight years. Alas, the
pamphlet was no where to be found. I sent messages to two groups, hoping someone could supply a
copy for me. No one could, but several people remembered the essay, and asked me to send it along if I
found it. Others were just intrigued my description, and eagerly awaited my success. One person
connected me with an archivist at Rutgers University, but she could not find the speech either. I went to
the Internet, searching on Ciardi, and words I remembered from the title. Again, nothing. But in the
Library of Congress I found several references to biographer, Edward M. Cifelli, who published at the
University of Arkansas Press. Off to the University of Arkansas press, where I was fortunate enough to
find bio, indicating he was a professor at the County College of Morris in New Jersey. Hitting their web
site, I found other names, guessed at the protocol, and sent him a message. He knew the essay, and
although he had just returned papers to the Ciardi estate, told me that what I was looking for was
published in the Rutgers Alumni Monthly, November, 1954. From there, David Pickens at Rutgers
tracked it down, gave me permission to use it here, and sent me the copy, which I have reproduced
here. Believe me, this copy is much more legible than anything get from Rutgers, so please bother him
with more requests. I believe I have typed it correctly, but send me any typos you might find so I can
correct them (there is no word missing after downright, the way). And remember, this was presented to
the College of Men at Rutgers in 1954, which explains the non gender inclusive language. I hope you
agree that my electronic sleuthery was worth it. Without further ado, I present, in its entirety, the full
text of the speech as it was excerpted in the magazine, and later the pamphlet. Presented to the high
school students of New Jersey their State University with the belief that those who read and think
about the enclosed message will find a real inspiration and a challenge. John A. Ciardi, associate
professor of English at Rutgers University presented a most inspiring address at the opening convocation
at the Colleges for Men. 4 Feeling that this address carries a real message to the prospective college
student, your State University is pleased to bring it to you in this pamphlet. Mr. Ciardi, one of the
foremost American poets, came to Rutgers University from Harvard where he had served as an assistant
professor. He is a member of Phi Beta Kappa, author of several well known volumes of poetry and has
just published a translation of Inferno. This translation has been well received the critics and Professor
Ciardi is now at work on translations of the second and third parts of the Divine Comedy. John Ciardi,
associate professor of English, has condensed for the Alumni Monthly his address at the convocation
opening the academic year. Another School Year: Why? There was a time when even the faculty knew
what made a college. From the time the university tradition took form in the Renaissance, until the time
the faculty committees were first heard to discuss for Modern a professor could afford to be downright
about the classics, philosophy, history, theology, mathematics, the sciences, and language study.
Whether the student meant to be a teacher, preacher, doctor, lawyer, or scientist, the core of his
training was essentially the same. Within the last fifty years, however, colleges have been adding new
courses at a fantastic rate. Consult a catalog for the academic year and then consult one for 19501951.
You will find that where fifty courses were offered in the earlier catalogue, two hundred and fifty are
offered in the later one. This increase in specialization is, of course, implicit in the nature of the
twentieth century technology. Much of it is absolutely necessary if the wheels of modern living are to be
kept turning. Nevertheless, we on the faculty have had many occasions for head scratching as we read
of new developments in education. We have seen the process one of my former colleagues described as
Harvard the engineering school in and we have seen MIT working to make itself the New Athens of the
Humanities. John Mason Brown once described the MIT process as the The Harvard process he
described as the Nevertheless even a man as dull and insensitive as a professor has something in mind
as he ponders this exploding curriculum and as he faces each new school year. What is a college for? Let
me tell you one of the earliest disasters in my career as a teacher. It was January of 1940 and I was fresh
out of graduate school starting my first semester at the University of Kansas City. Part of the reading for
the freshman English course was Hamlet. Part of the student body was a beanpole with hair on top who
came into my class, sat down, folded his arms, and looked at me as if to say: right, damn you, teach me
Two weeks later we started Hamlet. Three weeks later he came into my office with his hands on his hips.
It is easy to put your hands on your hips if you are not carrying books, and this one was an unburdened
soul. he said, came here to be a pharmacist. Why do I have to read this And not having a book of his own
to point to, he pointed at mine which was lying on the desk. 5 Fourteen years later, I am still teaching,
and I am here to tell you that the business of the college is not only to train you, but to put you in touch
with what the best human minds have thought. If you have no time for Shakespeare, for a basic look at
philosophy, for the community of the fine arts, for that lesson of development we call you have no
business being in college. You are on your way to being that new species of mechanized savage, the
Neanderthal. Our colleges inevitably graduate a number of such life forms, but it cannot be said that
they went to rather, the college went through making contact. No one gets to be a human being
unaided. There is not enough time in a single lifetime to invent for oneself everything one needs to
know in order to be a civilized human. Assume, for example, that you want to be a physicist. You pass
the great stone halls, of say, MIT, and there cut into stone are the names of the master scientists. The
chances are that few of you will leave your names to be cut into those stones. Yet any one of you who
managed to stay awake through part of a high school course in physics, knows more about physics than
did many of those great makers of the past. You know more because they left you what they knew. The
first course in any science is essentially a history course. You have to begin learning what the past
learned for you. Except as a man has entered the past of the race he has no function in civilization. And
as this is true of the techniques of mankind, so is it true of spiritual resources. Most of these resources,
both technical and spiritual, are stored in books. Books, the arts, and the techniques of science, are
peculiar accomplishment. When you have read a book, you have added to your human experience. Read
Homer and your mind includes a piece of mind. Through books you can acquire at least fragments of the
mind and experience of Virgil, Dante, list is endless. For a great book is necessarily a gift: it offers you a
life you have not time to live yourself, and it takes you into a world you have not time to travel in literal
time. A civilized human mind is, in essence, one that contains many such lives and many such worlds. If
you are too much in a hurry, or too arrogantly proud of your own limitations, to accept as a gift to your
humanity some pieces of the minds of Sophocles, of Aristotle, of right down the scale and down the
ages to Yeats, Einstein, E.B. White, and Ogden you may be protected the laws governing manslaughter,
and you may be a voting entity, but you are neither a developed human being nor a useful citizen of a
democracy. I think it was La Rochefoucauld who said that most people would never fall in love if they
read about it. He might have said that no one would ever manage to become a human if he read about
it. I speak, I am sure, for the faculty of the liberal arts colleges and for the faculties of the specialized
schools as well, when I say that a university has no real existence and no real purpose except as it
succeeds in putting you in touch, both as specialists and as humans, with those human minds your
human mind needs to include. The faculty, its very existence, says implicitly: have been aided many
people, and many books, and the arts, in our 7 attempt to make ourselves some sort of storehouse of
human experience. We are here to make available to you, as best we can, that I hope you will want to
enter those minds and those worlds that books can give you. That is essentially what we have to offer.
On the letterheads and on the banners, this is Rutgers University. It is a great university and our pride in
it is part of its truest existence. Yet, once inside the letterhead and the banner, what we really are, is the
Rutgers Reading and Discussion Society. I hope you will enjoy the meetings. I hope we have to cancel
too many memberships. Good luck, and good learning. 8