Went to my girlfriend’s sister’s college graduation ceremony at Indiana University. The same school where I studied classical guitar for a year and then got a degree in comparative literature. In those days I was depressed and didn’t care about my future. Now I’m a barista who can play Bach and quote Baudelaire. I almost qualify for medicaid.
I don’t have a physical copy of my degree and I didn’t go to my own graduation ceremony. But I’m trying to be present in the lives of loved ones.
The modern university is an intellectual sweatshop for alien tech scabs, an assembly line factory churning out arrogant women and rankled minorities. 40 percent of the graduating class was asian. Over half of all graduates were women.
For the price of a small fortune, the university will mutilate your mind. It will butcher your brain into an inoperative pulp. You’ll become a prissy, reactive retard with a paranoid, persecution fetish. Your sole mode of engagement with the rich history of art and achievement will be counting up the lack of black and brown bodies.
You’ll learn new ways to feel marginalized and downtrodden. You’ll be empowered to intimidate and harass your opponents into silence.
It’s an apprenticeship in the fine art of accusation, a master class on the craft of censorship. A liberal arts education prepares you for a cold, competitive, overpopulated society by blunting your vision and pampering your emotions. Your time at a university will erode your independence, dissolve your resilience and leave you thousands of dollars in debt with no way of paying it back.
Whites, hispanics and blacks wallow in self pity and study useless pseudo subjects while asians and indians surge through the math, computer science, engineering, business and medicine programs. As whites become more listless, defeatist and narcissistic, the tech, financial and engineering jobs will be given to unscrupulous and opportunistic foreigners who’ll happily scrape and scam their way into the upper ranks of American society.
I sat in the balcony of assembly hall and browsed the graduation pamphlet. It listed the dissertations of the graduate students. They were all mind numbingly specialized studies on biological, mechanical and business arcana. No one reads these things, not even the people who write them.
When I looked at the crowd, almost every single person had their face in a phone. A few elderlies talked to each other or sat and stared ahead. In twenty years, basic social behavior has mutated into a monstrous, unrecognizable form. The transformation has been so swift and sweeping, we don’t know how to process it.
Why are phones preferable to people? What’s so painful about sharing silence or small talk with family and friends? It took time to prepare our withered souls for constant electronic stimulation. If you gave a medieval peasant an iphone, he’d burn it.
The atomic age of television was a prelude to the era of smartphone solitude. The lulling screen announced the end of mammalian belonging. Smartphones make it impossible to be alone or together. They keep you separated from yourself and insulated from other people. The phones are hot enough to scorch your loins, but they lack warmth. We’re losing softness, silence and darkness, sexual difference and complementarity in our fascination with the garish gleam of a hard, androgynous interface.
Fred Luddy is a nerd who made a fortune farting around on a computer. I’m still not sure what he does because it sounds like meaningless tech/new age jargon. It likely involves automating some obscure process, eliminating jobs and blowing shareholders. He gave a rambling, dry mouthed commencement speech about the promise of the future. It was also about trusting your gut, because it’s fashionable to praise intuition as long as it isn’t racist.
Luddy is giddy about the future. All the technological and scientific breakthroughs on the horizon make today an exciting time to be alive. The graduates of 2017 are lucky because they will die later than Luddy. My intuition tells me he’s an anxious transhumanist gunning for life extension or immortality. He’s bleary eyed in the dawn, chugging multivitamins and trying to upload his flat soul onto the internet.
The grads are leaving the university with punishing debt and entering a job market structured by ruthless downsizing, offshoring and automation. They’ll move far away from their families to live in anonymous, adulterated urban hives. Their every act and word will be digitally displayed for the unsparing judgement of strangers.
Starved for spiritual and romantic nourishment, they’ll binge on pot and porn. They’ll spend what little they make on craft cider and fad breakfasts. Their gizmos will be affordable but they’ll have roommates in their thirties. But we might cure Alzheimer’s soon.
And then there was the speech by the university president, Michael Mcrobbie, an old, quivering tub of Australian goo with the face of a fat buzzard. Mcrobbie is one of the highest paid university presidents in America. He makes over 1 million dollars a year to bootlick donors into giving him enough money to build a new tech facility every three years.
He gave a fatuous speech about the post truth era that was a passive aggressive attack on the trump administration. It was a pompous tirade ill suited to the occasion. In defense of absolute truth, Mcrobbie quoted Ralph Waldo Emerson to a room full of Asians who don’t speak English. He invoked the storied tradition of impartial inquiry to obliquely slander the president before a distracted, disjointed crowd of 22 year olds who went to school because they believed it would get them a job.
Indiana University is a gargantuan midwestern school with 46,000 students, a sprawling network of administrators and disposable, contracted labor. The word education loses its meaning in a mass society. It’s impossible to educate an enormous heap of individuals, especially when they lack a shared history or culture. The best you can do is provide technical training to an elite class for the building and maintenance of automated systems.
But Mcrobbie wanted to jiggle his jowls in his wizard robe and shake his fists towards the heavens over the fate of truth, as if he were in a quaint, new England college in 1837. It was a glaring mismatch of sentiment and setting, but the audience was so indifferent and friable, the discord went unnoticed.
As Mcrobbie gears up for another grueling year of patronage seeking, he would be wise to wash 19th century European and American thinkers out of his mouth. The modern university is its own beast, it has broken free from the lineage of those starchy educators.
Our religious and humanist traditions are decaying as we dump money and manpower into computer science. Our ethnic composition is fracturing through globalist economic policies and transnational corporate lobbying. A more fitting speech from a university president would be in mandarin or binary.