Earlier this week, I was set to write a nice pro-free speech story concerning the stupidity of the Columbia College Student Council’s position regarding juicycampus.com. After sifting through my own outrage, I reminded myself that there’s no place for markedly anonymous ad hominem gibberish at the University, but questioned whether everything we do as Columbians demands that we act as academics, which is perhaps the expectation of the CCSC. Thus, I was left with the thought of what the council, as the newly self-appointed purveyor of acceptable student behavior, would say to those that, from time to time, desire a break from the academy, especially when that break appeals to the lowest common denominator.
Every couple of months, a group of five other friends and I get together and attend a Ring of Honor Wrestling show at the Manhattan Center. We shout four-letter epithets at the characters we don’t like and cheer on those we do. We loudly applaud the shoeless bald man when he’s hit over the head with a tin sign or sent flying through a table. We laugh at poorly acted in-ring challenges for championship belts and heckle the bad guys that trash-talk New York City. Our language is obscene and our voices are mostly lost by night’s end. Sometimes our antics elicit complaints from those around us, likely first-timers unaware that an ROH wrestling show isn’t exactly the opera. Above all, the six of us take the opportunity to, for a few hours, escape whatever awful, stressful times could be happening on in our lives, retreating to an arena that encourages our complete moronic immaturity, fully aware that the show exists for no reason other than to entertain us.
After the show, we return to our different lives as students, employees, or off-duty servicemen. For me, it’s back to the mostly monotonous academic bubble—one where, institutionally, little ever changes—that’s remained the central focus of my life for the past few years. Nonetheless, especially around midterm season, it can become a taxing experience, and any minor escape from the books can become a necessity just to maintain sanity. Sometimes, that escape means retreating to a place completely opposite from the highbrow intellectual theater perpetuated by the academy—an absurd event with friends that provides much-needed personal enjoyment.
As my time at Columbia as an undergraduate inches toward its inevitable conclusion, I naturally wonder what exactly the school expects of its students once they leave the gates as graduates. The vast majority of our education has been framed around cherry-picked classics spread out through a series of academic disciplines, aimed to help us think differently about the world around us, challenge our old beliefs with new ones, investigate untested areas, and learn with others for the greater good of civilization. Yet there are clear restrictions to this. The University does not care to incorporate what it believes violates the established norms and values of its own academic context. In furthering its own mission, it consigns itself to a place comprised of narrowly defined and predominantly scholarly discussion.
Maybe it’s because I’m 22 and, in large part, school has always made up a large part of my life, but I find it impossible to constantly remain the 24-hour academic Columbia both allows for and likely desires. This is where the University sometimes troubles me—as the future owner of an Ivy League degree, it seems as if it can become almost unethical to partake in nonacademic escapes . I like to believe that the degree celebrates an incredibly transformative period of independent growth, but cannot help but wonder if it means losing a bit of oneself and replacing it with the insignia of a venerable light-blue crown. Maybe that’s just a sign of growing up.
As we’re well aware, the real world is quite unlike Columbia. The largely minor episodes of hate, though shocking to our own Pleasantville, pale in comparison to what really takes place in society. When hate occurs within the ivory tower, it’s denounced, silenced, and quickly brushed aside so that academics may continue unscathed. Perhaps that’s the only reasonable explanation (outside of grandstanding) for a group of elected students to attempt to censor a possibly hurtful Web site, regardless of its free speech implications.
I’m sometimes embarrassed to tell friends that, every now and then, I enjoy acting like an uncivilized animal among others at a pro wrestling show. Most look perplexed when I tell them, possibly victims of a widespread perception that it’s just stupid and adds nothing of value to our lives. Though if doing it both relieves stress and helps us reconnect with the much larger nonacademic world beyond the gates, even if only for a few hours, maybe it’s just as important to an overall well-roundedness as reading the next great book. Or maybe I’m fooling myself and it really is an academic matter. I always thought MIT’s media studies class on American Pro Wrestling looked interesting.
Jarid Maged is a student in the School of General Studies studying political science. Frozen in the Ninth Circle runs alternate Fridays. Opinion@columbiaspectator.com