Being Human vs. Being Hyman

Concerning Mark Hyman’s commentary on “privileged” graduation ceremonies, I thought I’d tell you a story.

When I was graduating from college many years ago, my dad told me he wasn’t sure he’d come to the ceremony. Normally, he wouldn’t have missed it. He was proud of me and let me know that in no uncertain terms.

The problem was that the college I attended sent out a list of official graduation events that included a reception for the African-American student group on campus. It was made clear that only members of this group and their guests were invited.

Now, the college was privately funded, so the bill wasn’t being footed by the taxpayers (at least not directly), but as an official college function, it *was* being paid for by all those who were paying tuition to the institution, which most certainly included my parents.

Dad was beside himself. While he thought it was okay to have a private gathering funded by members of the group, or an “official” gathering to which anyone could come, the combination of having a graduation event paid for by the college but only open to students of a particular race drove him nuts.

Some background here: my dad was a thoroughgoing liberal. In graduate school (the early to mid 1960s), he was a member of the Congress on Racial Equality (CORE). When he learned that a group of black students from Jamaica were coming to study at the university he was at (Kansas State), he made a point of signing up to be a roommate with one of them, knowing that they might have trouble finding places to stay or people to live with. He was a disciple of Bobby Kennedy. And despite some dissatisfaction with certain aspects of the Democratic Party (he voted for John Anderson in 1980) and lack of patience with knee-jerk political correctness, he remained a liberal throughout his life.

This is all to say that Dad was a man who understood the particular obstacles and challenges facing members of minority groups, particularly in higher education. But, as anyone who knew him could tell you, he was a stickler for principles and the rules that embodied them. The idea that exclusion based on race (or any other demographic feature) was wrong, except when it happened to suit the whims of a particular group, was anathema to him.

Hyman’s commentary deriding the various ceremonies held at colleges and universities that focus on particular student groups (African American students, gay and lesbian students, etc.) brought this memory back to me. In the case of Hyman’s complaints, he doesn’t make it clear whether or not the events he’s mentioning are actually closed events that actively exclude others, or simply events that focus on particular students. This isn’t a small distinction. (He suggests that they are exclusionary, but the “lavender graduation” ceremonies he refers to are also open to friends and supporters of gay and lesbian students.)

But much more important is the way Hyman makes his case. He charges those who hold such events with “bigotry.”

What a perfect example of Hyman’s blowhard rhetoric. He doesn’t take even a moment to consider *why* these groups want to have these ceremonies. Do they hate people who aren’t like them? In the vast majority of cases, I don’t think so. It’s not bigotry that drives these events. It’s the fact that some people acutely feel their minority status while in college. At a typical American college or university, someone who is not white or heterosexual is likely keenly aware of the fact that they don’t fit the demographic norm of the student body, often in ways that are unpleasant. Particularly when the group they belong to is one that has historically had limited access to higher education precisely because of their minority status (e.g. African Americans), it shouldn’t surprise us that people who are members of such a group would feel a certain solidarity with each other and want to express their pride at their accomplishment with each other, as well as with the student body as a whole.

This doesn’t mean that such gatherings should exclude others, should be funded by taxpayers, or are appropriate at all.

But charging those who create and attend such functions as bigots is itself dehumanizing. It fails to acknowledge the motivations that cause the desire for such gatherings, desires that don’t apply to groups in the majority (e.g., whites, heterosexuals, etc.).

Acknowledging the existence and validity of such feelings does nothing to weaken an argument against so-called “privileged graduations.” In fact, it strengthens it, because it shows a willingness to see things from someone else’s point of view and consider that viewpoint seriously rather than simply attacking it. Attempting to understand and acknowledge the other side’s point of view is not only the decent and human thing to do; it’s also the right thing to do simply as a matter of making one’s own case effectively.

But Hyman, as he is wont to do, simply vents his spleen, and chooses to rail against “special privileges” and political correctness at universities rather than engage in a reasonable argument. Again, there’s no reason why being reasonable would soften or nullify his argument. He can be adamantly opposed to such events and be humane and reasonable at the same time. He chooses not to.

A few days before graduation, Dad brought me two drafts of a letter he was writing to the president of my college. In one, he said that he could not in good conscience attend any graduation event, including commencement, given the college’s sponsoring of a racially exclusive event. In the other, he said that while he would attend commencement itself, he would not attend any of the other official college functions open to parents and students, given that one of the official events wasn’t open to everyone. Which of these letters, he asked, did I think was better?

Of course, he was asking me how important it was to me to have him at my commencement. I told him I preferred the one in which he said he’d come to commencement, but take a pass on everything else. Dad nodded and said okay. A few days later, he was in the crowd as I walked across the stage and got my diploma.
In the end, Dad found a way of standing up for his principles, making his point, and being fully human (and fully a father) while doing so.

Would that Hyman had one iota of the integrity that my old man had.

And that’s The Counterpoint.

Hyman Index: 4.91