Fearing Opinions: An Opinions Editorial
At Exeter, we share many of our opinions each and every day—from Harkness tables to those in the dining hall and in our dorms—our voices carry many of the thoughts and reactions that play inside our heads. Despite the fact that Exonians are quick to speak about as well as discuss ideas and issues, very few spend time writing out their thoughts and even fewer are willing to publish those thoughts.
In fact, over the past few years, the Opinions page has been littered with inconsequential pieces used to fill space, our board’s page included. The reasons for this are simple: few people are willing to write for opinions and fewer of those people actually care about what they are writing (the second reason existing in tandem with a deep appreciation that all writers have opened themselves to the process).
The first reason is understandable, but disappointing. People either do not care to think about, do not have the time to write or do not want to publish their ideas. As Opinions editors and writers, we understand the fears that surround these issues more than anyone. Writing an opinion for the first time was one of the scariest things either of us ever did. We understand that fear intimately, and we appreciate anyone who has ever written an opinions piece, especially for these pages, because it is a type of fear that few people ever confront. At the same time, it is one of the most rewarding fears to confront because that confrontation brings with it an indescribable amount of mental, intellectual and social freedom.
The second reason is a bit more perplexing. If one has already gotten over the fear of publishing an opinion, why write about a topic in which one has little interest? In some ways, this path gives the writer a shield; if there is criticism for an opinion, it is not something the writer actually cared about. While the fear of judgement is understandable to some extent, writing pieces about ideas that are unimportant to the writer deprives both the writer and the community. It falls into the same trap that snap judgements do; perhaps harmful, perhaps harmless, but ultimately useless. Most writers, ourselves included, have fallen into this trap before. And this only perpetuates and feeds a culture, especially in this paper—a culture that has no choice but to reaffirm these useless articles to seem useful week after week, because there are no others pieces of relevant thought or provocative opinion left to publish.
What we have learned in the last year is that writing opinions that one cares about is vital. It is vital because it involves the formation of ideas, encouraging real “thoughting,” which, unlike “thinking,” involves a degree of consciousness in developing and expressing ideas that somehow matter to us. There’s a certain irony to the fact that we’re so quick to form snap opinions about everyday occurrences, and we constantly post those online (the Internet is public, people!) to Twitter, YikYak and the likes, but a well-thought out opinion about something we care about—something that is important to us—almost never reaches a place for others to see and experience.
Over the years, we have come to realize that there are different types of fear that we face in regards to our opinions. There fears range from participation grades in class to the thoughts of kids around the Harkness table with whom we hope to become friends, but our greatest fear is linked to our ego. Exonians on the whole aspire to “sound smart” and cringe at the thought of “sounding dumb.” After all, Exeter is an academic institution. “Sounding smart” is beyond a means to gain respect; it’s a currency here, and currency is power. At this school, much like in the rest of the world, assertiveness and correctness are tied into intelligence. So many figure that when we cease being assertive, we are vulnerable to “sounding dumb” and losing the associated power. At times, students at the Harkness table try to defend points they made at the beginning of class, even if the entire discussion has disproved the point, simply because the students want to stick with their initial idea. For some reason, we see admitting our faults as unassertive, which would make us seem unintelligent That is our biggest mistake. In fact, admitting one’s imperfection because of a new, enlightened realization most often requires self-respect and confidence. It’s okay for our ideas to change and evolve over time. In fact, it would be ridiculous for our ideas not to change based on our experiences. These notions, however, are not properly reinforced.
When you publish an opinion, yes, your name is inked in italic script followed by a smudgy apostrophe and two numbers to indicate your class year. True, there is no mistaking that you are the one wrote your article. Sure, you are putting your opinion out there to whomever may choose to take a pause and skim through pages A4 and A5 of The Exonian. But by no means are you sentencing those words to describe your thoughts on that topic for the rest of eternity. We didn’t come to Exeter to remain static. We came to grow and learn, and that requires change. You are going to change, and naturally your opinions are going to change. Why is it so hard to remember that and honor it?