“The Exonian Republic” and Other Fallacies

The Community recognizes a populace. The Sovereignty distinguishes it. The Republic, then, legitimizes the authority of all its subjects. The United States is a commonality of Americans, distinguished from other countries, and governed by a democracy of the American people. By definition, the U.S. is a republic, wherefore each American is a citizen and is begotten with the duties and privileges associated with citizenship.

Phillips Exeter Academy is a community. Can we, hesitantly, call it a sovereign campus? Can we, tentatively, say that it is a microcosmic republic? And can we, daringly, label ourselves the citizens of this “Exonian Republic?” It seems absurd, to equate this campus to a country and the average Exonian to an American citizen. Such a notion reeks of the infamous “Exeter Bubble,” as if one were implying that not only was this school beyond the worldliness of the world but an entirely separate political entity. Rightfully, most students would ridicule the idea of an Exonian Republic because they understand that Exeter is merely a private institution and that studentship is not synonymous with citizenship.

Yet if this is so glaringly evident, isn’t there something misplaced about the anti-institutionalism that so grossly pervades Exeter? Many of us have been afflicted with a malignant naiveté, whose symptoms include holding the moronic belief that somehow, we are to be treated as citizens by this institution. As such, Exonians are hasty in print and online to defend what they believe are their civic privileges. This is the tumorous root of our campaigns against a voiceless Student Council, a ruthlessly-prejudiced Discipline Committee and the general eradication of our free speech.

These are all groundless arguments because democracy, right to fair trial and right to free speech are the luxuries of a citizen! Citizenship does not describe our status at Exeter, where we are merely the consumers of a preparatory education. Liberté, égalité, fraternité: these have no place at a private establishment. We are all attending this school consensually and must utterly abide by its customs and rules. Those of us who are seriously inciting revolution against the administration, a coup d’état for the sake of our “privileges,” should be openly mocked and persecuted for their wayward sense of entitlement. And to those of us who would like to know the true extent of our lack of rights, let me exhibit the freedoms that we do not have.

Commonwealths have democracy. America has democracy. An institution does not. Instead of an egalitarian forum, Exeter is controlled by an apparatus called the Board of Trustees. The Student Council is a dirty sham, a prop masquerading as a voice for the plebeian students. To confirm this, one need only watch as Rebecca Ju and her motley crew of party-planners spend the next year bumbling around, pretending to achieve tangible progress while their reforms are strong-armed by the real administration. I not only state that the student body does not have power, but daresay that it cannot have power. We are not citizens of an Exonian Republic, so why should we be granted power at all? 

With every republic comes a judicial branch, which aims to uphold a citizen’s right to a fair trial. In an institution such as Exeter, justice does not the serve the individual. The Discipline Committee is in essence a damage-control program, existing not to “judge” students but rather to protect the Academy. Through culling the herd and removing the harmful from the docile, the Discipline Committee works as a brutally efficient public-relations tool. It may preach about ethics, but never forget that the purity of your transcript comes second to Exeter’s self-preservation. Why should Exeter, an institution with a prestigious reputation at stake, ever grace disobedience with the hand of Lady Justice?

Freedom of speech is the cornerstone of the social contract between a citizen and his republic. An institution, however, has no obligation to defend such a liberty. Day after day, Exeter rhetorically neuters and mentally sterilizes its students with Orwellian jargon such as “appropriation,” “micro-aggression” and “political correctness.” The E Book’s publication guidelines state that the community must prevent “the publication of material that humiliates, disparages or demeans group identities.” In a republic, this would be a threat against mediums such as satire, which enable liberal criticism against any societal target. Exeter is the academic haven of “youth from every quarter,” however, so shouldn’t it establish a veneer of euphoric friendliness, even at the cost of regulating self-expression?

Do not ask for democracy. Do not ask for justice. Do not ask for freedom of speech. You relinquished these rights the very moment you stepped foot on this campus. Exeter is not a republic and we are not citizens. In fact, the only bond that exists between these entities is an economic one: we, the consumers, pay for the “Exonian Experience.” Undeniably, none of us deserve any kind of freedom at this school. Call it nihilism if you so desire, call it apathy, call it pessimism. I cannot sympathize with the anti-institutional sentiments of my peers, when they came to this school of their own accord. 

In truth, despite my vitriolic rhetoric, I am very much an optimist at heart. As comedian George Carlin once said, “Inside every cynical person, there is a disappointed idealist.” The “Exonian Republic” is not just a fallacy, but a gentle suggestion. The greatest gift of a republic is civic virtue; though this Phillips Exeter may only be an institution, the essence of this republican spirit, I believe, could do much good for this school. Civic virtue creates allegiance, a sense of duty and fosters pride within an individual. There was a time when a Roman citizen, in times of peril, could proudly proclaim, “Civis Romanus Sum,” or “I am a Roman citizen.” This statement was meant to symbolize the citizen’s confidence in the paternal embrace of his country and in the mighty legions that backed these words.

Exeter is an institution, not a republic, and it has taken full advantage of this distinction by not affording its students the many privileges that a citizen is privy to. Would it not be wise, though, for Hassan and his administration to occasionally uphold republican ideals? Would it not be noble for Exeter to be a parent to each and every one of its students and not a slave to its past and future? Perhaps, then, there will arise a generation of Exonians who could declare, “I am a student of Exeter” and encapsulate within that statement a certainty that their school cared for them, that they cared for their school and that they were, along with their peers, “one equal temper of heroic hearts.”