To my left, clouds of red smoke and green spray paint engulfed a statue of General Marquis de Lafayette. To my right, a chant filled the chaotic air: 

“From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free!” 

Directly in front of me was the White House and in my hand was an invitation to join the Revolutionary Communist Progressive Labor Party. 

On June 8, hundreds of pro-Palestinian protestors flooded Lafyette Square in Washington, D.C, demanding an end to the conflict in Gaza. A “red line” of humans stretching two miles long surrounded the White House. 

That afternoon, I gained a renewed thankfulness to study at a college that does not encourage its students to “change the world,” like the protestors around me were trying to do.

Shortly after I arrived at Lafayette Square, a young woman wearing a bandanna that covered most of her face approached, handed me a piece of paper, and moved on. I looked down at an invitation to “Smash imperialism, racism and sexism with Communist red line.” An insignia in the top left corner of the flier said “Fight for Communism!” The bottom of the page displayed a QR code where one could sign up to join the Communist Progressive Labor Party. 

I declined all three opportunities. 

Though I didn’t get to speak with her, the young woman distributing the fliers appeared close to my age. She was likely a student at a university in Washington, D.C. who had fulfilled the stereotypical nightmare of every American grandparent — going to college and turning into a communist.  

Whether or not this is the life story of the communist flier girl in Lafayette Square, it is the story of many in our generation. Whether they are communists, socialists, leftists, or just plain hedonists, many of our future colleagues and neighbors are presently spending four years of their lives in preparation to radically change the world. 

Meanwhile, 1,500 of us chose to study old books, old ideas, and old languages in rural southern Michigan for four years.

We are discouraged from “changing the world” and instead challenged to understand it. 

While our counterparts at other universities walk out of class, pitch tent cities, and disrupt graduation, we have pledged ourselves to diligent study and patient reflection. 

No doubt, the walls of Saga have certainly heard much political scheming, and many of us spend our summers deeply involved in politics, journalism, and advocacy. Yet has anyone ever heard of a protest on campus? 

Sure, the showers in Galloway Residence are unreasonably cold and the coffee in Saga tastes odd sometimes, but we don’t form a picket line. We’re too nerdy for that. We write opinion pieces instead. 

Nevertheless, this Hillsdale culture shouldn’t give us a “holier than thou” mindset.

Reject the siren’s song of pride and embrace true gratitude. 

We are privileged to spend our waking hours reading Shakespeare and Milton, singing Irish songs late into the night, and rehashing the Protestant Reformation as if it were November 1517. 

Hillsdale is a genuinely peaceful place in spite of whatever chaos rages in the outside world. Just as the peaceful nature of our college years is not a cause for pride, it ought not be a source of restlessness either. 

We all want to change the world. It’s part of being young. 

Many of us will, indeed, leave a mark. 

I am confident that we will look back long after we have turned our tassels and realize that we walked to class with prominent lawyers, conjured up pranks alongside award-winning academics, and drove to Dutch Uncle Donuts at midnight with Fortune 500 executives. 

More importantly, though, the people we so desperately hope to crush at Mock Rock will go on to be faithful husbands, caring wives, loving parents, and responsible citizens — all of whom will change the world through small acts of courage and love. 

If we think of the Communist flier girl in Lafayette Square at all, our thoughts ought to be of sadness that her college years are burdened by the need to change the world in some grand way. She — and thousands of others in our generation — will never know the happy buzz of Hillsdalian friendship that fills the crisp October air when we all pour out of Lane and Kendall after our 10 a.m. classes on a Friday morning. 

 

Bradley Haley is a sophomore studying the liberal arts.