It’s Nice to be Mean
by DQuiles
In 1986, Huey Lewis and the News contended that it was “hip to be square.” They were wrong. But I have a similarly paradoxical maxim for the ‘00s: it’s nice to be mean. And I’m right.
Of course, I don’t think that the kind of “mean” that I’m talking about is actually mean. But I must be missing something, because it appears that conventional academic etiquette doesn’t see it that way. The discourtesy, the offense? The practice of critical response.
Why is there, in our classes here at the Graduate Center, such an unbelievable lack of critical engagement with each other’s work? My chosen field is Art History, but from what I’ve heard, it’s not so different anywhere else. It surely is not for lack of in-class presentations. Almost every seminar has them (in some cases they take up a third to a half of the course!), and, as we all know, there is always plenty of time for awkward silence after one of our colleague’s papers has been delivered. Sometimes the professor mercifully fills this silence with words of her or his own; on less fortunate occasions, the sodden query is offered: “So… any questions?” All too often, no one has anything to say.
When this happens, I always wonder if people were actually listening. Perhaps the presentation was so astonishingly terrible, or so intimidating, that all have been left speechless, like after the dance sequence that climaxes Napoleon Dynamite (and even there the silence was followed by near-unanimous applause!). But surely every paper cannot be so awe-inspiring via either pleasure or pain. Is it possible that the entire class simply doesn’t care? Maybe. If so, that is depressing, reprehensible, scandalous. It might not be in the Student Handbook, but it is our responsibility as academics, as human beings, to care about and try to aid our fellow students’ development. I’ll go with the more sympathetic possibility, and guess that we are all just too damn polite to try to offer critical remarks — but this too is folly.
I recently had the opportunity to experience intelligent, feisty criticism firsthand when I participated in the Whitney Independent Study Program (ISP). The program is structured so that a group of about 25 aspiring artists, curators and scholars gather frequently and, in addition to discussing critical texts and being lectured by guest speakers, share one another’s work, be it art, exhibition proposals, or texts. When I first began the program, I was shocked at how critical some of the responses were. At first it reminded me of a particularly vindictive creative writing class I had taken in college, in which competitiveness and insecurity seemed to fuel a constant exchange of vicious and unconstructive responses. But I quickly realized that this was different — no one was trying to cut anyone else down. People were genuinely trying to give each other strong critical feedback, and the results were often remarkable. It took a lot of trust for this situation to fully flower, and naturally it wasn’t utopian; there were some rough spots. But for the most part, it was an inspiring and supportive environment. We were all genuinely committed to helping one another improve.
Thus my concern about our fond graduate program. I would like to believe that we all want one another to improve, and, indeed, understand that it helps all of us if any of us succeed. But instead I have witnessed a “niceness” that is meaner than it looks. Let’s say you see a friend walking down the street, oblivious to a manhole he’s about to step into — surely you would shout and warn him?! It’s the same if you’re there when a colleague gives a bad presentation. Say nothing, and you’re letting them take a fall. Politeness with an edge. Pointing out problems in a paper is the best service any of us can do for each other while we are graduate students. It’s as simple as that. I have been in so many GC classes in which people laughed and joked like they were the best of friends, yet when it came to the papers; nothing. It was not friendliness but nervousness that had yielded this deceptive small-talk; during presentations it was suddenly everyone for themself.
Naturally I am not advocating ripping people to shreds. But we all know, or at least should know, how to constructively critique. You don’t have to be cruel, but pointing out contradictions, omissions, vague points, is essential; it’s our responsibility. What is best to point out? Whatever really strikes you. It’s not a contest for the best comment. No one’s going to laugh if you don’t have the greatest suggestion of all time. But make sure to say something. A critical comment, however trivial, is a show of support for your colleague’s work. Silence is not polite, not nice; it’s totally obnoxious — representative of either indifference or ill will.
Of course, the respectful acceptance of criticism is an art as well. In the ISP, we (usually) smiled and took it as graciously as possible — thus acknowledging this interest and support, however harsh, in our work — whether we agreed or not. It was always best when passionate yet respectful debate ensued from such critical responses. This is what being fellow students is all about — open-minded discussion of one another’s work. We should be doing this on our own, without our professors to prompt us.
So next time, go ahead. Give it a try. Open your mouth. Be nice to your fellow student, and dish out some mean.
