The Transom: No Spectacle in the Stacks

I conclude that universities nowadays, in presenting themselves to the public, are loath to make any mention of books. One need only consider the uses to which universities put the promotional spots provided by television networks broadcasting intercollegiate athletic contests to grasp the extent of current anti-book sentiment. I offer a composite, drawn from dozens of such 'college commercials' that aired during 2003:

The avuncular president of Fabulous State University emulates Little Jack Horner in a spiel (liberally sprinkled with words like 'excellence' and 'greatness') which originates from his oak-panelled office. His jowly image gives way to a montage of campus scenes - white-coated folk busy in a lab full of test tubes and beakers; a bearded math professor writing equations on a chalkboard; young and attractive students jogging, chatting, walking, and lounging on the greensward or near the entrance of impressive new classroom buildings or dorms - scenes wherein nobody is shown reading anything, least of all a book. The camera pans quickly across the front of a large, windowless, and unidentified structure that you know to be the Fabulous State University library, but only because you once visited the campus. You are also aware that Fabulous State is the parent institution of a first-rate, top-drawer, prize-winning, slam-bang scholarly press, and you are surprised not to hear it mentioned in company with the world-class art museum and the world-class natural history museum and the striking replica of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon to be found on the east quadrangle, thanks to the diligence of the avuncular president's landscape-conscious first lady. Indeed, the press is not mentioned at all. After sixty such jam-packed seconds, the slogan of the moment is uttered by the narrator or scrolled across the television screen, and that's it.¹

How curious.

These promotional spots remind me of the television ads emanating from various of the armed forces during times when enlistments are down. They are equally intentionally misleading. The military invites the young to participate in what is made to look awfully much like an elaborate video game. There is no suggestion of violent death resulting from that participation, and no restatement of William Tecumseh Sherman's assertion that war is hell. Such news could discourage enlistment. Similarly, the suggestion of required reading might discourage enrolment at Fabulous State or any of the other sixty or seventy universities with teams good enough to earn them air time on television. Both entities are peddling a product involving several years of commitment, and it has to be presented properly. Otherwise, the potential customers might take their business elsewhere - to some less demanding vendor.

Can't have that. College is a business.

And, of course, one must understand the nature of the television programming that brackets the university promotional spots. It has nothing to do with education. The term 'scholar-athlete' becomes an oxymoron nearly every time a mid-game graphic reveals not only an athlete's age, height, and weight but also his or her choice of academic majors. When twenty athletes on the same team are said to be working toward degrees in 'sports marketing management' or 'general university studies,' only a cloistered, myopic naïf could fail to understand what's going on: Fabulous State University is competing for some championship or other, and it has nothing to do with educating anybody. As for books, it is well to note that universities cannot sell tickets to the library: There is no spectacle in the stacks, no beer for sale, no roaring crowds.

For many years, I have believed that a reliable indication of the status of intellectual life at any university is the condition of the campus bookstore. What does it sell, besides textbooks? If the establishment contains more officially licensed sportswear and logo-bearing beer steins than bound volumes, then the mission of the university may be something other than the one...