The Department of Classics at Princeton has decided to cut language requirements for majors. This raises two questions, I think: First, what is the value of the classics for students in our time? And, second, if the classics do have value for our students, to what extent does that value depend on their having knowledge of the languages?
I teach courses on leadership for mid-career executives in an MA program we offer. I begin each course with a reading and discussion of the opening scene of the Iliad, in which Agamemnon acts out almost all the traits of a bad boss. Most strikingly, he puts his interests ahead of those of his team, with consequences that could have been ruinous for the team mission. Most of my students have faced bosses with such defects, but they have been too close to their particular situations to identify what it is about bad bosses that makes them so bad. And we have all recently experienced a president who puts his interests ahead of those of the nation. But the scene in the Iliad is so stark, so clear, so far removed from our politics, that we can see the issues clearly. It’s a great way to begin, and my students thank me for it. This is just one example of how effectively the classics may be used in leadership education. I have written a book on the subject: reading fine works of history and literature from any culture is (I argue) an essential part of education (notice I do not use the word “training”) for future leaders. Parents who want their students to advance in life are mistaken if they think that the STEM disciplines suffice to prepare young people for success. They are not. We need to get the word out that the humanities offer keys that our students may use to unlock happy futures.
I also teach year-long courses in world literature for first year students in an honors program. I devote the first semester to the literature of war. We begin with the Iliad and end with the most recent novel I can find that deals with the aftermath of war. Last year I used On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong. In between we ranged widely—some obvious Shakespeare plays and something much less obvious, the national epic of Vietnam, The Tale of Khieu, by Nguyen Do. At the end of the year, at a pizza party, the students started talking about the books they had enjoyed the most. The Iliad was at the top, tied with Vuong’s delicious and disturbing novel. Why? Simply, the Iliad tells its tale brilliantly, and it is a wonderful tale, in which the bloody, dehumanizing trauma of war is balanced by Achilles’ very human love for Patroclus and then, at the end, by his appreciating father-love in Priam as, he knows it from his own father. It helps, of course, that I used an accessible translation (Lombardo’s), book-ended the Iliad with an absolutely contemporary work, and balanced it with works from other cultures. And that’s a great way to use the classics.
That’s enough to give you the idea: my students find value in the classics. Do they need to know Latin and Greek for this? Certainly not. But someone needs to know the languages in order to produce accessible, contemporary translations. And this need continues into the future. So we need at least a few language scholars. That said, for the reasons I have given above, I hope we do offer majors in classics that can attract larger numbers of students. So, yes, I am happy to welcome majors in classical or Mediterranean civilizations that are not hedged around with tough language requirements.
Paul Woodruff is Professor of Philosophy and of Classics at the University of Texas at Austin.
I teach courses on leadership for mid-career executives in an MA program we offer. I begin each course with a reading and discussion of the opening scene of the Iliad, in which Agamemnon acts out almost all the traits of a bad boss. Most strikingly, he puts his interests ahead of those of his team, with consequences that could have been ruinous for the team mission. Most of my students have faced bosses with such defects, but they have been too close to their particular situations to identify what it is about bad bosses that makes them so bad. And we have all recently experienced a president who puts his interests ahead of those of the nation. But the scene in the Iliad is so stark, so clear, so far removed from our politics, that we can see the issues clearly. It’s a great way to begin, and my students thank me for it. This is just one example of how effectively the classics may be used in leadership education. I have written a book on the subject: reading fine works of history and literature from any culture is (I argue) an essential part of education (notice I do not use the word “training”) for future leaders. Parents who want their students to advance in life are mistaken if they think that the STEM disciplines suffice to prepare young people for success. They are not. We need to get the word out that the humanities offer keys that our students may use to unlock happy futures.
I also teach year-long courses in world literature for first year students in an honors program. I devote the first semester to the literature of war. We begin with the Iliad and end with the most recent novel I can find that deals with the aftermath of war. Last year I used On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong. In between we ranged widely—some obvious Shakespeare plays and something much less obvious, the national epic of Vietnam, The Tale of Khieu, by Nguyen Do. At the end of the year, at a pizza party, the students started talking about the books they had enjoyed the most. The Iliad was at the top, tied with Vuong’s delicious and disturbing novel. Why? Simply, the Iliad tells its tale brilliantly, and it is a wonderful tale, in which the bloody, dehumanizing trauma of war is balanced by Achilles’ very human love for Patroclus and then, at the end, by his appreciating father-love in Priam as, he knows it from his own father. It helps, of course, that I used an accessible translation (Lombardo’s), book-ended the Iliad with an absolutely contemporary work, and balanced it with works from other cultures. And that’s a great way to use the classics.
That’s enough to give you the idea: my students find value in the classics. Do they need to know Latin and Greek for this? Certainly not. But someone needs to know the languages in order to produce accessible, contemporary translations. And this need continues into the future. So we need at least a few language scholars. That said, for the reasons I have given above, I hope we do offer majors in classics that can attract larger numbers of students. So, yes, I am happy to welcome majors in classical or Mediterranean civilizations that are not hedged around with tough language requirements.
Paul Woodruff is Professor of Philosophy and of Classics at the University of Texas at Austin.