Nestled in the heart of Old Town, I began my orientation at NYU Prague by watching a film on the quickly fading memory of communism in Czech society. The film examines how youth are uninterested in the past and the old have no desire to share their experiences. There was someone on hand for a Q&A afterwards. Who that person was now escapes me, as do many of the details of the film and the substance of a certain question that caused a stir among the students in the room. I asked that question, and though I have little recollection of what it regarded, I do remember its nature: it was a probing question that put something or another into question. Shortly after we moved to lunch, I was approached by a few students informing how inappropriate it was to be critical, even constructively so, given that we were guests in the Czech Republic. Though it was a small occurrence, being told not to think critically of my surroundings struck me as odd then. It still strikes me as odd.
We at NYU Abu Dhabi are less likely to be fearful of criticizing. I myself am infamous for such. But there are still limits to our criticism. We have few qualms about examining the UAE from within our safe walls — inside the comfortable realm protected by the nonspecific but graciously broad promise of academic freedom. But those critiques are generally quiet in nature and often veiled by looking at similar problems in neighboring nations. What comes out of this institution has been far more measured though. Whether it be about ourselves or our generous hosts, we are quite the reserved bunch as to what is published.
I cannot help but wonder if this was truly the intention of this institution though. Almost four years ago, an important step toward the dream of Sheikh Mohammed bin Zayed Al Nahyan, the Crown Prince of Abu Dhabi was realized when NYUAD admitted its first class. The Crown Prince’s vision was for a highly selective liberal arts institution to be started in the UAE – and NYU was the answer for that vision. Let’s take a step back and fully consider this arrangement and its implications.
NYU is one of the most liberal academic institutions in the United States. Its student body is known for being a critical bunch and no stranger to controversy (remember the
occupation of Kimmel several years ago?). The UAE government asked this institution to create a liberal arts college — a form of education designed to foster critical students and create the progenitors of social change. Finally, this new college was to admit only the best, brightest global leaders — the people who would, as part of a great pretense, change the world one day. NYUAD, simply put, was designed to produce agents of change.
I am not arguing that the UAE government began this university with the thought that it was creating an entity to subvert its power. The tools meant to repress sedition are still in place and show little signs of moving. And NYUAD is not given special rights beyond these (e.g., we are equally as forbidden from protesting as is any other party). But it strikes me as foolish to think that an institution such as NYUAD would be created without the recognition that its progeny will criticize that which ebbs and flows all about them.
To think that NYUAD was meant to be a quiet, inwardly thoughtful entity demeans the intelligence and foresight of the Sheikh and his advisers.
I, for one, believe that the people who helped establish this institution from the UAE government are intelligent and recognized that part of the package deal that was NYUAD was endogenous criticism of itself as an institution and the country in which it resides. This is not to say that we are to be senseless and graceless, but that there is room for polite, thoughtful and constructive critical thought of our environment. This is not a call to arms, nor to be unnecessarily critical. Instead, it is intended to cause us to be more willing to be public and forthright with our concerns and thoughts. To shy away from this is to deny the very nature of our being and to repress that which we have been trained to do.
When I was in Prague, I dialed the criticism down. I was silent on issues of Roma integration and appropriate remembrance of recent history. I was quiet and did my job as was prescribed by my fellow students. I went to class, learned, absorbed. But I never gave back substantively in the form of thoughtful critique. If we don’t use what a place teaches us for its good, if we seek to be purely extractive in the realm of thought and learning, then what good is there in being a global citizen? Do we violate the great gift of being here by speaking out? Or does real ingratitude take the form of not applying what we have learned here to help better the society that has given us so much?
Correction: Due to an editing error, a previous version of the article included an unnecessary repetition.
Stephen Underwood is a contributing writer. Email him at editorial@thegazelle.org.