Colleges and Professionalism

The third objection to the Oxford system is the lack of "professionalism" in academic work. Oxford don J. R. Sargent said some time ago to the Political Economy Club: "The idea that one man should be responsible for almost the total range of instruction of his pupils seems ludicrous to many Americans, though they are usually kind enough to cloak their incredulity with admiration."

Sargent's suggestion is to group students and dons of a given field of study in the same college, in which they are then better able to specialize. This decision by faculty is already in effect at most of the "Redbrick" British universities, and at many American ones.

As it stands now at Oxford, the faculties and departments play a role which is secondary to that of the colleges, which each contain an approximate cross section of students and dons, as do the Houses at Harvard. The colleges at Oxford were established for 600 years before departments were thought of, and today the Master of a college is still a considerably more imposing figure than the chairman of a department. Admitting students is still a college function though steps are being taken, ever so slowly, toward centralizing applications.

The Master of an Oxford college has more authority than his Harvard or Yale counterpart. For one thing, he has been elected by the dons of the college. He has more power, and work, since he has a considerable say in the government of the whole University. The Oxford Vice-Chancellor roughly corresponds to the Harvard President, but his position is taken in turns by the college heads. The Chancellor, currently Harold Macmillian, is a figurehead.

Oxford is not ashamed to profess amateurism, which is rigorous in its emphasis on independence and clarity of thought. The belief is that once a man has, through study of the basic work in a given discipline, achieved a clear idea of what his capabilities are, he is ready for any kind of work, from the civil service to motor car manufacturing.

British visitors to the United States are impressed by the degree of "professionalism" that has overtaken the American academic world. They come back advocating such professionalism in their faculties, for professors and graduate students--but not for undergraduates.

America's answer to the threat of too much professionalism at the undergraduate level has been to break up the specialties and give the student a bit of each. This solution is not generally admired in Britain. The everage British don associates the elective, cafeteria style, reminiscent of the four-troughed circular platters one must carry around at Harvard, and contrasts this with an honest meal of roast meat and Yorkshire pudding.

Best Thing About Britain

There are some in Britain who argue that "professionalism" should actually be avoided. Ely Devons, a professor at the London School of Economics, said on the BBC Third Program: "I am worried that the value of academic leisure is being overlooked...In throwing out the baby of reaction and conservatism in our universities, let us not throw out the bath-water of a thousand years of British academic tradition."

The subject of the thousand-year-old bath water leads us finally to the social aspects of Oxford. Our Princeton writer had to admit sadly, that (whatever he might say) "Americans will continue to attend Oxford." Why? "To live and travel in Europe, to acquire prestige and social acumen, to work in a leisurely atmosphere." This position may be called the "Best Thing about England is Paris" view.

Many of Oxford's social activities, however, come properly under the heading of education, particularly political education (the most satisfied Americans at Oxford are the ones who have come to study politics). If this is considered a glorification of gossip, what is the difference between bright chatter in a preceptorial and bright chatter in the Junior Common Rooms, the clubs, the dining rooms and cafeterias?

The main question is what people talk about, and how they approach their subject. Oxford undergraduates are several years younger than the average American who comes with a degree, but they are serious and excellent at impromptu debate. Certainly there is less of the anti-intellectual Fraternity Spirit (drinking, off-color songs, and pack forays for women) that characterizes an appalling proportion of the American university population.

In Oxford clubs the social function, though present, is a subordinate one. The Conservative Association, for example, with one eighth of Oxford's 8,800 undergraduates in its membership, is the very model of an active political party, complete with inner groupings known as the Carlton and Blue Ribbon Clubs--both junior versions of the London Carlton Club and Bow Group respectively, and both dedicated to the political education of their members. The famous Oxford Union, the famous Oxford Union, the closest thing at Oxford to the Hasty Pudding, is a model parties represented; a vote is taken after a four-hour debate every Thursday on a main motion and a number of smaller ones, while elections to party and Union take place three times a year.

In sum, for an American who is ready to take the initiative, the intellectual life at Oxford is still in many ways the most stimulating in the world. If he doesn't accomplish enough academically the fault lies with on one but himself.