In the wake of the tragic Colorado shootings two weeks ago, the mini-industry of TV pundits and editorial page prognosticators that came to fame in the Era of Monica have resurfaced--tanned, rested and ready to dispense supposedly penetrating analysis at a moment's notice. The cast of opinionated characters has changed a bit--fewer former federal prosecutors, more child psychologists--but the goal is still the same: to take the few known facts of the case and fill air time and op-ed space by speculating, ruminating and suggesting reasons for the tragedy.

With each new tidbit learned in the days after the shooting, the opportunistic pundits have played their hands to maximum advantage, trying to offer the most insightful explanation for the events in Colorado. When it was revealed that the killers listened to the music of Marilyn Manson and played the game Doom, the pundits argued that Goth rock music and graphic video games ought to be restricted because they insight violence. Psychologists have taken to the airwaves to talk about the effect of TV violence on youth.

Even President Clinton has gotten into the act, proposing new general restrictions on fertilizer purchases, after it was learned that the killers made homemade pipe bombs. Never mind the plentiful cases where Marilyn Manson, Doom and fertilizer have not been accessories to violence; generalizations and extrapolations from the particular circumstances in Littleton have become the order of the day.

Admittedly, this column only adds to the stream of post-Littleton opinion pieces, but my purpose here isn't to try to explain the events but rather to encourage us to examine the instincts that may draw us to these pundits. The sort of knee-jerk analysis practiced in the past two weeks simultaneously gratifies and disturbs many of us. On the one hand, many of us have a powerful instinct to both seek and supply grand, sweeping and satisfying answers in the wake of tragedy. Immediately following a dramatic national or local event, at the time of greatest emotional distress and concern, some feel powerless. Theorizing is a source of comfort.

On the other hand, many tire of the twenty-four-hour analysis that dominates CNN, MSNBC, Fox News Channel and talk radio. We sometimes complain about the constant punditry, but sometimes we also take great solace in it, parroting the supposed wisdom of commentators to friends and family.

Perhaps instead of turning to Geraldo Rivera when tragedy strikes, we might consider turning to a Frenchman whose keen insights into America upon his visit in the mid-1800s still resonate today. Alexis de Tocqueville, in Volume Two of Democracy in America, writes of the exact instinct which stirs our love of instant explanation. Americans, he wrote, have "an unrestrained passion for generalizations," which is rooted in our democratic instincts. Believing that all humans are fundamentally alike, the democrat has "an ardent and often blind passion of the human spirit to discover common rules for everything" and seeks "to explain a group of facts by one sole cause."

This is not to say that all generalities are bad, of course. Tocqueville made a critical distinction between the kind of generalization and rule-making that "results from the slow, detailed and conscientious labor of the mind" and the more pernicious kind used by the Littleton pundits, that "springs up at once from the first quick exercise of the wits and begets only very superficial and uncertain notions."

Think of this distinction in terms of the dividing line between academia and much of the the media. Top academics can labor for years to produce narrow, precise insights into literature, science or the human soul, while many in the media eagerly seek to identify supposed trends as quickly as possible. When the number of racial minorities admitted to the class of 2003 dipped only slightly, the Crimson was quick to proclaim "declining diversity." When a smattering of anti-sweatshop rallies took place on a few campuses this spring, the New York Times was eager to herald a vast revival of liberal activism on campus.

The truth may be more nuanced than many media interpretations suggest, but the public's thirst for immediate analysis and trend identification sometimes prevents it from waiting for pointy-headed academics to reveal their more carefully researched findings.

We might ask ourselves if we, too, are guilty of making the hasty and vulgar variety of generalizations that are the pundits' bread and butter. Are we sometimes so eager, for example, to complete an essay as quickly as possible that we engage in merely superficial analysis? We appreciate insights, for sure, but do we always care to devote our own time and efforts to develop them on our own, especially when hurried, overly broad generalities will suffice?

We know that the most persuasive arguments--the good sort of generalizations--come from prolonged and careful labor. Yet our democratic instincts, Tocqueville reminds us, lead us astray: "Life is so practical, complicated, agitated and active that [Americans] have little time for thinking. So democratic man likes generalizations because they save him the trouble of studying particular cases."

We must choose whether we treasure our leisure so much that we will rest content with hasty half-truths. When it comes to making only the right sort of generalizations, it is up to us whether to behave more like academics or TV pundits.

Adam R. Kovacevich '99 is a government concnetrator in Quincy House. His column will resume during reading period.