Last week’s Sun news article “Libe Café Employees Protest Uniform Policy” explored the widespread opposition of Libe’s employees to Cornell Dining’s policy of wearing hats while serving. Their dissent was understandable. However, what struck me about the article were the statements made by a number of “regular customers.” They noted that the hats looked “silly” and made Libe “look like a dining hall”; to that end, one employee was told she “looked like a lunch lady.” Some workers therefore felt that the policy “hurts relationships with their customers.”

One wonders how these “regulars” conceptualize “actual” Cornell dining employees. Why would it be so terrible that Libe employees dress like “actual” Cornell dining staff, most of whom are our fellow classmates? Do they — the students who serve and clean up after us, often as work study employees — also look “silly”?

A worker at Libe went even further, distinguishing between “students” and “Cornell dining staff students”: “we don’t need to put up a wall that says ‘I’m part of Cornell Dining rather than the kid in your Comm. Class.’” Apparently, “parts of Cornell Dining” cannot be kids in your Comm. Class.

If we wish to judge these students favorably, we can say that they would reject these “interpretations.” It is clear, however, that they did not consider the implications of their statements. That they did not do so is surprising, given they were contributing to paper with a daily readership of around 15,000.

Perhaps a more direct instance of unawareness occurred in my Freshman Writing Seminar. After we had watched a documentary depicting the hardships of poverty in America, our TA asked us to discuss our experience with the destitute in our own communities. After a few of us had spoken, one student, in a decidedly unserious tone, stated that “there aren’t any poor people where I live.” Afterwards, a few students laughed.

It is unlikely that anyone lives in an area without any poor people within a 10-mile radius. Even given that unlikely probability, it is highly likely that such a community would maintain close contact with the poor: Who else would mow their lawns, walk their children and cook their dinners? To this student, however, these people did not “exist.”

This student’s statement, furthermore, reflected a complete lack of empathy for his peers. Indeed, there were a number of questions he should have asked himself before making such an absurd remark, including: How many of the students in that classroom are on financial aid or scholarship? How many must work for the University in order to attend? How many are “poor”?

As these examples show, empathy requires much work; therefore, it is unreasonable to expect it from everyone. For those who wish to develop this sensibility, however, how can they do so?

The answer, I believe, lies partially in the liberal arts. By reading primary texts in both the humanities and the sciences, we become exposed to the methods employed by various thinkers to make sense of the world. In doing so, we can become not only more attuned to others’ values, but also better able to develop our own complex approaches.

Therefore, if the liberal arts university truly wishes to create a community of engaged students, it must re-emphasize the importance of empathetic learning. To do so during “Reimagining” will be challenging, but not undoable. Take, for example, the Arts and Sciences Task Force’s recommendation to create a “series of popular, well-taught larger courses.” Why not then offer a sequence of intensive survey classes? A course on science could begin with Aristotle’s History of Animals and conclude with Einstein’s papers on relativity. A philosophy course could begin with Plato and end with Foucault. A literature course could begin with the Bible and conclude with Toni Morrison.

These courses would be different from typical survey courses in that they would be taught at the 300 or 400 levels. In order to take these thinkers and writers seriously, students would read about one book (or its equivalent) every week and be required to write weekly reader responses to be graded by a T.A.

If we are trained to think with the thinkers of the past, it is not unreasonable to believe this will translate into our thinking with our fellow peers. By taking these thinkers seriously, we will be better suited to take our peers seriously.

A liberal arts education is expected to foster this engagement. We must therefore call upon the Arts and Sciences Task Force — and the top decision makers — to ensure such.

Judah Bellin is a sophomore in the College of Arts and Sciences. He may be reached at

judahbellin@cornellsun.com. For Whom the Bellin Tolls appears alternate Mondays this semester.