Before I was a Notre Dame undergraduate, I was a typical high school student. I took my classes seriously and excelled in them, though I seldom viewed them as being particularly useful.
When I entered the University of Dayton, I was concerned with jumping through the hoops and fulfilling my general curricular requirements.. By the time I transferred to Notre Dame in the College of Arts and Letters, my studies seemed more of a chore than an education. That attitude, imaginably shared by many students, dominated my freshman and sophomore years. That all came to change when I enrolled in a minor entitled “Philosophy in the Catholic Tradition,”, created and led by the recently retired Professor Alasdair MacIntyre. Though I was unaware of MacIntyre’s fame, I figured the program would be an interesting and solid addition to my resume.
Last year – my senior year at Notre Dame – I finally had the pleasure of having Professor MacIntyre for class. During the fall semester, we studied some of the highlights of the Catholic philosophical tradition in the course “God, Philosophy, and Universities,” collecting bits of MacIntyre’s own thought along the way. As a teacher, he was remarkable in a number of ways. He started class right on time and barely consulted his notes as he delivered coherent lectures, each of which fit into an overall argument that formed the structure of the course. He spoke with incredible clarity, was never distracted by tangents, and never minced words when a student offered an insufficient answer. I’ve never met such a quick wit.
For all of Professor MacIntyre’s talent, however, what inspired me the most is the message he communicated throughout the course: learn, always. When I met Alasdair MacIntyre, I realized how much I did not know and why I should know it. He taught us the history of university education, expounding its evolution and revealing the deficiencies in its present-day vision. MacIntyre is a strong proponent of a true liberal education, and throughout the course he wove our modern academic disciplines into their place in the overall unity of knowledge. The various disciplines bear on each other, offering their proper perspective on the order of things. It occurred to me that I really had wasted my time in all those university requirements – wasted my own time by not taking them more seriously and not daring to explore subjects beyond the safety of a high grade. MacIntyre is fond of quoting I.I. Rabi: “If you go through college without caring about your GPA, you can get quite a good education.”
As any Notre Dame professor will tell you, MacIntyre is a maverick in academia. He does not have a doctorate, and when once asked about it, he replied, “I don’t have a Ph.D. because I should be ashamed to have one.” MacIntyre believes a student should become proficient in all the major subjects of inquiry, to the level of being able to hold an intelligent conversation in each of them. The modern research university, however, tends toward increasing specialization. This push to specialize is even being directed toward undergraduate students, whom MacIntyre believes need a stronger foundation in a liberal curriculum. Without an understanding of how the different disciplines fit into the bigger picture, a specialist is susceptible to an academic myopia, seeing the world through the narrow lens of his own research. He misses the heart of the matter, the ever-present hand of Providence in all things. After all, the main project of teaching is to form the person, not merely to advance knowledge. “I won’t go so far as to say that you have a deformed mind if you have a Ph.D.,” says MacIntyre, “but you will have to work extra hard to remain educated.”
MacIntyre isn’t against graduate education and research, but he believes it has to be kept in proper perspective. He fits the mold of thinkers like John Henry Newman, whose work on The Idea of a University formed one of the major units in MacIntyre’s course. Unfortunately, modern academia is not conducive to this balanced scholarship. Aspiring professors often write theses for doctoral degrees in their late twenties, whenMacIntyre says he still had nothing original to say. Even with Notre Dame’s broad range of general requirements, students can check off whole academic disciplines as if they have passed out of them, often avoiding those they find difficult out of fear for poor grades. “If you know anyone who has a perfect grade point average, you know they have quite a disfigured mind,” says MacIntyre.
I wish I had met Alasdair MacIntyre before my senior year, because I know I would have gone about things differently. On the other hand, at least I can take a better approach in the future. What concerns me most is whether we’re losing sight of the principles MacIntyre stands for. I wonder if there will there ever be another Aristotle, or another Aquinas or Da Vinci? Can anyone else champion this vision with MacIntyre’s eloquence?
Notre Dame has a lot to offer its students academically – students only have four years, so they should take full advantage of the opportunities. If students get the chance, they should attend a lecture with Alasdair MacIntyre. At the very least, as another professor put it, “he can’t open his mouth and say a boring word.” God bless him in retirement.
Thanks to Professor MacIntyre’s recommendation letter, Lee is now in graduate school, but has no idea what to do next. Send suggestions to lmarsh2@alumni.nd.edu.
