An image of Alma Mater, viewed from below. Photo credit: Columbia University Photo Library
As I read through the CC syllabus in my sophomore year, I felt that I was riding along in a high-speed train, going too quickly to take in the scenery. The syllabus was so wide-ranging and fast-paced that I struggled to absorb it all. Adding the chaos of COVID to the already packed semester meant that the later authors were covered in only a class each. When it was time to read Hegel’s Introduction to the Philosophy of History, for example, we had a single class to cover it all. That’s one sub-two-hour session to explore the notoriously dense philosophy that continues to shape our discourse surrounding history to this day.
This breakneck pace can seem like a puzzling choice. Why did the creators of the CC syllabus choose to cover so much material in such a short amount of time, prioritizing breadth over depth? I, of course, can’t speak about their thought process with any certainty. However, I can say that I found an enormous amount of value in the wide-ranging nature of the course. In fact, it is precisely the broad knowledge that CC provides which I want to consider in this post, because this is the kind of knowledge that forms an excellent basis for research.
I am not talking about the knowledge itself (although that is certainly important), but rather the attitude that this kind of knowledge produces. When I read through the CC syllabus, I was really only sampling a vast tradition, which made me recognize my limitations. I was confronted with the borders of my own knowledge and abilities, and I grasped that my understanding was finite. These realizations were difficult at times, but they led to humility, the kind of humility which I’ve tried to carry over into my research.
While humility is not a word I previously associated with research, I realized that being consciously aware of my limits was essential to being a good researcher. Research questions may start off from a broad interest in an area of study, but gradually they must be honed down and limited to a very specific question. A single research project leads you to develop a deep but narrow knowledge about one very small topic. In this way, knowledge developed by research differs dramatically from knowledge gained through the Core. However, humility is required in both research and the Core. While reading the Core, you’re a new student of the texts, relying on the expertise of others when necessary. While researching, on the other hand, you rely on others to provide the breadth of knowledge that you lack. In other words, you have to be in conversation with others in your field, relying on their previous work and knowledge. In both situations, you have to accept that no one’s an expert at everything, and that total-self-sufficiency is not an option.
As a Classics major, for example, I am often in awe of the lengthy tradition of scholarship which precedes me. The discipline is old, and some of the greatest scholars of history have spent their whole lives contributing to our collective understanding of the field. Just like when I took CC, I am forced to acknowledge that I simply cannot know everything, and I certainly cannot expect to answer all the questions I have by myself. Instead, I must rely on the work that has come before me, using the expertise of others (while doing my own fact-checking, of course). Only then can I make my own contribution.
It is certainly possible to frame this need for humility in a negative light. After all, it can be annoying, if not frightening, to depend on others. However, I have found that there is a more positive framing to the issue. Humility in research is a wonderful gift because it brings scholars together. No one can expect to be a successful researcher without communication and inter-dependency. Building on the work of others is a necessary part of the research process. While we might want the glory of figuring everything out by ourselves, we instead have the joy of working with others, collaborating on interesting questions, and learning from the expertise of our peers. But, first, we must recognize the boundaries of our own knowledge. That recognition is precisely what the Core encourages, and that is one of the reasons why the Core is so valuable.