I have been following the developments in the Williams Free Press with great interest for some time. The latest issue (January 22, 1996), however, finally motivated me to set forth some ideas in print. The most suggestive item in that issue was the cover story, "This We Believe," an attempt to lay out the WFP's ideological core in an explicit manner. What is odd in the editorial approach of the WFP is the constant tinge of the very identity politics that the paper claims to oppose. This is particularly evident in light of the neo-conservative manifesto presented in the most recent issue. To see why this is so, we have to examine the premises underlying the politics of identity.

Identity politics is, in general, the organization of a political group around a particular personal identity that is not accepted as "normal." Hence the gay rights movement, men's movements, and a host of others. The most fundamental grounding premise of identity politics is the general notion that an individual's experience is the supreme criterion of truth or validity. This is plainly seen in the many instances in which someone will say "As a member of group x, I feel y." Most commonly, the "I feel y" statement is designed to foreclose any possibility of argument. It must be simply accepted by the listeners, with the twofold understanding that the member of group x is not only entitled to speak for that group, but that he is in full possession of all information -- and therefore the truth -- about his own experience.

The supremacy of experience as truth-determinant is not by itself sufficient to found a politics of identity. One needs another lever or philosophical tool by which to move from a group's collective experience to an argument condemning the oppression of that group. Generally, this additional lever is a relativistic premise, appearing under the form of the assertion that the values or opinions of a particular group cannot be judged to be superior (or inferior) to another group. Put differently, the relativistic argument posits that there is no criterion of truth that is valid between groups.

The contradiction at the roots of identity politics should by now be fairly apparent. The first premise asserts a fundamental criterion of judgment -- the individual's experience and his position as a representative of a group -- while the second premise asserts the lack of such a criterion. A dilemma rears its ugly head at this point: I can accept the first premise, in which case I renounce the possibility of understanding anyone else, much less critiquing their behavior. If I accept the second premise, the claim of an individual to having sole epistemic access to his own experience (and that of his group) is thereby nullified, because, when taken to the limit, the relativistic argument forecloses the possibility of individual truth-claims. The usual way around this contradiction, when it becomes a hindrance to an argument, is to reduce the emphasis upon the relativistic portion of the premises, thereby elevating personal experience.

The portrayal of identity politics just set forth is something of a caricature. Contrary to the continual assertions of the WFP and other conservative organs, radical relativism is a fairly rare creature. Even though the arguments are seldom as extreme as those presented above, the politics of identity suffers from a woeful deficit of consistent philosophical groundings. This is a result of the unexamined acceptance of slack quasi-empiricism and a fuzzy version of moral relativism.

The poverty of principled groundings seen in identity politics has another effect, one that is perhaps even more pernicious and irritating than the philosophical aporiae: boredom. The constant expression of the particular and unique facets of a group identity, coupled with the basic premise that individuals are the final arbiters of the truth of their own experience, grows quite dull very quickly. There are numerous examples available on this campus, but two suggest themselves to me: the chalkings and the anti-WFP posters that have appeared recently. The BGLU/QSA chalkings, far from being offensive or annoying, for the most part do not seek to start a dialogue or enumerate basic principles. Various cut-and-paste hack posters have appeared, sliced from the WFP, accomplishing much the same thing: a tired, reactive liberalism that does not seek to justify itself by any principles whatsoever. Moreover, assertions of group identity do not, contrary to the usual claim, increase others' understanding of that group; they merely serve to make a hodgepodge of individual experiences and opinions more visible. In this increase of visibility, there is no attempt whatsoever to synthesize the experiences into a coherent statement of what should be done. The lack of synthesis demonstrates a generally anti-intellectual, poorly considered political approach. These examples do not convince me that Williams College is sinking into a quagmire of softheadedness and politics by aphorism; they merely bore me.

The WFP board would, in all likelihood, agree with most of what I have written above. However, they would probably take issue with the application of the same arguments to their own publication. This is precisely what I wish to do.

The tone of the WFP, more than any particular example, should suggest that the paper is engaged in identity politics. It would seem from a reasonably close examination that the WFP believes conservatives to be an oppressed group (at least on the Williams campus, and perhaps beyond). The diction is often defensive, with rhetorical flourishes characteristic of speeches and writings made by oppressed individuals. Frequently, assertions are made to the effect that conservatives are the only group on campus who dare to use their intellect in a rigorous and stringent manner. Moreover, there are direct intimations that conservative ideas are not to be tolerated on campus: "Those ... who agree with us will no doubt prefer to keep silent in the interests of self-preservation." (WFP, Jan. 22, p. 6).

The January 22nd article, "A Sickness of Spirit" (p. 5) is also instructive. The article purports to be a letter to the editor from Darth Vader, containing individualized critiques of letters written from various representatives of the BGLU, WFA, and other groups of a more liberal orientation than the WFP. The insightful commentary provided by Mr. Vader used trenchant rhetorical devices such as "addlepated fringe element of the professoriate," "Prince of the Goo-Goos," "loosey-goosey," and "brainwashed zombies" to describe the opposition. He notes the terminal dullness of his opponents, who were, in their letters, expressing a fairly clear example of the politics of identity as it is practice on campus. He concludes his opus by citing the maxim, "If you have nothing interesting or pleasant to say, say nothing at all."

The stupefyingly immature tactic of the Vader letter should strike anyone who has read the piece. What is more disturbing is the fact that, on the very next page, the WFP lauds the "rational and dispassionate search for truth" in their enumeration of beliefs. What's more, this emphasis upon "faith in reason and knowledge" is the first item they list among their core convictions. The lapse into personal attacks appears as a last-ditch effort to defend their principles in the face of "oppression." With the adoption of this defensive strategy, the WFP demonstrates that it subscribes in part to the basic thesis at the core of identity politics: that an individual is in sole possession of the criterion of truth based on his or her experiences. The premise lurks in an inverted way in the WFP's tactics, inasmuch as it manifests a direct attack on the personal character of those who question the validity of the conservative viewpoint, and by extension, the individual experience of conservatives.

One may ask why I have bothered to write this rather long essay focusing upon a fairly worthless political strategy. My intent is to show the ways in which a common political approach -- that of the politics of identity -- has made its way into the heart of even the most staunchly conservative, those who would presumably oppose the basic assumptions present therein. Further, by illustrating the intellectual poverty and philosophically languid nature of identity politics, I wish to advocate (by opposition) a political orientation that can more adequately account for the possibility of understanding another person or group. This, I hope, will eventually lead to a politics of consensus and open debate, rather than the politics grounded in the egoistic conviction that I, and whatever particular group I may belong to, have the final word on truth.