“The world,” Albert Einstein once said, “is a dangerous place to live, not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don’t do anything about it.” This thought best sums up the lessons taught by political science lecturer Darren Zook, less one additional stipulation: that we, in fact, have the potential and responsibility to do something about it.
Through primary sources, engrossing lectures and the most open office on campus, Zook’s courses have created a welcoming academic forum that fosters both debate and a painful wait-list. His lessons elicit a connectedness among different cultures, emphasizing a more human ideal that transforms an exotic world into a simpler and strangely more familiar place. As alumnus Matthew Velasco fondly recalled, “It is ever apparent in (Zook’s) words and actions that he is one of few professors whose ultimate goal lies in the betterment of his students, a trait far too rare in an institution that boasts of producing future world leaders.”
But despite his obvious popularity and subsequent accolades, Zook’s courses have inexplicably been restricted by the political science department. When asked why, department chairman Pradeep Chhibber explained that “the decision was not personal, but based on yearly plans when classes are assigned based on the needs of the department.” He went on to clarify that, “these are tough decisions, and faculty members need to do what’s in the best interest of the department.”
Forgive me for being incredulous, but something doesn’t add up. It’s obvious that the perfunctory responses from the administration are sorely insubstantial in explaining the decision. But the issue becomes even more suspect when we consider that, in the wake of Zook’s restriction, no substitute has been assigned to teach courses he formerly taught. If the decision to ignore these courses was, in fact, deliberate, then the department is sending a bold statement: that classes on terrorism, international law and human rights are unnecessary. Surely in the post-Sept. 11 era, these courses, whose topics resonate daily in the modern media, are essential to a well-rounded political education from a “pre-eminent” university. A great disservice has been done to the students of this campus, and increasing the frustration is the lack of information as to why.
But UC Berkeley being UC Berkeley, student frustration ultimately begets grassroots movements. The “Save Zook” Facebook group, now with over 600 members, is a newly-formed student organization rallying support for the imperiled lecturer. Jovanna Rosen, co-creator of the group, explained: “While our Facebook group is titled ‘Save Zook’, it is not only directed at the injustice of Zook’s inability to teach these classes but also the fact that these classes are no longer being taught at all. We equate this to diminishing the broadness of the education of future Cal students, something which we consider unacceptable.”
Save Zook,” on the surface, seems to be the typical student movement. But what’s unusual about the group is the amount of alumni support it has rallied around a campus issue removed from graduates’ post-college lives. Just as Zook encouraged his students to speak out against injustice in Darfur and North Korea, present and former students have used his lessons to take action against an injustice occurring right in front of them.
Every class I have taken with Zook has ended the same way—the crowd rising in unison and erupting in applause, an admittedly inadequate demonstration of our true gratitude. As a recent graduate, the decision to restrict Zook’s courses had no direct influence on my life. But when I first saw the Save Zook shirts, with their Bueller-esque appeal, I couldn’t help but remember Zook’s absorbing stories, allusions to Red Bull and, most importantly, strong encouragement that sustains me to this day. In light of this, I cannot help but heed Einstein’s words and stand in solidarity with my fellow students. At this point I cannot tell you what steps will be taken next or how this issue will be resolved. But I am confident that this gesture is a more appropriate token of our gratefulness, for it compliments a dedicated educator with the greatest gift a teacher can receive—the demonstration that their lessons were truly understood and appreciated by the eager minds of the future.
(This is my weekly column that appeared in the Daily Californian. You can also read it here)
