Until I came to college I was socially and educationally engineered by my parents. Throughout high school, I was a pure automaton, directly programmed to take the maximum number of Advanced Placement and International Baccalaureate courses. My parents felt they had figured out the exact calculus for getting me into a top-tier college and then into a great medical school. Being totally apathetic to anything beyond my weekend curfew, even to my possible future career, I played along. I never questioned why I had to take certain courses and only did community service work at the hospital because my parents made me. Did I do these things because of an excessive trust in my parents? A concession to futility? Complete arrogance? Who knows?

My first semester of college was wasted worrying about grades and being homesick instead of experiencing Duke and Durham. I was complacent in my Duke bubble—in my mind anything beyond campus was an evil, no-entry zone where bad things took place. Sounds bad doesn’t it? Well welcome to the perception of most Duke students. Fortunately for me, my eyes were opened early on in spring 2007 when I took my first two classes in the Ethics Certificate Program.

The first course was Peter Euben’s Living an Ethical Life. Professor Euben’s class was a discussion seminar that challenged all of us to test the moral boundaries of our thinking. Drawing on a variety of authors, from Nietzche to Hannah Arendt, we explored how mundane, thoughtless actions—or even inactions—can be heavily laden with ethical behavior. These explorations provided us with an opportunity to be socially, economically, and politically critical of ourselves.

Through a particular class discussion on genocide and its prevalence even today, Professor Euben helped me become aware of my global surroundings. Having explored past and current atrocities on the highest scale, I was able put all of my miniscule grievances into perspective. Life could be so much worse.

It was Professor Euben’s discussion of Han- nah Arendt’s Eichmann in Jerusalem that shook me out of my complacency with the world. Eichmann was Hitler’s right-hand man during the Nazi regime. When he was put on trial after World War II, Eichmann claimed that he was just following orders and had done nothing wrong. His inability to put himself in the shoes of the executed, or his lack of “moral imagination” (a term I continue to attribute to Professor Euben even though he won’t take ownership of it) showed me how a complete ignorance or indifference to the “way things are” does not excuse inaction.

I realized that my own lack of moral imagination had prevented me from ever caring about anything or anyone beyond myself or my immediate circle of family and friends. Professor Euben had kindled my creative spirit, and I knew I wanted to do something. Now, how could I get involved in such a big project?

At the time, a fellow classmate was leading Duke’s chapter of Amnesty International. I decided to join. After helping out with a film festival, I knew that human rights work was my second calling. The graphic documentaries on human sex trafficking and torture aroused in me empathy for others that I had never previously experienced. I never knew I was capable of expressing so much emotion for other suffering human beings with whom I held no prior relationship. Ever since, I have been deeply involved in many of Amnesty’s campaigns, including Stop Torture, and I am currently leading the chapter on campus.

The second course was Rom Coles’ Left, Right, and Center. It explored the works of a number of philosophers from Burke to Locke, and really stretched our creative capacities to find the best mechanisms for an effective and inclusive local government. Professor Coles helped me become aware of my local surroundings in Durham. And he showed me that while debate and discussion are essential parts of a democracy, the most important component is engaged and reflective listening.

After a discussion on “receptivity,” Professor Coles extended invitations to the class to attend a monthly meeting of Durham CAN (Congre- gations, Associations, and Neighborhoods), a community organizing group and chapter of the Industrial Areas Foundation (IAF). Mildly curious, I decided to attend.

I had only read about the highly valued principles of democracy—free speech, civic engagement, “one person, one vote,” accountability, etc. To me, they meant nothing. I was certain that only the elites controlled the world, that power was only produced from money, and that in reality, the “one person, one vote” propaganda perpetuated inequality rather than equality. But as I observed the assembly, goose bumps ran down my body; I was experiencing democracy first hand.

Durham CAN was holding a pledge session with all the mayoral and city council candidates, requesting promises for possible future action in office in the presence of the media. I realized that money doesn’t beget power; people beget power. My pessimistic view of the world and complacent apathy was changing, and I wanted more. I approached Professor Coles to see how I could get involved:

“What would you like to do?” he asked ecstatically.
“I want to help people out.”
He sighed, “Don’t you think that’s a little arrogant—to think that you are so above someone that you need to help them, that they need your help? Community organizing is not about handouts or temporary help-outs. You help others help themselves.”

My jaw dropped because he was absolutely right. What appalled me even more was how much I abhorred pretentious people and here I was exhibiting the same behavior. Ever since that conversation, I have been active in Durham CAN and have taken up the position of junior community organizer.

One important tool I have gained from my experience with Durham CAN is the “relational meeting.” A relational meeting consists of a one-on-one, face-to-face conversation where you engage the other person in a deep discussion on self-interest: What passion or motivation drives the other person in doing what he or she does? I’ve learned that relational meetings can develop powerful connections between people regardless of their political and economic positions if you simply listen and reflect—what Professor Coles calls receptivity.

After that semester, my new idealistic mindset served me well for quite some time. I was putting everything in perspective and having the time of my life organizing in Durham and fighting for basic human rights. Everything was going smoothly until Gerald Taylor, the Southeast IAF Director, paid Durham CAN a visit and challenged me with a mock scenario in which he played the mayor and I played the community organizer:

“I have allocated $100,000 to distribute in any way to the county. The Latino community badly needs a public servant post whose job is to educate the community about immigrant rights— a projected $55,000 cost. The African American community wishes to improve the bus system— a projected $40,000 cost. The Caucasian community wishes for more police officers— a projected $70,000 cost. What do you do?”

As the community organizer (and still very much the typical idealist), I requested additional funds to be able to satisfy everyone’s needs. The “mayor” rejected the proposal, and infuriated, decided to send all the money towards the production of a new football stadium. Instead of having someone benefit, everyone lost.

This lesson of balancing pragmatism with idealism became even more evident in Suzanne Shanahan’s Organizations in Crisis seminar, the capstone course for the Ethics Certificate Program. We were presented with example after example of idealistic individuals wishing to reform their organizations when nothing was broken in the first place, not only exacerbating a crisis but also losing their jobs in the process. I realized that sometimes it is important to learn to work with what you have and play within the system’s rules. Sometimes consistently taking up the role of the white knight will kill your energy and passion and destroy your endeavors.

The Ethics Certificate Program has created so many opportunities for me—including a community organizing internship this summer in Dublin, Ireland, with Professor Shanahan—and it has connected me with wonderful departments and people, such as my political science theory major advisor, Ruth Grant. (That’s right, I’m pre-law, not pre-med.)

As my junior year comes to an end, I can really see how I’ve matured throughout my time at Duke and as part of the Ethics Certificate Program. The program has challenged and developed my core beliefs, both in the classroom and at related events and discussions. I’ve gone from being a totally apathetic automaton, to an overly idealistic white knight, to a pragmatic and balanced leader. For the moment, I’m happy where I am.

— Poorav K. Rohatgi, ‘10