The Ivory Tower: An Exploration of University-Community Relationships

Nicholas Robinson, Politics Major

I live next to a place called Felony Flats. Old men and women-even the young residents of Felony Flats are old-mumble to me from their decaying front porches as I hurry to the safety of my gated, professionally-guarded university apartment complex. Snug inside the climate-controlled luxury of our ivory palace, my friends and I joke about the "sketchy townies" and meth addicts outside the walls of our fortress. Crime, drug addiction, homelessness and violence are lamentable nuisances we suffer when we venture outside the bubble, but they are not our problems. We have other things to deal with. Some sneaky weasel has shoved the couch into the elevator again.

Willamette University is almost an independent country, carved into the sad face of its host city. Our student identification cards are passports we dutifully present at bus stations and restaurants, local border crossings. Occasionally, our country treats foreign dignitaries to a concert or a guest lecture, but our immigration policy is strict. Visas expire after a few hours and are only available to the surrounding city's wealthiest and best-educated citizens. A private, windbreaker-clad security force descends on any unfortunate vagrant caught napping in a stairwell after dark.

While not an independent nation, Willamette is a nearly autonomous collective of people who have chosen to divorce themselves from the problems of their community. Students here, including me, fret about social equality inside the thick walls of our campus while ignoring the exponentially larger problems outside. Our blindness is comforting, but destructive. We have deprived our community of a valuable force for social improvement, and we have deprived ourselves of the perspective necessary for good citizenship. The artificial barriers between our university campus and the surrounding community damage our society and limit the depth our education. We, as students, faculty, and staff at Willamette University have an obligation to break those barriers down. We must engage our neighbors as fellow members of the same community, not as delegates from a foreign institution. Only by forging interpersonal relationships can we dismantle the walls between our communities and ourselves.

The Willamette Community: Potentially and at Present

The most striking and obvious evidence of the isolation of Willamette students within Salem is our almost total lack of contact with our neighbors. In my childhood, my parents routinely sent me to borrow an egg or some flour from the neighbors. The friendly couple in the big house on the corner, Vicki and David, made special gift baskets for my sister and me every Halloween. My Boy Scout troop raked old Mrs. Phillips' yard when the leaves piled up, and the Williams family helped us pour concrete for our patio. Every June, the whole neighborhood came together for the block party at Midway Market and Grocery. Every Christmas, families traded their trademarked baked goods-we gave banana bread, the Warrems supplied peanut brittle, and some one on the block always passed around the requisite inedible fruitcakes. But holiday gift exchanges and block parties were only a small expression of the underlying social fabric of the neighborhood. The real magic was simple interpersonal relationships. Vicki and David weren't just good for a quick score on Halloween; they were also a valuable source of support for the whole neighborhood. When the elderly couple living down the block fell ill, Vicki called the neighbors together to visit them in the hospital. Our neighborhood was a safety net, ready to catch anyone who fell on hard times. When an abandoned house nearby started attracting rats and raccoons, David and my father pestered City Hall to step in. Our neighborhood joined forces to wield political power in our common interest. When David was diagnosed with a rare disease, the neighborhood rallied to him. Our neighborhood was a support group, available to anyone who needed a friend or even just a hug.

Of course, I didn't grow up in Utopia. There were occasional squabbles. A dog down the street absolutely refused to stop barking and its owner absolutely refused to do anything about it. Once or twice there were disputes over rights to parking spots and even property lines, but the neighborhood always hung together. Personal relationships between neighbors always prevailed over petty differences of opinion, and the fabric of our community held strong. The benefits of living in a friendly and interconnected area were enormous. On the practical side, property values were high, crime rates were low, and the trick-or-treating was fantastic. The bigger impact, though, was on the spiritual side. I grew up knowing people all over my world cared about me. If I skinned my knee on the pavement in front of any house in the neighborhood, I could count on swift and gentle medical rescue from the occupant inside. As I got older, the safety net became a responsibility as much as a perk. I raked leaves for Mrs. Phillips because when I was a kid she put band-aids on my knee. Eventually, the safety net even held me accountable. Cheating on a test would incur more than punishment from my parents-I'd get a healthy dose of shame from the neighbors, too.

Things are different at Willamette. Excepting a handful of Willamette students, I know the name of absolutely no one living within a five-block radius of my house. There are a few familiar faces: the man who walks his cocker spaniels four times a day, the woman who waits for the bus on the corner every weekday morning, and the guy up the block who likes to sit on the front porch with a six pack of Bud Light. I've even said hello to a few people, but there's no one I would ask for an egg, much less for support in a time of need. Most students living off campus have similar experiences. A friend of mine recently moved into a house a few blocks away. Her first and only contact with the neighbors was curt note asking her to "show some respect" by parking her car on the other side of the street. Another fellow student lives in an old house converted into a group of apartments. He shares an entryway with two other people, but has never even seen them. The only evidence of their existence is a pair of shoes outside the door and the low murmur of the television through the walls.

It can be hard to pinpoint the impact of the absence of strong neighborhood connections. Naturally, we keep on living our lives whether we chat with out next-door neighbors or not, but we live them a little less well. Without our neighborhood safety net, accidentally leaving the door unlocked is a little riskier. Walking down the block at night feels a little less secure. As students, we have supplemental safety nets from our peers and friends at school, but physical distance makes those relationships qualitatively different. Nothing can replace solid relationships with out proximate neighbors.

It may be unsurprising that college students fail to form close bonds with their neighbors. Since students typically only stay in the same house or apartment for nine months to a year, opportunities to build long term friendships in the neighborhood may be scarce. Moreover, a group of college students and a small family may have little in common besides living on the same block. But location alone should be sufficient to form at least cursory relationships. Perhaps it's too much to expect Christmas parties, but both college roommates and small families have, at the very least, a common interest in keeping the neighborhood safe. Nobody wants to live next door to a methamphetamine lab. But despite this basic common interest, neighborhood involvement among Willamette students falls well below an expected minimum.

Isolation is evident in the Willamette social scene, too. Last spring I walked into a bar in downtown Salem known for it's loud, extroverted atmosphere. I happened to be wearing a Willamette tee shirt. I arrived by myself, planning to meet up with friends already there, but I couldn't seem to find them. After a couple moments of wandering around with a confused expression on my face, a woman tapped me on the shoulder and pointed. "Over there," she said. "You can smell the smug a mile away." I looked in the direction she was pointing and saw my friends, Willamette students all, huddled in a corner talking quietly among themselves. The six or seven students were sitting around a table in an absolutely impermeable circle. Of course there's nothing wrong with keeping to yourselves at a bar, but clearly the woman who spoke to me saw a pattern of antisocial behavior from Willamette students. Her impression that Willamette students are arrogant and disrespectful is a common one, and not without cause.

House parties, a staple of a college student's social diet, offer more evidence. Local residents at Willamette parties are like colossal squid; they almost certainly exist, but nobody has ever spotted a living specimen. I feel confident that, in a city of more than 150,000 people, there are at least some young people not taking classes at Willamette University. My assumption is based entirely on inference, however, as I have rarely spotted a trace of them. From small gatherings in dorm rooms to raging keggers in off-campus basements, "townies" are an endangered species. Some speculate that local Salemites are "sketchy" and consequentially undeserving of an invitation to our social events. But stereotypes rarely capture the whole truth. I suspect there are at least a few young people in Salem who will not pee on a front porch or try to steal a television. A more likely explanation for their absence is that few Willamette students actually know any locals well enough to invite them.

The reason for the dearth of locals in Willamette social circles is that students here typically spend their first two years planted firmly inside an airtight bubble. University housing, required for freshmen and sophomores, clusters students together in fortified compounds. Visits from outsiders are strictly controlled and rare. Students living next door to students naturally encourages camaraderie, but living without contact with other community members discourages students from branching out. University-sponsored entertainment programming (almost always on-campus) reduces the desire to explore Salem and the rest of the state. After all, unlike the downtown cineplex, WEB movies are free and screaming children are nowhere to be found. Meal plans even eliminate the need to leave campus for sustenance, at least for people capable of surviving on cafeteria pizza. Willamette students have shelter, companionship, food, and entertainment all within a quarter mile. The result is a close-knit circle of young scholars.

Chances for Willamette students to reach outside of the circle can be few and far between. Off-campus jobs can generate connections outside the Willamette circle, but many students work on campus or don't work at all. Those who do work off campus often struggle to balance competing social spheres. A friend of mine working at a local restaurant invited a few friends from work to a Willamette gathering last year with disappointing results. The Willamette students found the new people unsophisticated and "sketchy" with their tattoos and died hair, while the restaurant employees thought the students in brand name polo shirts were stuck up and arrogant. Neither side felt comfortable and neither wanted to repeat the experience. Neither side gave the other a chance, and the opportunity to forge meaningful relationships with members of the Salem community was squandered. My friend was forced to choose between friends at work and friends at school.

Community service and volunteer work encourages students to get off campus, but usually not in a way that builds deep or lasting relationships. Cleaning up a park, while admirable and beneficial to the community, does little to bring people together when students don't interact with local residents. Student volunteers are unlikely to communicate with local residents who will enjoy the park later. Community service projects like that don't unite a community so much as deliver the efforts of one community upon another. They may improve "town-gown relations" but they do little to integrate Willamette students into the community. Sometimes service projects may even be perceived to demonstrate a subtly paternalistic attitude: well-off Willamette students stooping to help out the less fortunate before returning to their ivory towers. Before students can truly serve the community, they must become part of the community, and that means breaking out of the close-knit circle.

Close-knit circles aren't necessarily bad. The cloistering of students in university-managed facilities is deliberate and often beneficial. Residence halls foster a sense of community specific to the University. As a freshman a long way from home, I found segregation from the rest of the world comforting. In a world distinctly unlike anything I'd known before, I found it comforting to associate with people in the same boat. Doing my own laundry and living without a curfew were scary enough-thank goodness I didn't have to blaze a trail through a firmly established social system. Diving into new adventures with other freshmen forged an important group identity and built lasting bonds between my classmates and me. The existence of a "Willamette community" is vital to the university; it encourages matriculation and retention, keeps students on track to graduate, and promotes alumni donations. The problem is that our close-knit circle is impenetrable. The Willamette community too often nudges out other community identities. Our Willamette identity excludes our Salem identity, at the expense of community as a whole.

Failing Neighborhoods: The Impact of Apathy

Felony Flats, my neighborhood, wasn't always as dilapidated as it is today. The big, old houses look rundown and shabby after years of neglect, but once they must have stood tall in a fresh coat of paint behind landscaped yards and giant oak trees. How did this neighborhood get to where it is today? When did its occupants stop watering the flowers and fixing the roofs? Why did the crime rate spike and property values plummet? Did an influx of apathetic college students contribute?

The segregation of the Willamette community from the surrounding city is no small matter. On an individual basis, nonparticipation and apathy is regrettable but inevitable. But when nonparticipation extends to encompass a group as large as Willamette's student body, neighborhoods can turn into places like Felony Flats. Of course, student migration isn't the sole reason for the downfall of the Felony Flats area. Proximity to the state prison and economic troubles surely played a major role, but community apathy probably contributed as well. For one, Willamette students living off campus tend to congregate in neighborhoods close to campus, concentrating people unwilling want to engage in community building in a small area. This weakens neighborhoods and adversely affects the lives of community members. Additionally, a pattern of nonparticipation in the formative years of students' lives may lead to nonparticipation in the future. Willamette University may be churning out the future's bad neighbors.

Limited community involvement contributes to substantial short-term harms, both for students and Salem residents. Low levels of engagement from Willamette students weaken a community's ability to affect change. In my hometown, neighbors rallied together to prevent a developer from leveling an historic park and replacing it with a parking lot. Had the developer's plan succeeded, crime rates would have increased and property values would have dropped. The aesthetic value of the neighborhood would be compromised and neighborhood children would have lost a place to play. The neighborhood response was swift and organized, but it depended entirely upon invested citizens willing to pull together. In neighborhoods inhabited by Willamette students, I fear that a similarly swift and organized response would have been impossible. Student occupants would likely shrug their shoulders, remembering that they would be moving out in a few months anyway. In neighborhoods where Willamette occupancy rates are high, non-participation from students cripples neighborhood activism. The result is a community unable to unite for the common good, whether it is maintaining open space and aesthetic virtue or keeping crime rates low.

Weakened neighborhood infrastructures are visible on a daily basis, too. In several parts of Salem, neighborhood associations and neighborhood watches help control crime rates, keep streets clean, and lobby city government for improvements. For example, a member of the Northeast Salem Neighborhood Association recently told me her group had successfully lobbied for increased police presence in the area after a series of vandalism incidents. Unfortunately, these civil society groups are notably weak in areas where students are most likely to live. Students aren't usually particularly invested in their neighborhoods since we tend to move around a lot. As a result, few have interest in joining neighborhood civil society groups. At the same time, community members expect little from students living down the block and do little to encourage participation. The fault probably comes from both sides, and the negative impact affects both sides. Student houses are often notorious for run-down appearances and odd smells. When students aren't invested in their living quarters, conditions tend to deteriorate. Often poor maintenance is less the fault of student occupants and more that of their landlords. Since students aren't typically invested in their houses, landlords can skimp on basic maintenance knowing they are unlikely to get complaints. Unkempt lawns and litter at student residences may seem trivial, but they drive down property values and encourage more active residents to vacate to other parts of the city. The impact is poorer neighborhoods with high turnover rates, weakening the community's social infrastructure.

Salem residents are not the only victims of Willamette students' disengagement. We, as students, suffer too. For one, high crime rates and decaying houses and apartment complexes affect students just as they affect families. Additionally, some members of the Salem community are acutely aware of the negative impact created by Willamette students moving into their neighborhoods. A Salem landlord I spoke to recently told me that two neighbors had called him and demanded he rent his property to some one other than college students. Students living in the Forum apartment complex near campus have received multiple noise complaints in their first three weeks at the complex. The students hadn't been throwing parties-the complaint alleged that they had been "talking too loudly." Their neighbors, it appears, wanted to send a message early that loud social gatherings would not be tolerated. Years of limited community engagement have left Willamette students a reputation as bad neighbors. As bad reputations are reinforced by new experiences, it becomes harder for Willamette students to find off-campus housing and work. We become less welcome at local business establishments, and the quality of our community suffers.

Miniscule community participation from Willamette students also suggests a failing in the University's educational system. While our mission statement at Willamette promises to embrace "a commitment to service and leadership in our various communities," the commitment-at least from students-rarely extends beyond the limits of the University's campus. Too often we ignore the motto "not unto ourselves alone are we born." When Willamette students ignore the needs of the surrounding community, we do so at our own expense.

Our college years are purported to be a centrally formative experience. The curriculum at the College of Liberal Arts is academically rigorous but socially inadequate. In our core classes, our "modes of inquiry," we learn to think critically, communicate effectively, and challenge our assumptions. But we don't learn to engage our community or build social infrastructure. We often forget that college is intended to prepare us to live our lives as responsible and engaged citizens as well as sound-minded scholars. A few academic classes do promote civic responsibility and community knowledge: I took a class from Samuel Basu called "Writing Political Philosophy" in which I was required to examine Salem through the eyes of an outsider and write a paper from that perspective. The activity forced me to examine my attitude towards my community, to see its faults and also to see its potential. It forced me to step outside the bubble and engage with my community. Another professor, Joe Boxersox, requires community service in some of his classes. A friend of mine loathed the idea of picking up trash for a grade, but later told me he found the experience "boring but rewarding."

These efforts to encourage civic engagement among students are laudable but insufficient. In a few short years, most of my graduating class at Willamette will be settled down. We will own houses, we will have families, and we will be full-fledged members of communities. What those communities will look like will depend in large part on our formative experiences at this university. If we fail to recognize the value of strong communities and strong neighborhoods now, we may never develop the skills and attitudes needed to truly participate.

The ramifications of communitarian illiteracy in Willamette's alumni base threaten the future of the University. Alumni activism is critical to the health of the institution, financially and otherwise. Alumni contributions fund an astonishing array of scholarships, academic chairs, endowments and other programs. Of equal significance, strong alumni networks expand opportunities for students and recent graduates. A sense of community and kinship with other graduates boosts the value of a Willamette education by enhancing career opportunities. The quality of education at this university would suffer terribly without a generous alumni network willing to give back to the alma mater. If we fail to instill in students respect for the value of giving back to the community, we endanger the financial lifeblood of the university. It is of critical importance that Willamette work to teach its students the value of community in addition to its intense academic programs.

Positive Engagement: The Revitalization of Community

I grew up near the campus of the University of Oklahoma. A few blocks away from my house, thousands of college students inhabit giant stone mansions marked by Greek letters symbolizing their respective fraternities and sororities. For students who eschew the Greek life, there are dozens of small apartment complexes and compartmentalized old homes along the tree-lined streets. When I was 12, a local landlord bough a house across the street and converted it for that purpose. At first, most of my neighbors were furious. They were sure property values would plummet and they would be chased out of their homes by blaring stereos and flying beer bottles. Their assumptions were proved wrong. Nobody even noticed when a trio of unassuming engineering majors moved. They'd lived there for two weeks when my family bumped into them in their front yard while walking the dog. We invited them over for dinner and, a few nights later, one of them taught me to fold a perfect paper airplane over a pile of spaghetti. Over the course of the year, the young engineers did throw a couple of parties. They were always on weeknights and wrapped up by one in the morning-too late, by my parents' standards, but too early to justify calling the police on such nice young men.

The isolation of Willamette students is a problem, but it is not inevitable. It should be possible, even in a college setting, to build at least cursory relationships between students and local residents. To avert the negative impact of community segregation, we need only promote those interpersonal relationships. By encouraging direct contact and communication between students and community residents, we can foster connections capable of solving problems like neighborhood degradation.

The simplest solution to ivory tower isolation is direct engagement on the one-on-one level. As a child, I remember delivering cookies or a bottle of wine with my parents to newcomers to the neighborhood. The simple gesture of welcoming a new community member takes the first step to forging lasting community identities. Tasty presents aren't even necessary. This year, when I move into a new house a few blocks from campus, I plan to spend an evening knocking on doors down the street to introduce myself. In the worst-case scenario, my neighbors will think I'm a little odd and maybe overly friendly. In the best-case scenario, I'll make a new friend and ally: some one to watch over the house when I'm away for the weekend, someone from whom I can borrow an egg. If I host a party, I might even invite a few of them. I'm certain I'll be less likely to hear from my landlord or the police due to excessive noise. The University would do well to encourage similar behavior in other students.

Students could even take community involvement one step farther by actually joining neighborhood associations or neighborhood watch groups. Most community-based organizations are friendly to newcomers and in need of volunteer support. By joining these organizations, Willamette students would gain valuable experience in neighborhood activism and reduce tensions with their neighbors. They would also enrich their neighbors' experiences by adding an extra perspective. In areas where no such groups exist, Willamette students could easily exploit networks like Facebook to establish them. Participation in civil society would improve communities and change students from a community liability to a community asset.

Of course, community outreach need not be limited to neighbors. At off campus jobs and events in Salem we can broaden out social horizons by reaching out to coworkers and other locals. Aside from the benefits of making new friends, reaching out to locals can also educate us about the needs of our community. A few days ago in a coffee shop I chatted with a local shop owner and learned about a bond issue on the ballot in the Salem-Keizer area this November. The bond will pay for much-needed infrastructure repairs that, according to the shop owner, will improve business opportunities in the area. Of course, I could have learned the facts from reading the local newspaper, but talking to a business owner changed my perspective on the issue. Quality roads and bridges weren't my concern a few weeks ago-I don't even drive. But now I have to consider the possibility of better jobs for my friends at the University and higher tax revenues to pay for things like libraries. Social relationships with members of the community expand our understanding of the place we live, to our benefit and the benefit of our neighbors.

Some student organizations have also taken positive steps towards community engagement, but they could go farther. The Willamette College Democrats, for example, have worked towards greater integration with other Democratic organizations in the area. Members of the Marion County Democratic Party frequently attend College Democrats' meetings and some Willamette students have reciprocated. Enhanced communication between the two organizations makes both more effective, but it also offers Willamette students the opportunity to build relationships with Salem community members. Campus-based community service organizations have effectively reached out to their non-Willamette counterparts with similar results. Stand For Children, a grassroots advocacy organization, set up a chapter at Willamette a few years ago. These are positive developments, but there remains much room for improvement.

Unfortunately, university policies sometimes counteract attempts to associate with the Salem community. The requirement that underclassmen live on campus strengthens bonds among Willamette students, but denies students the opportunity to live in the same off-campus quarters for more than a couple years. Willamette social meetings, academic lectures, and entertainment events are often off limits to the general public, and groups unassociated with the University find it hard to host events here. Events open to the public are usually not well publicized in the Salem community. The few that are tend to attract lots of locals and have proven to be great successes. Salem Monthly, for example, plugged last year's Wulapalooza and local residents responded. I personally ran into several Salem community members and found the concert more enjoyable for it. Other Willamette events, like WEB-sponsored movies or open-mike nights at the Bistro, would foster community engagement without disenfranchising students. More events could be scheduled at off-campus venues or in conjunction with non-university groups. Wulapalooza again sets a positive precedent; last year the concert held a promotional "sneak peak" event at a local coffee shop. Expansion of Willamette events will encourage social intermingling and improve Willamette's standing in the community as well.

One purpose in building the Kaneko Commons was to promote "active student involvement in the commons, University and greater-Salem area." The Kaneko staff has done a tremendous job in encouraging student participation in the Commons, but outreach to the Salem community has been limited. The very design of the structure, including high concrete walls, a metal gate, and barbwire fences, seems to discourage community engagement. To call a space "common" while denying access to the vast majority of Salem residents is counterintuitive. Future construction projects could be designed with publicly accessible space to encourage mingling between students and local residents. The University could bring students living off-campus together with their neighbors for special meetings and events. In particular, the University could host a mandatory meeting of all students living off campus at the beginning of each school year and invite residents of student-inhabited neighborhoods to attend. This meeting would give students and residents an opportunity to get to know each other, creating an avenue for the advancement of interpersonal relationships. It would give residents an opportunity to voice concerns about having students live in the neighborhood, and it would give students the chance to see things from a different perspective. At the very least, bringing students and local residents together would reduce tensions between the two groups. At best, it would build neighborhood-oriented identities in students and local residents alike.

We could even take a strong step towards community integration by inviting community members to live in university housing like the Kaneko Commons or Hazeldorf. Opening up a few apartments in each building would create a true common space where Willamette students and Salem locals could interact with guidance and support from the university. While this plan would reduce the number of apartments available to Willamette students, it would not threaten the integrity of the Willamette community because the new unaffiliated residents would take spots only available to upperclassmen. Underclassmen could still enjoy the small, close-knit social group of students their own age, while older students would have the opportunity to build more real world relationships while still in the university setting. Unaffiliated residents and students could even be placed in apartments according to common interests: Spanish majors could live next door to a Spanish-speaking couple, politics majors next to a legislative assistant at the capitol, and law students next door to lawyers. In this way, open community housing could encourage civic identity and academic pursuits simultaneously.

Ultimately, repairing the bonds between Willamette University and the surrounding community will require hard work. Structural problems, like the nomadic patterns of students going home in the summer and returning to a different residence in the fall, are stumbling blocks on the path to strong, integrated communities. Those problems will always exist, but we can take steps to mitigate them. Attitudes and stereotypes alone prevent Willamette students from socializing with local residents. Apathy holds us back from communicating with our neighbors and joining civic organizations that could help integrate students with locals. In some areas, we have already made tremendous progress. Poor dialog and communication, however, have limited our efficacy in bringing the community together. These mountains are not immovable-with effort we can reverse the trends that lead to student isolation and withdrawal from the community.

We would do well to make that goal a top priority. Strong neighborhoods and strong communities benefit everyone. If we transform students from a neighborhood liability into a neighborhood asset, we will find ourselves with safer streets, cleaner parks, friendlier neighbors, and more places to live. The practical impacts are tremendous, but the spiritual benefits of strong neighborhoods are equally important. College is about studying, but it is also about learning. Our aim here is not simply to receive degrees; it is to become good people. When we shut out our community and our neighbors, when we shrug and remind ourselves that we'll be gone in a few years anyway, we cheat ourselves out of opportunities to learn.

The solutions to this problem may be inconvenient, but they are workable. Community service projects can be redesigned to generate greater dialog with community members, reframing students' efforts from one community helping another to a single community working as a unit. We can encourage students to socialize with local residents by opening up campus events or turning them into off-campus events. We can spark dialog between students and community members by simply inviting them to meet. We can even open the door to a fully integrated Salem-Willamette community by inviting local residents to live alongside students. We can reverse the trends that lead to student isolation and withdrawal from the community, but we will have to work at it.