The Liberal Arts and the Gift of Defeat

Every scholar has a favorite thinker. Philosophers are moved by great explanations and questions. Scientists are moved by great discoveries. And yet all of us are moved by things that are beautiful. There is a space where great ideas and great artistry meet.

For me, that meeting place is poetry, partly because ancient scripture is often poetic, but mostly because of what poetry can do. Poetry isn't simply about words or rhythm. It's about imagery, plot, and, when it is really effective, epiphany—the moment when something becomes clear in a way we did not expect.

In a recent study, I asked a simple question: What is liberation? Or, what do we need to be liberated from? I became interested in this question because we live in an age of severe culture wars. People from many competing perspectives believe they are marginalized, even as we have experienced unprecedented advancements in legal protections and everyday conveniences. Most of us who read this have access to transportation, air conditioning, and legal protections that earlier generations could hardly imagine. So if we are, in many ways, "free as can be," what do we actually need liberation from?

I make the case that we sometimes need to liberate ourselves from popular thought that is unartistic, unoriginal, and, in connected ways, unreasonable. In my study of how poetry can be therapeutic and can free us from overly simplistic thinking, I bring together one of my favorite poems and one of my favorite philosophical ideas. The idea is simple: in many settings, the best thing we can do is lose, whether socially or professionally.

Yes, loss is often the best victory.

Why? If a social circle or professional endeavor is toxic, unworthy of our unique human experience, unaware of its own advantages but convinced that it is not, then not fitting in—or not winning—can actually be a victory. Loss becomes victory. Loss becomes opportunity.

Khalil Gibran's remarkable poem "Defeat" brings to mind Jesus standing before His enemies, enduring an unjust trial, and Jesus in Gethsemane, struggling without justice for Himself. Gibran's poem captures a paradox that is also present in the story of Jesus: sometimes what looks like defeat is actually the beginning of a different kind of victory.

And that sense of victory, achieved at a remarkable price—a defeat amid severe frustration—can make us "dangerous," as Gibran describes it, to social expectations and structures that are in error. We become dangerous to bad ideas. Our loss, ironically, can become our liberation. And that liberation can give us a new voice. We become, once again, like Jesus: separated from what is wrong and therefore able to speak to it.

This is one of the things I value most about a liberal arts education. It gives students room for that kind of depth. It asks them to reflect on themselves, to analyze society, to recognize the irony of common assumptions, and sometimes to resist what most people find comfortable or liberating but what, upon closer examination, may actually be limiting.

That is leadership. It is the ability to recognize genuine pain, to question easy answers, and to see possibilities that others may not see. It is also why I believe the liberal arts are not distant from real life. They are about life. Poetry. Philosophy. The human experience.

So I ask again: What is oppression?

Perhaps true oppression is fitting in—or at least accepting the notion that we need to fit in. Or believing the lie that we should labor to fit in.

Like Jesus, through our acceptance of certain defeats, we can gain from a liberal arts education what Gibran called the ability to "laugh at the storm" of acceptance. When we want our students to be disciple-leaders and innovators, what better can we offer our students?

And guess what? The mission of SVU is not to fit in. It is to lead rather than follow. It is to lift rather than fixate on competing. It is to be like Jesus when being like Jesus isn't very popular.

Dr. Brent Yergensen

Provost, Southern Virginia University