self-exposition according to which the argument ofnValidity in Interpretation was scarcely to bendistinguished from the kind of relativism espousednby Stanley Fish.nNote first in this account, the tell-tale polarity of theneither/or positions: Hirsch’s earlier ideas promoted objectivitynand respect for the author’s meaning, and all rightthinkingnpersons should agree with him. These earliernHirschian ideas are set against the currently fashionablenrelativism of Fish and Derrida, from whom the recantingnapostate Hirsch can now scarcely be distinguished. Ignoringnthe fact that I have continued to attack Derrida and Fish,nKimball does not pause to consider the details of what I saidnat Williams, any more than he considers the argument Inmade in Validity in Interpretation, to which I still adhere. Tonhim, it was enough for me to say that my views onninterpretation are not “conservative.” Bam! But, as Inpainstakingly explained to the audience in* which Mr.nKimball sat, to call my views about interpretation “conservative”nis not inherently objectionable to me; my objection wasnthat to do so is simpleminded and untrue. As I wrote innValidity in Interpretation (which was at the time, in 1967, anmuch-attacked, antiestablishment book):nThere is nothing in the nature of the text itselfnwhich requires the reader to set up the author’snmeaning as his normative ideal. Any normativenconcept in interpretation implies a choice that isnrepresented not by the nature of written texts butnrather by the goal the interpreter sets himself It is anweakness in many descriptions of the interpretivenprocess that this act of choice is disregarded and thenprocess described as though the object ofninterpretation were somehow determined by thenontological status of texts themselves [the viewnKimball ascribes to the eady Hirsch] . . . Thendefense of recognitive interpretation often assumesnthat something in the nature of the text requires thenmeaning to be the stable and determinate meaningnof an author. But the object of interpretation isnprecisely that which cannot be defined by thenontological status of a text, since the distinguishingncharacteristic of a text is that from it not just onenbut many disparate complexes of meaning can benconstrued.nAs I pointed out to Mr. Kimball and others at Williams, thatnargument is neither conservative nor liberal, but is compellednby empirical facts about language over which nonideology has control. I further pointed out that languagencould be otherwise, and indeed some artificial languages are.nBut natural languages, as a matter of empirical fact, arensemantically indeterminate. Therefore no metaphysical orndivine imperative can guide the principles of interpretation.nAll that was no doubt too complex to convey in the headynatmosphere of ideological warfare at Williams. Nonetheless,nwhat I said was true, and it was certainly no recantation. ThenWilliams event is paradigmatic. Truths are getting shotndown when they find themselves between the trenches —nparticulady when they are complex or ideologically nonpartisan.nLet me pursue this train of thought into the collegencurriculum debates. When Thomas Fleming asked mento write for Chronicles he may have had in mind such topicsnas whether the fall of John Locke and the rise of FrantznFanon in the core curriculum at Stanford heralds a dominoneffect, or whether it is perhaps an act of symbolic defiancenon a par with the 60’s male fashion of wearing long hair. Bynno means do I wish to evade that debate. Oicourse I believenit is absurd that students in one of the core strands atnStanford should be compelled to read Fanon instead ofnbeing compelled to read Locke. But that absurdity existsnwithin a larger one, caused by miseducation in our schools:nthat adults should be compelled to study anything outsidentheir areas of intellectual or professional interest.nI concede that even in different circumstances a casencould be made for preserving distribution requirements fornseventeen- and eighteen-year-olds, but I have also heardngood arguments against this American tradition. It is ancommonplace that European high-school graduates havenalready acquired the equivalent of our freshman and sophomorendistribution requirements. In some nations that havengood primary and secondary systems of education, universitynstudents aren’t required to study anything they do notnwish to study. These students, when they graduate fromncollege, are not noticeably less broadly educated thannAmerican college graduates. In a proper educational systemnfor adults, the act of offering or taking a college coursenshould ideally be a contractual arrangement in a freenmarket — with the teacher stating accurately in advancenboth what will be taught and what demanded.nBy the time they matriculate, college students in thenUnited States should already know that Locke influencednthe thinking of Madison, Jefferson, and other founders ofnour political arrangements. They needn’t know anythingnabout Fanon. After a really good high-school education suchnas can be found in other countries, chemistry majors shouldnnot be compelled to pursue a deeper study of either Lockenor Fanon unless they happen to have an interest in politicalntheory. They should be encouraged, of course, to havenbroad interests and be given an opportunity to pursue them,nbut as Blake succinctly put it, “One law for lion and ox isnoppression.”nIt is, of course, an evasion of my assignment simply tondescribe what colleges ought to be like. I am aware thatnAmerican colleges and universities have had to becomenremedial institutions, and we must make the most of thensituation. Our colleges, having been required to becomenfinishing schools, should try to perform their remedialnfunctions as well as they can. This is where a scheme likenLynne Cheney’s 50 Hours: A Core Curriculum for CollegenStudents is a useful guide. I have a great deal to say aboutnwhat the college humanities curriculum should be undernthese current conditions, which I hope will be temporary,nand much of what I have to say might appeal to conservativenreaders. But I do not want to preach to the converted on thisnsubject, particularly as there is an issue of greater consequencento the humanities in higher education than thenhumanities curriculum itself—namely the humanities innlower education.nConsider simply in quantitative terms the educationalnimportance of the Stanford core curriculum. If everynnnSEPTEMBER 1990/19n