Brown’s challenge is finding a pedagogy that pairs study with purpose, cultivates intellectual humility, and drives students towards serving the common good without compromising on autonomy.
By allowing students to pursue what they are most passionate about, the Open Curriculum enables students to be the “architects” of their own education in a way few other schools do. I have personally experienced the benefits of this system by enrolling in a mixture of computer science courses alongside offerings in the International and Public Affairs, Judaic Studies, Economics, and Italian Studies departments. Despite my appreciation for how it has shaped my experience, I must point out that there are flaws inherent in the liberty the Open Curriculum provides.
The Open Curriculum, officially minted in 1969 yet foreshadowed by Francis Wayland a century earlier, emerges from an era when science peeled away from faith and individuality reigned. Authors like G. K. Chesterton have long recognized the risks of this individualized approach to learning. His 1905 screed Heretics tells a cautionary tale of a culture so enamored with novelty that it forgets why knowledge matters in the first place. Brown’s challenge is finding a pedagogy that pairs study with purpose, cultivates intellectual humility, and drives students towards serving the common good without compromising on autonomy.
A major theme in G. K. Chesterton’s Heretics (1905/2017) is that past societies were calibrated towards the transcendent, with progress being defined by how closely individuals imitated the virtues prescribed by God. However, in contemporary society and academia, these same individuals are unable to define concretely what ought to be the ultimate goal of life due to a fear of conformity and lack of nuance. G. K. Chesterton describes this approach to progress as that of the “childlike and prosaic mind” (p. 39), with individuals being more preoccupied with originality over fundamentals and valuing novelty over coherence. Chesterton further speaks to the danger of creativity for its own sake:
“The most dreadful conclusion a literary man can come to … [is] that the ordinary view is the right one. It is only the last and wildest kind of courage that can stand on a tower before ten thousand people and tell them that twice two is four.” (p. 39)
But how can stating the obvious be courageous? Paradoxically, in circles that prize iconoclasm, affirming first principles can be the most rebellious of acts. Many intellectuals, in their hubris, refuse to defer to such basics. For Chesterton, the word “ordinary” is not pejorative but anchored in commonsense truths so basic we learn them before we can name them: that two plus two equals four, that honesty is better than deceit, and that human life has intrinsic worth. The more radical or unconventional a thinker believes themselves to be, the harder it becomes to accept these simple, self-evident truths — any fleeting idea is entertained because there is no standard to tell good ideas from bad ones.
This temptation is acute in academia, where graduate students win praise for novelty alone. In the university setting, morality and wisdom, though timeless, are easily bulldozed in the rush toward “progress.” This is why only the keenest of novelists and the most inventive of scientists share a deeper sanity: they know when to defer to first principles. They know the limits of their originality. True, moral frameworks vary, but they rhyme across cultures: whatever their views on justice, almost everyone agrees that murder is wrong.
Chesterton's insights show us that the Open Curriculum faces a unique challenge: ensuring that boundless course choice does not eclipse the cultivation of a moral and philosophical core. The Open Curriculum, with its broad, interdisciplinary scope, ought not simply encourage students to seek out the insights contained in diverse fields of knowledge for the sake of novelty. It must cultivate wisdom. Its highest aim, therefore, ought to be the pursuit of Truth. That pursuit demands intellectual risk‑takers willing to stake claims in objectivity and to order their inquiries by an explicit hierarchy of values. Whether those values arise from religious faith or secular reflection, every student should know — and be able to defend — why a particular course merits their finite attention, especially in the context of the life they hope to build beyond Brown.
A secondary danger associated with the Open Curriculum is that it sacrifices background knowledge in favor of unbridled enrollment. In his article The Privatization of the Truth (August 4, 2022) former Editor-in-Chief of The University of Notre Dame’s Irish Rover W. J. DeReuil observes that a student might “study Descartes… [without ever meeting] the Aristotelian framework he is trying to deconstruct,” or “read how Kant grapples with the moral problems posed by ‘new natural science’ without ever taking a class on evolution or Newtonian physics” (para. 7). Without “a thoughtfully ordered, comprehensive core curriculum,” he warns, learners cannot truly grapple with Meditations on First Philosophy or The Critique of Pure Reason because they lack an understanding of the very premises those works operate upon. I cite DeReuil not to call for a rigid core curriculum at Brown, but to highlight the need for contextual breadth—however achieved—so that freedom of choice deepens, rather than dilutes, intellectual engagement.
In my personal experience, introductory and some intermediate Economics courses at Brown are too narrow in their approach to offer the comprehensive background DeReuil speaks of. Courses like Principles of Economics (ECON 0110) and Intermediate Macroeconomics (ECON 1210) focus almost exclusively on Keynesian economic models, failing to introduce students to the broader intellectual ecosystem from which these theories emerged. Students leave each introductory economics course ignorant of the insights presented by Nobel Laureate Friedrich Hayek of the Austrian School of Economics, who placed a greater emphasis on individual liberties and decentralization and critiqued government intervention in the economy. For Brown’s curriculum to be truly “open,” the University must have diversity of ideas alongside diversity of courses.
In sum, I am not advocating against the Open Curriculum. Rather, I believe it takes precision and intention to wield its power properly. Given its aforementioned risks, more work is necessary on the University’s part for the Open Curriculum to live up to its full potential. By taking steps like emphasizing long-term goals in advising, broadening the scope of some introductory courses to encourage nuance, and embedding social‑responsibility modules across STEM concentrations Brown can ensure students graduate with a more complete understanding of the world.
Cover image courtesy of Inayaysad via Wikimedia Commons
Great work, Peter!