College students don’t read anymore. Most people have a pretty muted reaction to that statement. In fact, I’d guess that many might simply say “so what?” So what if people don’t read your dusty classics? It’s just a hobby these days, like collecting vinyls or listening to the radio—quaint, but really quite irrelevant. And besides, wasn’t it mostly rich white guys who read those books anyway, you classist snot?
Alright, point taken. But big picture, what really is the problem if 18-24 year olds don’t read quite as much? The issue is not that Tik Tok and iPhones are razing attention spans and melting our brains. The problem is that we have lost empathy.
There is a litany of recent evidence supporting the claim that students don’t read. Humanities professors say they can no longer assign entire books to their students, just snippets and sections, and pray that a few zealous pupils will take it upon themselves to finish the entire text. This new generation of students complain loudly about reading loads that were all but standard even just 15 years ago. The problem isn’t simply that students are lazy; many genuinely feel unable or unequipped to grapple with difficult texts. This is a phenomenon that spans all levels of academia, from community colleges to our precious Ivy League universities.
The decline in reading isn’t just anecdotal. The National Endowment for the Arts reports that there has been a seven point decrease in the number of adults who read at least one book a year since 2014. The younger the demographic you choose to look at, the more pronounced the trend becomes. Most research points to the rise of easily accessible entertainment, COVID-19, and advancements in AI as catalysts of this decline.
The primary concern isn’t why this is happening, but what we lose because of it. Reading nurtures, creates, and demands empathy from the reader. It develops something that other activities do not; something that college students need in spades.
Justin Trudeau, of all people, has a quote that nicely captures the point I am attempting to convey:
“Getting kids to read stories is sometimes one of the first ways they discover empathy, because you have to see yourself in the main character to get any enjoyment out of the book. And being aware of how someone else thinks and feels about anything is a complete opening of the world.”
Exactly. The reason Mr. Trudeau, now in his 50’s, still deliberately takes time to read is not to achieve some level of intellectual superiority, but to see the world through someone else's eyes. He doesn’t, and I won’t in this argument, discriminate against any genre. This can be achieved by reading fantasy, sci-fi, or historical fiction, though classics are most relevant to collegiate curriculums and, by extension, to this debate.
This is where my primary problem with declining college literacy lies. Reading is obviously a selective art, at least outside of classroom assignments. Just like a podcast or your social media feed, you choose what to consume. You can read Animal Farm or The Fountainhead (maybe don’t read that) and come away with ideas and feelings that reinforce pre-existing beliefs. But reading requires an extra step. If you are doing anything more than a perfunctory scan over 10-point font with glazed eyes, you have to step inside a world that you’ve created, but that isn’t your own. You empathize with something other; you wrestle with something new.
Critical thinking and media literacy are hot topics these days, especially given the rise of platforms that allow and encourage echo chamber effects. This behavior, coupled with declining critical literacy, is often cited as a leading cause of polarization and heat in our political and social discourse—places where I hope we can all agree that empathy is needed the most.
Literature is not some panacea for this issue; kids reading Moby-Dick isn’t going to magically smooth over our contentious political climate. But college-level literature is important in this debate because it isn’t curated for your comfort. These texts have the ability to be a space, maybe one of the only spaces, that fully requires both your attention and imagination. This mental exercise is one that can spark empathy, and even if that is all it does—create a small spark—that’s a step in the right direction.
I will acknowledge that this argument, when delivered incorrectly, can feel tinged with classism. Being extremely well-read or spending your nights reading classics is not what everyone must do. It does not make you better, or smarter, or cooler. And those who don’t have the time, desire, or ability to do so should not feel that this essay is some indictment against them.
But the ability—and openness—to read in college is important. At universities, the wet clay of the next generation is molded into informed voters, leaders, and neighbors. I like to think that reading, and the empathy that goes along with it, should remain part of that process.
