For three years now, I've had the good fortune of being a staff columnist for the Dartmouth. With this title come no fat paychecks, no VIP status, no adoring fans. It just means that every so often, I get to have an opinion on something and the nice people at the D give me 800 words to vent my thoughts to the dozens of loyal readers of these pages.
But the blessing has been a mixed one, at best, and very often I find myself facing an impending deadline with nothing of substance to say (or hadn't you noticed?). So, when all else fails, I resort to my standard column, an endless variation on the theme of criticizing Dartmouth As A Whole while vehemently supporting the Greek System As We Know It. For my efforts, or lack thereof, I've received some interesting responses. One reader, incensed by one of my pro-Greek columns, told me to "prate on about my precious frats," and that I could more or less burn in hell for all eternity.
Well, rest assured, Dear Reader. Times have changed. From here on out, I will neither prate, prattle, nor purl any longer in favor of the Greeks. Please don't misunderstand me; I still support the Greek system. I still believe it plays an indispensable role in the social life of this sleepy New Hampshire town and should continue to do so. I am still an active and loyal member of a fraternity and some of the people I consider my closest friends I also call my brothers. I just think the time has passed when we can defend the Greek system simply by writing columns or letters to the editor. We can no longer say that the Greek system deserves to exist at Dartmouth merely by citing precedent, claiming tradition, or pointing to a lack of viable alternatives as a reason for the stranglehold Greek life has on campus culture. If the Greek system is to withstand the changes imposed by the Student Life Initiative, if the Greek system is to weather the storm of opposition that follows in the wake of incidents like the recent one at Psi U, it must do so through deeds, not words.
I'm off campus this term, teaching middle school English in my hometown, so I wasn't around when the Psi U boys decided to kill two birds with one stone by combining misogyny with racism in their "Scalp the Bitch!" chant. Even though I was hundreds of miles away, I can still imagine the scene: a bunch of rich white kids decked out in North Face vests and tacky Indian jackets knocking back night crawlers or porch crawlers or whatever they call their glorified lemonade, standing around their balcony, hurling invectives at women as they walk by. As revolting as that scene may be to some of you, what scares me more is that, ten years from now, those same guys will be decked out in Armani and Brooks Brothers suits, standing around the water cooler at their cushy Manhattan I-banking jobs, trying to pinch girls' butts as they walk by.
Maybe I'm being unfair, and I certainly mean no more disrespect to the Psi U's than they did to that young woman. If this were an isolated incident, the kind of thing that only happens once in a blue moon at an otherwise great college with a reputation for producing intelligent, capable young men and women of the strongest moral fiber, then maybe we could overlook it. But this is Dartmouth. A Dartmouth in decline, no less, a place that focuses more on graduating droves of culturally stultified Pat Buchanan wannabes than it does on producing Rhodes Scholars. When we start scaring off any prospective applicant who has more intelligence than testosterone, we'll all pay the price. And this was not an isolated incident.
Whether it's a panty raid, a tasteless T-shirt, or a nonpolitically correct party, the response is always the same. The campus becomes outraged, maybe throws a candlelight vigil or two, then the president of the offending house writes a letter to the community stating that the incident was the result of the uncharacteristically poor judgment of a few members (who are being sternly disciplined), and does not reflect the behavior or sentiment of the house as a whole. End of story.
The very sad reality is that we've gotten to the point now where Greek houses select their presidents not because the person necessarily embodies leadership ideals or admirable qualities, but because the person will react quickly and effectively when the proverbial shit hits the proverbial fan, which, these days, it almost inevitably does.
I anticipate taking a lot of crap for writing this, especially from my friends and brothers. While certainly not everyone is to blame, this column exonerates no one. Maybe I'm overgeneralizing, maybe I'm being rash and jumping to false conclusions. Maybe I'm way off base here. I certainly hope so, and I hope that the members of the Greek community take this opportunity to prove me wrong. Not through pointless committees or poorly attended programming events or letters to the editor. Not through more words or excuses, but through deeds and actions.
