"Who is Dartmouth for?"
Class Day exercises in the Bema last June made me sentimental and reflective. Our special tradition of the breaking of the pipes made me sentimental about my love for Dartmouth and for my friends who were graduating; I was reflective because I couldn't help thinking of the demoralizing events which had hurt the College, and all of us students, in the past year. Somehow, these two emotions didn't quite mesh. As I sat on the damp ground and considered this conflict, I was struck by something that the faculty speaker brought up. Professor of English David Kastan, though he didn't speak on the topic, raised the question, "Who is Dartmouth for?" I think this is a relevant and indeed pressing question, and one that needed to be answered by all of us in those troubled months last year.
My own response is simple: Dartmouth exists for all the different kinds of people who make up this small and special community. It must be expected, and it is natural, that there will be differences of opinion and diversity within a community, but the well-being of the group as a whole should be the first priority here.
Last year, we received an incredible amount of embarrassing press because certain individuals and interest groups sought to reshape the College according to their own ideals and desires. As a result, the larger community suffered greatly. There was no longer campus cohesiveness, and certain controversial events forced students to choose sides, thus creating schisms. I had what I think were typical experiences over my Christmas and spring vacations: I found myself having to explain the disruptions while, at the same time, wanting and trying to defend "my" school. Should I feel guilty, I wondered, for loving such a "racist," "sexist," and "homophobic" place?
My feelings then, and my thoughts now, definitely indicate that my response is negative. I don't feel guilty, because I honestly think those accusations are imprecise. I consider myself to be a member of the Dartmouth majority a silent majority, certainly in terms of what went on last year. Silence in a situation like this one can be good and it can also be interpreted as harmful, but I think the key word here is majority. The great percentage of Dartmouth students were unrepresented in all the newspaper headlines and television news shows last winter. We didn't build shanties, nor did we attack them, but we all felt the effects of these events, and we all suffered in some way as a result.
As I see it, the two groups in the spotlight last year, The Review and the Dartmouth Community for Divestment, answered the question of who Dartmouth is for according to their terms exclusively. In effect, both organizations said, "Dartmouth is for us." The problems of 1985-86 arose out of their determination to overcome the opposition and make their individual causes triumphant, and also out of the loss of vision that resulted from such intense desires.
The Review purposely attempted to disrupt campus life in its effort to publicize its conservative views. Freedom of the press is one thing, and no doubt a good thing, but the violence displayed in the shanty attack cannot be excused as a simple expression of political opinion. And consider the words of one Review staff member, as quoted from the May issue of New England Monthly in reference to a previous Review incident and story: "There's something to be said for infamy, no doubt about it. If you want to have your name spread around campus, get in a scandal. What more can you do to energize your social life?" I find myself asking what exactly is the point here-deep conviction about an issue or a purposeful attempt to disrupt a community which doesn't live up to one's ideal standards?
Then there was the flipside, the DCD. Like The Review, this group has some justifiable and morally correct ideas, but it, too, seemed to lose its original vision somewhere along the way. The shanties appeared in November as a symbol for divestment. By the time they were removed in late winter, divestment had taken the back seat to a greater struggle of a "persecuted" group in a conservative and allegedly parochial society. Members of the DCD went on to vengefully disrupt 1986 Commencement by painting their faces, screaming out during the ceremony, and rushing the stage. Again, I wondered about the issues at hand. Were these actions really intended to improve the plight of black South Africans? I think not. I saw them as purposeful disruptions of a College that refused to become for the DCD.
Dartmouth is not for The Review, nor is it for the DCD. Its purpose is to in some way connect lots of different types of people; this is similar to the elementary math concept of a lowest common denominator. The College exists for all of us-students, alumni, faculty, and administrators-and its role in the lives of students should, and can, surpass political differences. The diversity which surfaced last year has definitely done some great things for the College and for students, but we can never forget that we all have to work constructively and together to maintain cohesiveness at a certain level.
And so, the day following Class Day, as I craned my neck from the back row to catch a glimpse of Commencement, I again experienced some mixed feelings: sadness as I watched seniors receive their diplomas and turn the tassels on their caps, but also relief as I imagined, with no small amount of wishful thinking, that Dartmouth's problems would also be taking leave of Hanover.
Lesley Barnes is a senior from Rowayton, Conn.,and is majoring in English. She is one of the Magazine's two Whitney Campbell interns.
