A Greek Tragedy
A voice comes over the loudspeaker. "This is President Wright. Today begins the end of the Greek system 'as we know it.' We have every intention of soliciting the input of students before we reiterate our commitment to ignore their responses."
It's a joke. Just some loudmouth with a microphone parodying the president's vague yet ominous statements made in the wake of the Trustees' announcement. Still, it's indicative of the way many members of the Greek system feel the administration is treating their concerns. Students are angry and confused. We're angry about a decision that seems to have been made unilaterally and in secret. And we're confused by language that seems deliberately evasive. Just what are the Trustees saying, and what do they expect from us? Although they balk at giving anything less than the most obtuse answers to our questions, there is the undeniable sense that for the Greek houses, the news is bad.
Despite what you have read in the national press, the Trustees and administration will make no declarative statements on the continued place of Greek houses (single-sex or coed). They will not acknowledge any behind-closed-doors commitment to phase them out, nor will they guarantee their future existence. They are simply willing to start again from ground zero, reshaping the entire residential and social system as it stands now, and it's as if there is some unspoken confidence that the system to rise from the ashes will bear little resemblance to the one in place today.
In all fairness, the current system is lopsided. Despite nearly equal involvement of both sexes, there are more than twice as many fraternities as sororities. But rather than pour "tens of millions" of dollars into the construction of residences for new sororities, the Trustees seem interested only in plans that are "creative," a codeword for models that find new uses for Greek houses. And this is where the tragedy comes in. The new possibilities are positive. Who wouldn't want to offer more language-affinity housing, or dynamic senior apartments, or (Warning: here comes a plug) a house devoted entirely to the Jack O'Lantern (akin to what humor magazines have at Harvard, Stanford, and many others of our peers)? They all would be great enrichments to student life.
But the elimination of the Greek system would mark the end of so much more. Women argue that the removal of female-only residential societies is blatantly anti-woman. African-American students worry about losing the strength and identity they find in the tradition of historically black fraternities and sororities. Gay students protest as well. Although many people associate fraternities with homophobia, today you'll see prominent campus figures who are "out" proudly wearing their Greek letters, many of whom cite the stable support network of their houses as the source of their courage to be open about their sexuality.
The Trustees seem focused on removing alcohol from the social system. However, underage drinking occurs at colleges with fraternities and those without. The banishment of Greeks at certain schools has done nothing to reduce the amount of alcohol consumed. Abusive drinking is a serious issue, but it is not caused by the fraternity system, nor even is it a side effect. It's a problem endemic to young adults in a society that romanticizes alcohol in its poetry, literature, and popular culture. The College has made valiant strides in its health education programs. But dismantling the Greek system would address only the reputation of Dartmouth's drinking culture, not the causes of it.
Young adults who have never had a drink in their lives but who have found a home in the system attest to whoever will listen that—it's not just a line—the true benefits of Greek life have nothing to do with alcohol. Clearly, that doesn't mean mature, responsible, and intelligent students don't enjoy getting drunk now and again. There's something visceral and appealing about intoxication. We read Keats, drunk on beauty, and Whitman, drunk on life. It is not just alcohol that creates the excitement, but what the alcohol represents. A school-sponsored sock hop will never offer the bohemian allure of a fraternity party, hosted by self-determined libertines answerable to no one.
The unknown. The unsanctioned. The forbidden.
You may be drawn in by these temptations, but that's not why you stay. The mystique of being a "frat guy" fades, and even drinking until you vomit gets tiresome. Suddenly you're a senior and Friday night on Webster means too many sweaty people crowded onto a dance floor, immature adolescents who still find inebriation novel and fun. Scenes which once inspired a sense of wonder now elicit groans of ennui.
And so these jaded upperclassmen chime in with the administration. Wouldn't it be better if these dens of debauchery were replaced with mini-golf and movie theaters and an academic affinity house or two? They don't get it. Alcohol is why the parties are so well-attended, but it's not why the system is so strong. For outsiders, the open social events are all they see of fraternity and sorority life. What they miss is everything the members are willing to fight for. The houses are their family. These societies have given something to their lives that was missing, something that living in the French house couldn't provide. There's a camaraderie and an affection that makes the bad times bearable and the good times even better. To a 19-year-old coping with depression, loneliness, stress, or anxiety (emotions common to young adults, yet so stigmatized that few ever talk about them), the brotherhood or sisterhood provides a support network that the College cannot replace.
All students would welcome increased social options and the construction of new facilities designed to enhance student life. If only the administration would focus on building up, rather than taking down, then perhaps the entire community could become involved in what otherwise seems to be a generous plan designed to improve life at Dartmouth.
a Zeta Psi brother and formereditor of the Jack O'Lantern, isa Whitney Campbell intern atthis magazine.
Unaffiliated women sang for "the system."
