Misplaced priorities

Two weeks ago, Recess Senior Editor Norbert Schürer told me that he thought I might replace him as "the most hated man at Duke." What had the two of us done to attract so much Blue Devil bile? I had just written a column in The Chronicle that was critical of some of the attitudes we hold about our basketball rivals, three years after Norbert Schürer enraged the Duke community when he called our "disgusting" Cameron behavior "a large scale exercise in group hysteria and group identification."

Don't worry, mom. The Krzyzewskiville Mafia hasn't been banging on my door or demanding my blood. Nor did I attract many angry letters to the editor, probably because my central claim-that Tar Heels are people too, and deserve our respect-is a lot less ridiculous than other columns this year, such as the one who said eliminating public schools would be a good idea because it will force the poor people to have less kids. However, I did get the distinct impression that I ruffled some feathers.

But that reaction makes me wonder: why do we care so much about basketball during this time of year? While I was writing my previous column two weeks ago, I almost abandoned it several times, thinking: "It's just a basketball rivalry, it's not an important topic!" Shouldn't these pages be used to debate the issues that affect the University and the rest of the world? But we just cannot escape our winter basketball fever: Compare the overflowing tents of K-ville to the lackluster turnout for Tuesday's Students Against Sweatshops rally for disclosure in front of the Allen Building.

One gathering is a line of people waiting for weeks to yell and scream at a sporting event. It's fun and victory gives us all a momentary high. The other is a small, but dedicated group of student activists agitating for better working conditions for garment workers. This is an important cause, and victory could actually change the lives of people who have been exploited by their employers, and by extension, the universities that hold the garment licenses. The contrast in student interest and attention apparent in these two events clearly belies the University's designation as the most activist campus in the United States by Mother Jones magazine.

But perhaps I am creating a false dichotomy since there is nothing that prevents a Duke student from tenting and agitating at the same time. In fact, last year I was one of the K-ville residents who jammed yams for the hungry in exchange for a weekend grace period. Certainly, the efforts of the Community Service Center and all the students and workers involved have combined to bring about real change in this region. But this does not completely address the fact that, everyday on this campus, major political concerns are ignored by undergraduates for a myriad of reasons, ranging from basketball and bid parties to academic work and-the big kahuna-student apathy.

For example, why has Duke Student Government been unable to stop student organizations from going ahead with their plans to go to Myrtle Beach at the end of the academic year? Whatever your position is on the American version of the swastika, I think that every student agrees that the traditional campus-wide trip is fun because everyone goes. On the shores of Myrtle, we recreate the Gothic Wonderland community, only with sand and an ocean. That vision is imperiled now that some groups have said that they will honor the NAACP's South Carolina tourism boycott, and others refuse. If two Duke beach parties take place in two different states this May, they will largely segregated, color-coded affairs. This is an obvious problem that cries for a solution.

However, apathy persists. The original DSG resolution that had some teeth behind it failed. Most social groups that are oriented toward white students will not cancel their reservations in South Carolina. Our protest rallies, our political meetings, our reform-minded campus speakers suffer from low attendance. The great outrages that should command our attention somehow manage to elude it consistently. I don't understand it.

I imagine that a horrible, subversive force has engulfed our gray and gabled campus. Throughout the labyrinthine dormitory halls of campus, looming over the roofs of those buildings, lurking in the corners and shadows of the gothic architecture, there is a noxious atmosphere. It feeds our complacency and fosters our satisfaction with the status quo. It focuses our attention on trivial concerns, while the most important solutions are out of reach of a dedicated-but undersupported-minority.