More than a few things have changed since I first visited Duke five years ago. The main quad is calmer, the basketball team is better and we have a nice gym.
And some things haven't: I saw a school searching for its identity, devoid of philosophy behind policy, deeply divided between employee and student, greek and independent and each of its races. I saw a school with an inferiority complex as hulking as its new research center.
Typically, journalists are restricted from stating nearly any opinion to preserve, at the least, the perception of objectivity, so that reporting can appear untainted by biased thoughts. Perception is crucial to a journalist's role--everyone knows you are not really impartial. But the most important thing is always the product--critical, high-quality, balanced stories that tell us something about the place we live or the people we live with.
The trouble at Duke University is simple: Perception is more important than product; image is more important than identity.
I have sat through hundreds of hours of meetings with students and administrators, I have written thousands of column-inches of stories and edited 10 times more. And I know one thing above all else.
Duke's problems, its inaction, its disgraceful culture are solely attributable to our collective commitment to preserving image in changing times, at nearly any cost.
Duke decisions, whether made by students or faculty or others, all follow the same paradigm. Purported leaders tie up decisions in committee or discussion, hoping to avoid taking any substantive action or statement for fear of having to defend their stances. Eventually, when pressed for action, they take no philosophical stance and release as nondescript a policy or action as possible, so that they can jump among all sides of a philosophical debate.
Think of greek life, judicial policy, alcohol, student-faculty interaction, unproctored exams, course evaluations, allowing students more use of athletic facilities.
When is the last time one of our leaders--our president, for example--took a principled, public stand on a substantive Duke issue? I can't remember one, and I've been following them pretty closely.
Where are they?
They're with nearly all the other members of this community.
Look under the bushes, pick up your table or chair. They're ducking for cover. They are afraid of taking a stand, one way or the other, because they might get questioned, because people might remember their principled stand, because their colleagues might run away, leaving them alone with a morally defensible, and probably quite intelligent, position.
They do this because they can. They do it because we have a culture where we don't want accountability, because if we did, that means we would have to do our part, too.
They do it for their image, so that they can be the people's dean or president or student-leader. In doing all this, they turn out to be nothing of the sort--suave fundraisers or no-good handshakers or smiling faces whose principles and accomplishments turn out as vacuous as a nine-year-old's.
I should not misrepresent my experience--I have enjoyed many of my days here and I have learned as much from my hours at The Chronicle and my time with its staff as I could have in 40 years of study.
As a reporter and editor, I have met and worked with a handful of good and great administrators, employees, faculty members and students, some in the highest positions of leadership. What makes them great is their recognition of the constraints Duke places on them and their colleagues.
But in my time here, I have witnessed only three people--senior Jordan Bazinsky on same-sex unions, Tico Almeida, Trinity '99, on sweatshops, and Provost Peter Lange on Curriculum 2000 and the long-range plan--take substantive, principled action from start to finish, dodging bullets and standing ground while incorporating suggestion and pushing on.
Where are our teachers? These are the three--they are our community's only models for real decision making, real leadership, real morals.
This culture silences not people, but ideas, ideas like maybe the athletic department should not be the most autonomous, unaccountable division on campus, ideas like maybe Duke should not apologize so much for all the work it does to help minority groups.
One day, I'm sure that Duke name, and the image that surrounds it, will land me a fine job or a nice seat at a prestigious graduate school.
And that day, maybe all this will come together into an acceptable reality. But I can't see it now. There's a shameful image in the way.
Greg Pessin is a Trinity senior and editor of The Chronicle. Like his predecessors, he aches with the knowledge that he will never be either again.
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