We don't know how to communicate. Man, oh man guys, we have no idea. Things happen: someone says something that pisses us off, makes us uncomfortable, offends us, whatever, and we just shut down. (A disclaimer: I don't believe in being offended. It seems like a device used to shut other people up. "I'm offended, so shut up and stop saying whatever you're saying." Kid's stuff).
Don't get me wrong. We know a few things. We know how to protest. You see those anti-war protesters blocking the traffic circle last year? That was a protest all right. But, unfortunately, it wasn't exactly a communication coup. "We're doing it to spread awareness about the war," the protesters told us. But did it accomplish anything? Well, it made the protesters look dogmatic, and it alienated a few people with the intensity of its rhetoric who otherwise might have agreed with the anti-war cause. Was this progress?
We know how to call for punishment, too. Sigma Chi throws this "Viva Mexico" party--we want sanctions! The Chronicle prints David Horowitz's reparations ad back in 2001--let's make the editor resign! And while protest and punishment are forms of communication (both send a message) neither involve dialogue (neither, conveniently, involve listening, either).
Truth is, when it comes to engaging in discussion with people we don't agree with or don't understand, the Duke "community" gets a big, fat F. Professors don't often help matters, either. When conflict arises, they get all riled up, too, and it seems no matter what the conflict---David Horowitz, Laura Whitehorn, Kick Jessica Rutter Out of Duke--the faculty voices we consistently hear loudest are the least constructive, regardless of what political side they come from.
I'm guilty of all this, too, of course. You should've seen me a few weeks ago when Nathan Carelton's "Gay? Not Fine By Me" column debuted. I helped start the "Fine By Me" tee-shirt project; it was, in my mind, a great success; and here was this guy ranting about "mind control" and alleging his rights were being violated because I asserted my own. I was boiling, and in no mood to "discuss" much of anything. So what do we do about this communication disease plaguing Duke?
Well, the real way to improve communication on campus, to build community, isn't to harangue each other about our problems with one another (we're not there yet), but to learn how to have fun with each other. That's right--fun. Maybe you guys heard that word back when you were little?
See, you don't build community by posting SAFE stickers on office doors, or by sponsoring multicultural theme days or through Black History Month or Coming Out Week or by having the token poor/Latino/lesbian speak to your fraternity so you do all right on the Annual Review. You build community by socializing with one another. And I'm not talking about getting people of different races or classes or sexual orientations or political ideologies together with a white board and discussing "diversity." I'm talking about real, live socializing: going out for a drink, staying up late talking, throwing a party and inviting all your neighbors. Having fun.
It's funny, too, how much less angry you become with someone once you're face-to-face with them. I ran into Nathan Carelton the other day, and he actually seemed like an okay guy. To get to the point where we can talk honestly with each other about the serious issues facing us. We need to, like, meet each other, prove to each other we're all human, that none of us bite. Too often, legitimate discussions that should take place face-to-face in the Great Hall, in the Bryan Center, in (gasp!) the classroom, are instead fought pseudo-anonymously as battles on the pages of The Chronicle.
Which brings me to recent actions on the part of University administrators to move (intentionally or not) Duke social life virtually off-campus--from the 1995 kegs-on-the-quad ban to recent calls for more closed fraternity parties--or to destroy Duke social life altogether (throwing parties off-campus with the Durham police on high alert acting as if al Qaeda might be planning them has turned into a big league pain-in-the-butt).
This turn of events is unfortunate because I think administrators are ultimately trying to do the right thing by making Duke less fraternity-centered. It's a pretty archaic system we had here, and I don't think it was a system, despite popular belief, that the majority of Duke students were all that dependent on. But in slowly eliminating the fraternities, the administration seems to becoming dangerously close to taking the fun out of campus life. This isn't because the fraternities are the only groups that can provide that fun (I have fun most weekends and it's almost never at a frat party), but rather because they're providing no exciting alternative for students on-campus.
That's too bad, because it cuts down on the possibility of having a good time on-campus, and it's in that possibility for fun wherein lies the possibility of building a stronger Duke community. The administration seems to view parties as a problem--they discourage big ones and any on-campus festivity needs to be monitored closely. In truth, parties can be part of the solution.
You guys up in the Allen Building want to build community? Throw a University-sponsored keg party on Main West. Invite everyone (Pauly, too, because come 2 a.m. people are gonna want some hot dogs). Make it last all night. No big, inflatable moon walks for us to jump on. No games, no raffles, no prizes. Just a good, old-fashioned blow-out with music, and beer, caffeine and Pauly dogs. I'm not talking about reverting back to so-called "Old Duke"; this is not a frat party I'm proposing.
I'm talking about a New New Duke--an independent-centered Duke, an academic Duke, but not a Duke devoid of fun. And not a dry Duke, either. Not because I think alcohol should dominate our social lives; it shouldn't and it certainly doesn't dominate mine. But this is tough stuff we're dealing with--this communication business--and beer, ta da!, actually does loosen people up a little. We may not be so good at talking to each other, but we can drink okay and (some of us, though maybe not me) can dance, and we can laugh, and that's a start. Not a solution, but a pretty damn good start.
I know---you're worried about liability, and it's a legitimate concern. But in the long-run, the real liability to this University and to this world is graduating class after class of students who don't know how to communicate, don't know how to socialize, don't know how to have fun with people they may disagree with, or people they don't understand. So think about it. Really. I think it might do us some good.
And in the meantime, Nathan, I'm proposing dinner and calm yet passionate discussion. Not trying to prove I'm right; just trying to get you to see what I'm saying and interested in what you're saying because it didn't make all that much sense to me when I read it on these pages. How's 6 p.m. Thursday at the Loop? Beer's on me.
Lucas Schaefer is a Trinity senior. He is a regular Chronicle columnist.
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