We've heard so much during the past six months about the so-called "culture of crassness" at Duke. More specifically, undergraduates have been assigned what Rev. Sam Wells, Dean of the Chapel, called a "subculture of reckless 'entitlement,' sexual acquisitiveness and aggressive arrogance."
Of course, these social tensions are hardly unique to this University. Without a doubt, our struggle has become public in light of the lacrosse scandal.
But we don't get off that easily. After all, it's Duke-and not any other top-10 institution-that consistently ranks among the top colleges with "Little Race/Class Interaction" and where "Town/Gown Relations Are Strained" in surveys like those conducted by the Princeton Review.
What, then, is it about this place that fosters the culture of I Am Charlotte Simmons and Rolling Stone's lacrosstitutes? And why is the notorious debauchery and bacchanalia concentrated among a minority of students?
The answer is that these problems are systematic-and not cultural-in origin. Indeed, this intractable "culture of crassness" is situated directly atop the friction between the academic and non-academic missions of this University.
Encapsulating this struggle is the current discussion regarding differential admissions policies, especially Duke's acknowledged preference for the children of wealthy non-alumni. Clearly, all universities need money to operate, and this approach has proven an effective way to solicit large donations.
But by reinforcing the privilege already enjoyed by wealthy, almost universally white students, this policy (which is compounded by legacy and athletic preferences) virtually guarantees the presence of smoldering racial and socio-economic resentments on campus.
Add administrators' passive-aggressive approach to housing and alcohol policies to this mix, and we uncover the ugly truth: Although our much-cited "campus culture problem" belongs to students, it was born of policy shortcomings entirely outside of our control.
Indeed, before freshmen have ever set foot on campus, some of them are already more equal than others. Most have been admitted under one set of standards, while others were measured against an entirely different set of non-standards.
Our thriving greek system then codifies these social divisions, and housing policies that cede large parts of West Campus to fraternities and selective living groups make them visible.
Lastly, poorer and unaffiliated students are relegated to Central Campus as juniors and seniors. I very much enjoy living on Central; but I do wonder how wise it is to encourage the perception that large numbers of unaffiliated and minority students live here, literally situated outside the University's core.
Of course, this is compounded by an alcohol policy that has made liquor distribution inaccessible to all but the largest student groups. This further consolidates social options and drives the most dangerous behavior off campus. Like many other students, I find this alcohol policy to be an uninspired approach to a deeply rooted problem. Nonetheless, it's worth considering the source of the sense of entitlement and arrogance at the heart of our drinking culture. Perhaps we've seen it before.
Our attempts to transform alcohol and housing policies have not been without success.
Since East was remade into an all-freshman campus, first-year students have enjoyed unprecedented levels of unity and contentment; the success of the Focus program only compounds these benefits.
Moreover, considering the fact that we recycle fully one-fourth of our student body each year, and that all undergraduates move on within four or five years, it's clear that Duke could never have a truly "fixed" culture. With 1,600 new Blue Devils arriving each August, we are constantly reinvented. Clearly our campus culture is exactly what we make of it.
It is with sadness, then, that I've watched the process of self-segregation unfold within my own class; the social divisions that have emerged since our haphazard transition onto West Campus have all but obliterated the benefits of the East Campus experiment. Nevertheless, this renewed focus on our campus culture's underlying problems inspires optimism.
Previous successes have proven that we do not lack bright and innovative ideas. By channeling these, we can address the policy shortcomings that underlie our social conflicts. But all of the cosmetic fixes in the world will only be palliative so long as we refuse to acknowledge what is already true: The problems with our "culture" are system-wide.
Kristin Butler is a Trinity junior. Her column runs every Friday.
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