I’ve long been of the opinion that so-called “campus culture” problems get vastly more attention than they deserve, and I made a vow never to dedicate a column to them. I break that vow today.
Three conversations prompted this about-face. In December, a Dukes and Duchesses friend of mine related that at a dinner she attended with several trustees discussion of the “moral tone” of the University dominated conversation.
At the February President’s Forum on Campus Life a student asked Dean Sue to what extent the University considered an approach of teaching “moral and ethical standards” in the classroom as a strategy to prevent future marriages between fratty minors and porta potties. Dean Sue’s response, disappointingly, limited itself to a reminder that the whole “work hard-play hard” thing is a bad motto.
Finally, just before Spring break, I sat down with another friend to discuss ways in which we might foster “moral courage” among students at Duke. Our conversation was frustrating, not least because of our inability to think of quick fixes.
In talking to her, I raised the idea of personal honor. I really started to think about the potential of that term, that principle at Duke—and I haven’t stopped since.
The examples so often bandied about as typically poor campus culture are the product of the behavior of a miniscule and constantly changing portion of our campus population. The so-called problems do not stem from anything approaching systemic flaws in our campus life and are absolutely no different from behaviors occasionally encountered on every college campus in the country.
This is not to say, of course, that we can’t do better.
We need a real honor system at Duke. Honor must be infused in our academic lives. A culture of honor must be as firmly embraced by our administration as has the culture of civic engagement. Our student Honor Council must be radically overhauled. It’s time that students be given the responsibility for handling affairs of honor.
Thomas Jefferson wrote the first honor code in America at the College of William and Mary. General Robert E. Lee, when president of Washington and Lee, introduced an honor code there saying, “We have but one rule here, and it is that every student must be a gentleman.”
Would a gentleman (or gentlewoman) catalogue sexual escapades? Dangerously intoxicate a friend’s little brother? Address a note “Dear Bitches?” Harass an individual because of his or her sexual orientation?
The thing about successful honor systems, though, is that they are wholly managed by students. The honor councils at schools with serious honor systems are composed of students (and sometimes a couple of faculty members) who investigate whether or not a breach of the honor code occurred and, if it has, determine the most appropriate consequences. In addition to William and Mary and Washington and Lee, the University of Virginia, the University of Texas at Austin, Vanderbilt University and the University of North Carolina all have honor systems with robust honor codes and student-run honor councils.
I cringed when I read about the mass cheating that occurred in a Chemistry 31 class last semester. But I really don’t think an investigation by the Office of Student Conduct did much good righting the wrong perpetrated against our community.
No offense to the dedicated individuals who enforce the rules here, but the same office is responsible for policy violations ranging from the breaking of a glass beer bottle to cheating on an exam. How much responsibility do I feel to these functionaries? Not much.
But what if when I cheated I had to face my fraternity brothers, or that professor who wrote my law school recommendation or that cute girl I’m working with on my group project in global health? I’d have a lot more to consider before cheating, personally.
Our Community Standard was an admirable attempt to bring an honor system to Duke. It has all the right ingredients of a robust honor code. But, frankly, students have not asked for—much less been given—appropriate ownership of it. Our premier Community Standard-concerned student group is the Honor Council, and they are charged merely with “informing” the community and “promoting” the Community Standard.
That’s a far cry from a student-owned honor system.
I am by no means arguing that we ought to adopt any other school’s honor system. We ought to design our own, one that truly instills honor among students by accountability to our peers.
Our institution has a tortured history with honor systems, having one on-again, off-again until 1965 when it was abolished then brought back in forms of varying meaninglessness from 1982 to the present. In reviewing my notes from the February President’s Forum, however, I found this gem: President Brodhead said that, perhaps, we might move Duke in a better direction if we more consciously used “the old-fashioned language of honor.” Perhaps President Brodhead could do for Duke what Jefferson and Lee did for their schools.
Gregory Morrison is a Trinity senior and the former Executive Vice President of DSG. His column runs every Monday.
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