Taking It Seriously

By Joseph Rago | Sunday, April 11, 2004

Christopher J. Bateman, a member of the class of 2005, recently circulated an e-mail advertisement titled "Recycle Your Dartmouth Review!" In an endearing little pitch, he asks, "Are you tired of having to deal with those copies of the Dartmouth Review continually being dropped outside your door? Does its mere presence offend you? Want to do something good for the environment?"

As the title of his message suggests, Mr. Bateman has cooked up an ingenious solution for those who respond positively to his inquiries. He's cobbled together a band of "progressive, environmentally friendly students" who will fan out over campus when this paper is distributed, round up select copies, and—get this—recycle them. I admire his synergy. Finally, he's stumbled upon common Cause for those who are "progressive" and "environmentally friendly."

I'll leave aside for the moment the merits of the recycling service and discuss Mr. Bateman. I must confess: I've not met him and I don't know too much about him. But I've read with interest his content in various campus publications. I enjoyed an article he wrote about his fondness for "Afro-Peruvian polyrythms," though a piece about his disdain for investment banking and investment bankers left me confounded. He's also written a delightful restaurant review in which he refers to himself as a "fanatical gourmand of Taco Bell."

I'm hardly qualified to comment on the merits of "T-Bell" (his phrase), as I tend to steer clear of (a) fanaticism, (b) ethnic food, and (c) Grade-F meat served out of plastic squeezebottles. I find it hard to believe, however, that Señor Bateman actually enjoys the place. I think it's meant to be a joke—a brief flash of "humor" (if an especially lame one) in an otherwise humorless mindset. Vox clamantis in deserto and all.

I'll bet Mr. Bateman is a serious, earnest guy. After all, he's basically started a club for people who are "offended" by the "mere presence" of "those copies" of a campus publication. He's not alone. His personality seems to be the prevailing one at Dartmouth these days, and, worse, it appears to be spreading. People here love taking things seriously that should be taken lightly, and taking things lightly that should be taken seriously.

All of the Dartmouth a cappella groups were recently summoned for a stern talking-to, at the request of President James Wright. The image of the a cappella community has apparently been "tarnished," and the transgressions are grievous. One group displayed photographs of kangaroos engaged in sexual intercourse. Another put up posters for a show with a beer bottle on it. Most egregiously, one troupe "corrupted" an all-girls boarding school with an inappropriate on-the-road performance.

The reprimands prompted action. A performing arts group was brow-beaten into distributing a submissive apology for an "an inappropriate comment" made during a show. Then, a dance ensemble was "heartfully sorry" for using the phrase "booty poppin in a handstand." I don't know what it means either, but evidently it is demeaning to women. As they explained in the aftermath, they would stick to "pleasing our public with our dancing."

To top things off, near the end of last term Carol Bushway, an employee of the Student Life bureaucracy, circulated an e-mail "alert" concerning an African-American student who returned to her dorm room one evening to find dry dog food strewn about the foot of her door. Reporting on behalf of Holly Sateia (the Dean of Student Life) and Tommy Lee Woon (the Dean of Pluralism and Leadership), Ms. Bushway called the encounter a "disturbing incident."

Ms. Bushway describes herself as—and here I am completely serious—"bortaS blr jablu'DI' reH QaQqu'nay." I'm told her bizarre moniker references a particularly bad science-fiction movie, though I can't remember which one (the competition is so stiff.) In the same way as Mr. Bateman's foray onto the Food Page, maybe it's a joke too: a sad way of informing people that, despite her occupation, she too has a sense of humor.

I'd hope that Ms. QaQqu'nay chuckled to herself when she received the "news" of the dog food dump and that she and her cohorts were humoring this poor girl. But I doubt it. Most sensitivities on the Hanover Plain are over-calibrated to take the most trivial marginalia as "disturbing." Students here become fatigued "dealing" with, of all things, newspapers. Doorsteps, remember,are serious business these days.

We're back to Christopher Bateman. I, too, could take him and his service seriously. But I won't. To argue with his sort of thinking would be as tedious as it would pointless. So do I want to do something good for the environment? In a word, no.

The Review, to be sure, has always been opposed to "the environment." As the cover suggests, we were personally responsible for the extinction of the dodo bird. Rolled up, this paper is rather useful for clubbing baby seals. And it's already printed on one-hundred per cent non-recycled paper. But for this edition, I've taken it a step further. I've had my publisher insert a small plastic strip into every issue that makes it impossible to recycle. Mr. Bateman and his crack team of environmentalists can do their best, by which I mean do their worst, for the environment. At most, they'll be able to throw the paper away and contribute to our nation's burgeoning waste problem. In the meantime, I would advise them—and the College in general—to take it easy.

Taking It Seriously

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