The New York Times recently examined our generation's lingusitic creations and noted that the term "p.c." was foremost among them. It stands for "politically correct"; it is the detached and cynical term used to describe attitudes which are sympathetic to the demands for sensitivity. It describes those who believe the liberal litany unquestionable; it is the modernized version of the term "knee-jerk liberal."

If before, such liberalism was denigrated as the result of rote belief, now it is said to be the product of a desire to be "correct," fashionable. It is not so much unthinking, as conniving.

In this way the cynicism projects itself onto the object of the cynicism. The term arises because we do not believe that people hold to liberal views for moral reasons. They hold to them because it is "cool." It is part of the process of stripping the morality from beliefs which once were thought to spring wholly from a moral foundation.

TO give into sensitivity is a sign of being a conformist, lacking a free mind. In this respect, it is the difference between All in the Family and Family Ties--the hip youngster now makes fun of the sensitive male, who is old.

Morton Downey's popularity derives in large part from the fact that he is not bound to any of the conventions the rest of are forced to obey, lest we be criticized of being racist or sexist. He is the mouth unchallenged, free to speak as he pleases. He gives inspiration to the timid.

The protesters are now on the other side, the courageous free spirit more likely to be conservative than liberal. It is they who now lay claim to the protections of free speech, who can claim that morality is on their side. Even The Dartmouth Review claims the privileges of the oppressed.

The success of the civil rights and women's movements has turned the world on its head. Those who challenged power are now in it, and their demands often seem unreasonable.

A classic example is the letter which Assistant Dean for Minority Affairs and Race Relations Hilda Hernandez-Gravelle recently released. Commenting on two recent incidents of racial insensitivity, she asked the campus to pay attention to its language, so as not to make others feel excluded. But the incidents she described trace the line from the old racism to the new perception of insensitivity. To many, the letter was a parody of the kind of demands which minorities now make.

The first incident was the spraying of racist graffiti on a campus wall around the time of Martin Luther King's birthday. The second was the posting of a flyer by the University Dining Hall Services advertising a "1950s night" as a chance to remember a care-free time.

If we acknowledge that the first incident was clearly offensive, we are likely to question the dean's concern about the latter event. By linking the two, is she not trivializing racism? After all, no offense was intended by referring to the 1950s as a "care-free" era. Must we always mention Jim Crow when we refer to a pre-1970 decade?

But by the same token, the dean said she was responding to student complaints. Minority students on campus took the poster to be offensive, an indication that perhaps many on campus would like to return to the 1950s when, in the words of jazz great Gil Scott-Heron, the movies were in black and white and so was everything else. The distrust is great. But we are reluctant to acknowledge that the distrust is legitimate. Somewhere along the line we have lost patience with the demand for sensitivity, and, as a result, we have become immune to those who feel injured.

In this instance nothing would be lost by showing more care. For the same reasons we have a "winter break" rather than a "Christmas holiday," the request that there not be a mindless 1950s dinner seems reasonable. Symbols do matter, if only because people take them seriously, need them to prove that their worst fears are merely that.

BUT the symbol can only do so much. Too often, it convinces those who cling to them more than those who must accept them. And if there will never be another 1950s night at a Harvard dining hall, students will no doubt attribute it to the complaints of a bunch of Black students. Not to a bunch of white people who offended them.

One day this fall The Crimson ran a small box on its front page announcing that after 115 years. The Crimson would now employ gender neutral terminology. Chairmen would now be referred to as chairs, and spokesmen would be spokespersons.

It was not a very bold step--many papers adopted such a policy long ago. It didn't signal the end of sexism at a building which has long been accused of the crime. Clearly, the change is of much less significance than the election of The Crimson's first woman president nearly a decade ago.