Maybe it's just a sad commentary on human nature, but people sure seem to enjoy having a common object of ridicule. Harvard of course is no exception. P.C. had its day, until people realized how few truly P.C. individuals they actually encountered. The Society of Nerds and Geeks used to be the butt for many a barb, but heaping scorn on them is now considered passe. Besides, only the truly meanspirited could be harsh on a group so willing to go through self-deprecation at a campus where students take themselves far too seriously.
Considering that the Red Sox' pathetic season stopped being funny long ago and that Republican strategists have not yet scheduled a Cambridge visit for the vice president, Harvard students, as usual, are left to rag on the Undergraduate Council. Most students don't know or even care all that much about it, but some vignettes from last year's council speak for themselves:
Soul-searching debates accompanied the $20 earmarked to publicize a Spin Doctors concert which council treasurer Michael P. Beys '94 helped organize. Pontification on the same scale was absent following the De La Soul fiasco which lost enough money to buy at least 20 kegs of beer for each house. (Which expenditure would have been better for Harvard's social life? Hmmm.)
The ad hoc committee on security intimidated even the most hardened of potential muggers with a council-funded poster-drawing contest, complete with prizes. Casino Night, a successful and well-planned council social event, despite a $10 admission fee and hundreds of attendees, still somehow managed to lose plenty of money.
In just a few days, U.C. representative campaigns begin. Students can probably expect the usual. Kinko's wide range of neon colors will brighten the campus, featuring bad top-ten lists and trite, self-serving words like "commitment," "dedication" and "experience."
Most likely, fewer than 110 people will run for 88 representative positions. Why does an organization so obsessed with publicity have so much trouble informing perspective representatives how to run for office? The people responsible for publicizing general elections are council members themselves who hold an obvious interest in limiting competition for their own reelection. In the end, U.C. representatives will be elected, about half of whom served last year and about half of whom are government concentrators.
At the Undergraduate Council's opening meeting, elections for the student government's top four positions will take place. Political speeches will be given by experienced council members dressed in their finest semi-formal attire. They will cleverly combine references to pop culture, jokes originally written for Jay Leno and attacks on the U.C.'s dauntless persecutor (The Crimson). The winners, as always, will be those candidates whose speeches sound remotely like what normal people actually say to one another.
At this point the council will become considerably duller, with the semester's political climax over and only the more perfunctory business of governing remaining. First-years will note that the upperclass students who so eagerly wanted to ease their arduous transitions from non-U.C. member to U.C. member are no longer stopping by their rooms, now that their elections for executive board member are over.
So-called "ad hoc" committees (originally established to deal with pressing, unavoidable issues, but at least one of which has been here longer than the Class of '93) will be recreated to give people important-sounding leadership positions for future U.C. elections and law school applications. If these ad hoc committees are fortunate, more than four people will show up for a few of their meetings. If really fortunate, these committees will do something remotely useful.
Funding for student groups and underappreciated projects like CPR courses will be doled out in undramatic fashion. Devoted members will quietly work with faculty committees to improve the life at Harvard in small ways. A "scandal" may occur, basically from one or two members doing something rash and knuckle-headed.
The Crimson will create campus celebrities out of those executive board members who give interesting quotes (I can certainly attest to this phenomenon). Certain representatives will get invited to meals with President Rudenstine. Members will gradually see the U.C. as their personal extracurricular activity rather than as a representative government. Thus, these members will become very defensive whenever any of the U.C.'s actions are criticized.
Council "insiders" and "outsiders" will emerge, arousing much unspoken jealousy. If enough council members haven't heard that those who forget history are condemned to repeat it, a band that once cracked Casey's Top 40 will perform at a poorly-attended concert. Thousands of dollars that could have otherwise gone to student organizations will therefore end up in the hands of concert promoters sleazier than anyone who ever appeared on The Howard Stern Show. Before you know it, it will be time for another semester and another round of elections for executive board positions.
Okay, so what's the point here? Believe it or not, definite value lies in joining this oft-maligned organization. Working on U.C. projects definitely hones organizational skills. Perhaps more importantly, participating in the U.C. offers experience that will certainly prove useful in whatever political environment comes your way in the future.
Whether as senators, or, more realistically, as law firm partners, professors hoping to gain tenure somewhere or simply as community members concerned about the local school committee, the U.C. can be the source for future success in your field. Most of us are familiar with the frequently recycled 60 Minutes theme of the local activist who becomes disillusioned by unforeseen politics in "the system," and who eventually abandons his or her idealistic goals. The importance of being able to deal with politics simply cannot be underestimated.
And for practice in real politics, no Harvard experience compares to participation in the U.C. The Democratic and Republican Clubs have impressively improved their organization and membership in the last few years, but the experiences they and political campaigns offer remain elements of much larger organizations. The Model Whatever groups, brilliant at what they do, are fundamentally institutions of something grander.
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