Now that the Undergraduate Council's fall elections have finally concluded, we can expect a much-needed reprieve from the frivolous debate that surrounded it. Optimistically, we can hope for more enlightened discourse about the future of the council and its ultimate role within the student body. But realistically, there is a disturbing sense that this year will not bring any significant progress to the area of student government.

This year's council--like the others before it--consists of eager first-years, weary upperclass students and confused leadership. It is a council plagued with an abysmally low voter turnout and thus diminished legitimacy among students and administration. It is a council pestered by biased campus media and outspoken critics overly anxious to pounce on the slightest mishap and play down even the most notable achievements. And most troubling, it is a council that exists within a constituency of students who seemingly just don't give a damn.

Contributing to the council's rapidly declining campus presence is a static debate lacking substance and misguided by simplistic solutions. Critics, who belittle the organization as incompetent and ineffectual, say the answer lies in focusing on larger issues instead of trivial whims. Others insist that the problem lies in an "apathetic" student body and that only by increasing voter turnout can the council can achieve the legitimacy it needs.

It is important to note that these oversimplified solutions have roots in two seemingly divergent conceptions about the role of out student government, namely a "politicized" council as opposed to one that is "de-politicized." Although both forms are inherently political, those who argue for the former think the council should operate with a deeper ideological awareness of Harvard's position as an global intellectual influence. A "politicized" council should focus on issues like Faculty diversity and divestment from Nigeria. A "de-politicized" council, on the other hand, is one which exists to serve its constituents by addressing tangible quality of life issues. In this model, the council should represent student interests by lobbying for such benefits as extended shuttle service and flyby lunches. This latter model most accurately describes the council's present state.

There are times when these two conceptions might be united under a common cause. But the consensus is that these paradigms are inherently irreconcilable. Consequentially, discourse about the council has become polarized and alarmingly stagnant.

There is, however, an alternative to the prevalent dichotomy. This alternative, which I will call the "empowerment" model, draws its strength from elements of both the "political" and "de-political" paradigms. In this model, the council addresses both large and small issues, but in such a way that it actively engages the student body. Instead of attempting to influence University policy through direct lobbying, it brings substantive issues back to its constituents in order to facilitate public deliberation and student activism. Working closely with other student organizations, it fosters a greater sense of campus community as well as regained legitimacy among University policymakers and fellow peers.

Before developing this alternative model further, it is necessary to make the assertion that--contrary to popular belief--Harvard students are not inherently apathetic about extra-campus issues. It is true that most undergraduates have occupied themselves with a plethora of academic, extracurricular and social endeavors. But, if given the chance, most students welcome the opportunity to talk about affirmative action, faculty diversity and human rights.

In this sense, the impetus behind the "de-politicized" view--that students care only about shuttle service and frozen yogurt--is flawed. In fact, rather than decrease student apathy, a "de-politicized" council has actually increased it. "You can only get excited about cable TV for so long," remarked one council member last year.

On the other hand, the real problem with the "politicized" view is that the council does not adequately represent the political, ethical and moral views of the student body. Council representatives are elected by a small minority (usually friends or blockmates) and on platforms that are, if anything, hardly substantive. This year was no different. As a result, the council is not in a position where it can legitimately serve as a student voice for influencing university policy.

In the empowerment model, however, the council would address substantive issues by bringing them home to the students in the form of education and facilitated discourse. This council would organize forums on race relations, increase faculty-student dialogue on the Core and sponsors informative seminars on the effects of the new financial aid policy or pending education-related legislation. It establishes strong ties with groups close to the students themselves, such as house committees, special-interest organizations and the campus media.

So far, we have yet to see any sort of substantive debate on any of the myriad rallying calls like "Faculty diversity," "core reform" or "universal keycard access." But this is the kind of thing students are yearning for. We saw this last year when students packed into Sanders Theater to hear a discussion on affirmative action. Looking around campus this year, we see scores of students signing up for the IOP-sponsored forums, dedicating their time to various organizations with politically or socially-motivated aims. Apathetic? Hardly.

When the council begins to engage the student body actively, it begins to regain some of its lost legitimacy among the administration. "I don't take the [council's] vote as a representative vote," remarked Dean of the College Harry R. Lewis '68 last year. "The people who are casting [council] votes do not have to represent those who elect them." But what would our Dean say if the council's recommendation had roots in a significant campus-wide dialogue? By allowing administrative policy to become subject to greater student scrutiny, the council could do more to effect changes than if they had tried directly to effect it themselves.

This is not to say that our student government should ignore the more tangible, quality of life issues. Indeed, without the work of the council, we would probably not be enjoying extended shuttle service and longer library hours. But these endeavors have been largely the work of determined individuals. As organizational entity, the role of our student government should be more than that of a glorified lobbyist. We need to dispell the somewhat self-perpetuated belief that the council is inherently limited in its scope and influence. "The council is, at best, the institution that makes Fly-By lunches and Core reform possible," wrote one former member of the council in a letter to The Crimson. If this is the case, the cause is lost from the start.

As an umbrella organization, the council has near-limitless potential. As an organization that actively engages the student body--instead of simply relying on them as a source of superficial legitimacy--it can transcend being labeled as "political" or "de-political." A council that empowers its constituency also empowers itself.

Richard S. Lee '01, a Crimson editor, is a social studies concentrator in Pforzheimer House.