Want to make a College of Communication student laugh? Ask if he plans to donate to Boston University after graduation.
After draining $150,000 in the university’s pockets, we proud COM students will walk gracefully off campus and into a crowded and unwelcoming job market, doubtful that we’ll ever see so much money again. Personally, I can barely wait to get that first post-graduation phone call from a BU representative, kindly requesting a check for my beloved alma mater.
Sure, baby. It’s in the mail. Click.
And while a nice, fat salary and Cuban cigar habit would be pretty sweet, it simply isn’t why I’m here. Students like me are at Boston University because the ‘real world’ is fast on our tail, and, one way or another, we plan to be ready for it when it finally catches us. When our BU days are over and done, the world will be a less scary place. We’ll have knowledge and a spiffy certificate. We’ll be bona fide.
It’s easy to forget all of this when things turn political, as they often do at Boston University. Wouldn’t you know, too, that this would be the university’s most political year since John Silber resigned as president?
Perhaps you’ve heard by now that Silber ordered the BU Academy to cut its gay-straight support group. You may also have read the chancellor’s comments about women: BU needs fewer of them, he says. Students, accustomed to the status quo Jon Westling so cautiously preserved, have quickly rediscovered the old BU spirit, which tends to manifest pretty much whenever Silber opens his mouth.
The events play out fairly predictably. Newspapers roll out Silber’s latest shocker, propelling students to curse his name in formal petitions, letters to the editor and clever buttons. Most students, however, realize the futility of waging a battle of words with a Kantian scholar and long-feared political bureaucrat. The School of Law students who criticized Silber last month learned this lesson after the chancellor tore apart their argument line by line, slicing all the meticulous efficiency of … well, a good lawyer. Talk is cheap when the university is your audience. If you want to make your voice heard, you need to strike close to the heart.
The obvious target is the university’s bankbook. The law students saw it this way and immediately threatened to withhold donations if the BU Academy GSA was not reinstated. Cheryl Jacques, an openly gay state senator, called on alumni to do the same, arguing in a speech last Tuesday, ‘Money talks. Money has power.’
That’s the philosophy that has driven many of the recent protests at Boston University. When the administration refused to amend BU’s non-discrimination policy, the campus’ gay support group threatened to campaign for clamping alumni purses. The same thing happened when BU cut its football program five years ago.
For the most part, these threats are entirely empty. Anti-administration passion dissolves fast, and most grudges are forgotten without notice. Despite the many threats, students don’t hold true to their vows. Alumni giving has been on the rise for years.
Still, it’s frightening to think how narrow-minded so many protesters, including an elected official, can be. In threatening to withhold donations, the outraged are burning the wrong village. They’re punishing tomorrow’s student body while weakly continuing payment toward their own education.
Take my word for it when I say that depriving BU of your donations will not cause enrollment to decline. It won’t lower Silber’s salary, and it won’t start the university on a path toward destruction. Fewer alumni contributions simply means fewer benefits for future students, who might not receive the generous financial aid today’s students enjoy.
Protesters calling for a donation ban seem to think all alumni contributions are pooled in a central vault in Silber’s bedroom. The truth is, each college within the university organizes its own donation drives, and the money the schools raise goes to renovating academic facilities, funding special programs and doling out student aid. Donors generally have the option of earmarking their dollars for specific purposes, meaning anyone who doesn’t want to fund Silber’s new office doesn’t have to.
There’s a bit of hypocrisy in the current students’ threats. These students gladly accept the benefits of their BU education and have the audacity to threaten upcoming students’ abilities to do the same. There’s little sacrifice in that. Students’ power is in ripping up the checks we currently send to the university, not in threatening to pocket checks we may or may not send in the future.
Clearly, though, there are better ways to fight. The key is knowing where to launch the first strike. Where the BU Academy GSA is concerned, the obvious focal point is the academy students.
Silber can eliminate a recognized school organization, but he can’t stop students from getting together and discussing gay issues. Discussion does not need to stop once the sponsorship evaporates, and it shouldn’t. GSA advocates are too focused on Silber’s politics. They have forgotten the students who need nothing more than peer support. If a venue is offered, the meetings don’t have to end.
What would Silber do if he found 100 BUA students assembling on their own time? What if throngs of university students, armed with experience and resources, organized it with them? What if Silber realized how utterly powerless he is to keep students from developing their sexuality?
That, I think, would be an accomplishment I’d proudly take with me.
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