I would be willing to bet that, in most any other locality in the United States, the man known as “President Bush” is referred to simply as such. In Texas, perhaps “Dubya.”

Here, it’s “Bsshh.” No salutation or given name necessary. An unwavering but slightly inflected hiss. “Did you see Bsshh’s speech last night?” “Boy, that Bsshh sure is full of sshh*t.”

Not an abuse of language, however disrespectful it may be. Not an abuse because it certainly is an accurate descriptor for the state of social consciousness in which we live. The man isn’t well liked in this community. By many, he’s virilently despised. They want to yell and sneer. Ultimately, they just hiss.

Vernacular does that. It reflects how we perceive that to which we refer. In the microcosmal world of a university, it shapes our interpretation of “campus climate.”

* * * * * *

Does it get any more loaded?

How exactly does one gauge the campus climate? Many well-intentioned hands are wrung in Bascom over the issue. Recently, I read a long, printed interview given by one of the most prominent sets of those hands; it was an exposé on the ins and outs of our current climatological state and our efforts to improve it.

Left me wondering … does campus climate increase when air temperature around the campus increases, or when one member of the campus community becomes disgruntled with the actions of another, or both? I suppose it has to be both, because the literal term “campus climate” can’t be completely separated from the socially constructed “campus climate.”

If this is the case, how do we measure the various intermingling physical and social forces that act upon our “campus climate?” If my roommate repeatedly issues “cotinuous streams of gasseous effluent,” raising our campus apartment’s room temperature and simultaneously stirring me, a member of the “campus community,” into a state of extreme discomfort, does this have a dual action effect on the campus climate as a whole? Are white Anglo-Saxon Protesant males allowed to be affected by adverse climatological conditions? Should my roommate seek sensitivity training or Bean-O? Such is a paradox not easily resolved. …

* * * * * *

All absurdities aside, in a university famous for its sifting and winnowing, I’m constantly amazed at what we can sift out of and winnow away from the written and spoken word. Language’s power to elevate and lower, to add and detract from the social consciousness, is painful to see manipulated at an institution where fervent pursuit of the truth is championed above all else.

As a simple point of language, and as a method in fighting our “diversity” issue, why don’t we call races by what they are? I am white, a Caucasian. I am not an Irish American, though you can travel through the city of O’Cullen in the southern portion of that country. I am a native American. Though I plan to go one day, I’ve never set foot in Ireland.

In turn, most persons we refer to as “African American” have never seen Africa in their lives; neither had their great grandfathers. So perhaps they’re “black Americans.” But this does them no justice. Their state of being black, or white or yellow or purple or what have you, bears no connection to their Americanism. Though both are states of being, one is a pigment, the other an ideal.

Perhaps the term we seek is “American who happens to be black” or “American whose hue is white.” But that’s so cumbersome and disconnected. I’ll stick to American first, color second — and even then only if necessary. More often than not, the distinction doesn’t deserve recognition by colliding on common terms.

But here and now, it seems, social convenience proves more compelling than truthful communication. Make concrete issues malleable, lest we offend.

Honesty is the victim. We’ve killed it by a thousand cuts.

Matt Morin, the mysteriously removed Witte housefellow of last semester, knows this. He learned it the hard way.

With respect to funding for the LGBT Campus Center, Morin said in front of the Student Services Finance Committee, “I’ve been involved in the planning of many of these programs. I understand these services are indeed valuable … but to how many people are these valuable? As a housefellow, I’ve run LGBT programs and have seen very small turnout. It is becoming increasingly apparent that this issue may not serve the greater campus community. How many people does this actually serve? I don’t believe this program warrants additional funding….”

A loophole and a rat-out later, he finds himself out of a job and out on the street.

Now, we have the associate vice chancellor’s office for Diversity and Climate. On its face, this might sound innocuous enough.

Job description? Open ended. Mission statement? Muddled.

The new occupant of the post, Bernice Durand, will, among other things, “develop ways to evaluate current practices and policies, develop accountability measures and collect benchmarking information,” says a University Communications press release.

How malleable.

How convenient.

Eric Cullen ([email protected]) is a sophomore majoring in political science and history.