This is part one of a two-part series.

On the one-year anniversary of the hearing that vindicated former Vice Chancellor Paul Barrows, he continues to seek answers from the University of Wisconsin administration. Once the captain of UW's diversity initiatives, he was stripped of his rank and saw his former department gutted and his name ruined by accusations that have appear to be delusional at best. I met with Mr. Barrows to talk about where he stands now — working on lawsuits in a struggle to "clear [his] name." He is still angry, and justifiably so.

The Barrows saga is a sort of case study of who loses when politics runs amok during a crisis. It all started with sexual harassment claims against Barrows that were co-opted by former Dean of Students Luoluo Hong. It sparked a vicious cycle that left Mr. Barrows a spectator in his own fate.

First, the administration overreacted to these claims, fearful of the consequences of ignoring a high-ranking official's allegations of sexual harassment. Then state Republicans piled on Chancellor John Wiley for forcing Mr. Barrows to take sick leave when he wasn't sick, relishing the opportunity to fire yet another shot at their favorite target — UW administrators. Meanwhile, the administration continued to keep the primary evidence, an eight-page memo by Ms. Hong (that among other things, called Barrows a "Mac Daddy") secret from Mr. Barrows in an effort to be sensitive to potential victims of harassment. To stop the bleeding on the legislative front, Chancellor Wiley took harsh punitive action against Barrows based on slim evidence.

"They informed me about the existence of the Hong memo for the first time, and I went off on them," Barrows said. "How dare you hold on to this kind of crap? … You didn't get me a chance to defend myself."

Following the Academic Staff Appeals Committee hearing, it became clear the independent investigation on Mr. Barrows was rife with miscommunication along with lazy and sloppy detective work. So while Chancellor Wiley merely got reprimanded for misuse of sick leave, Mr. Barrows was left out in the cold, the veritable exhaust of a malfunctioning political machine. His case has sat on the regents' desk for 14 months.

Although Ms. Hong infamously called her UW position "toxic" before leaving to Arizona State University's West Campus in the summer of 2005, the truth is she is the one who poisoned it. What happened to Mr. Barrows is a textbook example of what happens when individuals become so obsessed with the racial or sexual inequality they face in society that they use minority status as a means to gain leverage against anyone and everyone. In her mind, every conflict was conflated to a battle of the sexes, and anyone who dared oppose her whim could be little more than a sexist. For months, Mr. Barrows worked alongside Ms. Hong, never realizing that delusions of persecution were fueling an intense effort to undermine his credibility and get him fired. She got what she wanted and sent him to the dogs — the then-Republican-controlled state Legislature. They picked him apart.

"You cannot make rational sense of what irrational people do," Mr. Barrows said when asked why Hong would author the eight-page memo that sank his career. "She is the most viscous, underhanded and conniving person that I have ever worked with in my life."

Did Barrows really deserve to have his name dragged through the mud for briefly dating a 40-year-old student? What other crime did he commit besides taking sick leave when his boss told him to?

I yearn for the day that a case like this could be seen as a botched investigation and a man's quest for vindication, rather than devolve into the racial mess it has today. But cultural stereotypes told his accusers that the brash black man who strains to maintain eye contact must have been a womanizer. They caused his accuser to literally imagine him as a "Rocky Rococo" figure in a white suit and top hat, chasing her along State Street. Stereotypes led Ms. Hong to assume he had contempt for women and authority, and to place the burden on Mr. Barrows to prove himself innocent of his cultural heritage.

By the same token, though, Mr. Barrows' anger leads him to take this argument beyond the scope in which he was persecuted, and make the same logical error as Ms. Hong.

"[State legislators] were outraged, and they will never admit it, that an African-American was making $192,000 a year in such a senior position." Barrows said. "[The press] automatically assumes the chancellor has to be right and this black guy has just got to be whining, and because he's the great white father, people give him the benefit of the doubt."

He hurts his cause by invoking the tactics of his accuser, and pinning every aspect of his mistreatment on racism — in this case, white privilege. After all, state Republicans are probably more interested in undermining UW that demoting one black administrator.

Nonetheless, Mr. Barrows didn't have the opportunity to leave the "toxic" environment that Hong had. After accepting a new position at UW, the firestorm kicked up once again, and his appointment lasted just three days. One Google search of his name proved his reputation irreparably tainted.

"They clipped my wings and told me to fly away."

Bassey Etim ([email protected]) is a junior majoring in political science and journalism.