4/20 CRACKDOWN HIGHLIGHTS ADMINISTRATIVE HOSTILITY

Last Wednesday marked the fourth year in a row in which I have
attended the informal Tisch Library roof gathering on April 20, or
"4/20" as it is affectionately called by those familiar with its
distinguished status as the international holiday of the marijuana
counterculture. Like each of the previous years, the minutes
approaching 12 a.m. and 4:20 p.m. saw a massive influx of students
proudly displaying their knitted ponchos, Bob Marley T-shirts and
glossy red eyes. But unlike each of the previous years, also in
attendance this year were various administrative deans and a large
Tufts University Police Department (TUPD) contingency. IDs were
taken, joints were stomped out and, in at least one instance, a
student was tackled and forcibly restrained (for reasons, I may add,
which entirely avoided me as I watched on in surprised disbelief).

Before I continue, I don't intend to come off as a pothead upset that
he was thwarted in his attempts to publicly engage in illegal
activity -- I personally had an exam early Wednesday morning and a
class at 4:30 that evening, which barred me from participation.
Rather, I see this, as the latest in a string of misguided decisions
on the part of the Tufts administration that highlight the divide
that exists between the student body and the powers that be. I
acknowledge that it is perfectly within the rights of Dean of Student
Affairs Bruce Reitman and others to enforce the rules that exist on
this campus in order to maintain order. I question, however, the
logic in taking aggressive measures to create a climate in which the
students at this school are placed at odds with an antagonistic
university administration. Is it sensible for the governing members
of an institution that indulges in its image as a bastion of
progressivism and liberal education to take these backward steps in
how they deal with the very students who make this campus what it is?

Since arriving at Tufts I have watched as the university has slowly
found ways to put itself increasingly at odds with its students. When
I was a freshman, each student was afforded one alcohol-related Tufts
Emergency Medical Service (TEMS) call without any punitive measures.
Coming into my sophomore year, I learned that first-time offenses
meant immediate placement on the level-one disciplinary probation
list, or pro-one (I suppose that is an issue for another op-ed, but I
will say that the university should want students to use the TEMS
resource, rather than place them in the dangerous position in which
they must weigh the safety of a friend against the disciplinary
consequences that the friend might face -- and probably resent). The
Naked Quad Run (NQR) has been canceled, parties across campus are
broken up with greater enthusiasm and at earlier hours and roommates
are now encouraged to tattle on one another for sexual activity
rather than first exercising the maturity and social skills necessary
to have an honest conversation (which, I will add, are as important
to leading an independent life, if not more so, as anything this
school can teach us in a lecture or textbook). In my involvement in
Greek life here, I have observed that the university does not stand
by its fraternities, though it willfully acknowledges the significant
role they play in the campus social life.

I am sure there are people who will read this and think to themselves
that I am just another college kid advocating for sex, drugs and rock
'n' roll. But what I really want to get at is that the Tufts
administration has shown to me repeatedly that it is fundamentally
out of touch with its students and the practicalities of life on this
college campus. When Spring Fling my freshman year manifested itself
into the infamous "mass casualty incident" the brilliant and bold
solution devised by Tufts involved shortening the performance list
and making it a "dry" event -- as if the 21-year-olds bringing in
six-packs were the ones being hauled off in ambulances and not the
freshman ripping shots in their dorms. Two performing acts instead of
three will not stop people from pregaming; shutting down NQR will not
change the fact that binge drinking occurs and that there are many
students at this school who don't have enough experience with alcohol
to understand their limits. And I can guarantee that breaking up the
4/20 celebration on the library roof last week did not prevent a
single person so inclined from smoking to their lungs' content in
their dorm room or at an off-campus apartment or in any other
deserted nook in the area.

These actions do, however, result in an at times hostile relationship
between the administration and the students, in which both sides view
each other with animosity and even contempt. Conflicts such as that
of this year's NQR, in which officers have been widely accused of
violent overreaction, are the inevitable products of an environment
in which both sides find it a matter of "Us" against "Them." Maybe
the kid I saw taken down by the TUPD officer at the rooftop
celebration on 4/20 did something I did not notice to warrant such a
response, but were the officers not instructed to disperse the crowd
and write up students, it is likely that the incident would never
have occurred. I agree with University President Lawrence Bacow's
position that "no tradition is worth sacrificing a life to preserve,"
and therefore can understand his motivation for ending NQR (if, as I
don't think is the case, we really have seen its end). But with
regard to 4/20, what grave danger loomed over this tradition that
compelled immediate action? Unless Tufts was accounting for the
not-impossible situations in which a student were to die from either
munchy-induced sugar overdose or an ill-advised attempt at flying, I
can see no pressing problems presented by the event.

Even three years ago, when marijuana was still criminal in
Massachusetts, the university took the more pragmatic stance of
convenient ignorance. I value very highly the education I have
received at this school, and I don't see 4/20 as being an integral
part of my time here at Tufts. I will say, though, that amid
campaigning school politicians, interest group bake sales and live
drum performances, all of which were part of the rooftop festivities,
I have never observed such diverse impromptu gatherings of students
at this campus. There are very few moments, if any, in which I have
seen such a clear example of the community experience that Tufts
actively advertises on a campus that is, to me, noticeably segregated
(socially, rather than racially) and more or less devoid of popular
opportunities to build school spirit. I was proud looking over the
turnout in years passed. I remember rethinking my cynicism as I
happily joked with the police officers who calmly observed the
festivities at a distance. But to have watched our school regress
over my time here rather than move forward saddens me, and I am glad
that I am not one of the incoming freshmen who toured this campus
this past weekend and will find it, in many ways, a less tolerant and
more hostile place than I have experienced.