I, like many of my fellow first-years, was considered a leader at my high school; after all, leadership is one of the intangibles considered a prerequisite for admission here. Like so many of my Yardling friends (especially those who aspire to be Gov jocks), I also served on my school's student government, whose main activities were to review the dress code, the disciplinary code, and the like, and to advise the administration on how to effect changes that would please both the faculty and the student body. For the most part, we were taken seriously by our principals and headmasters; they knew we were intelligent enough to know what we were doing and saying. There was a sense that if you talked to your representative on the Council, things would get done .

It was a shock to come to Harvard and find a largely impotent student government, scorned by students and administrators alike. Why even run, upperclassmen told us; you can't make a difference. Yes we can, some said -- this will be the year the UC finally begins to function as a student government. We even have the Progressive Undergraduate Council Coalition to help us. THIS TIME, THEY WILL LISTEN! Has PUCC's siren song of student power persuaded those with the fewest bad memories of the UC? How have the freshmen reacted to the latest attempt to reform the UC?

Sadly, many are already resigned to the fact that they will be randomized, that they will be required to complete the Core as is, and that finals will always be after Christmas break. Simply put, the majority just don't see how their UC representatives can effect the changes for which they've promised to work , and even fewer know how PUCC intends to improve the situation. Says Kadar Lewis, "I'm skeptical as to what they can do to affect everyday life." At least he knew what PUCC is. Another Straus resident asked, "What, a hockey puck?" Some feel unqualified to vote in an election about people and issues they don't yet know or understand. Asked about his opinions on these issues, Dan Yates of Grays replied, "How the heck should we know? We've only been here three weeks!" "I've seen people running for office," said Eric Feigin, "[but I still don't know] what they do once they get there." Good point. What do they plan to do once they get there?

Like most of the twenty-one Yard representatives, Michael Passante, who ran and won on the PUCC platform, wants to emphasize Core reform and calendar reform. This has been attempted before, he knows, so he plans to attend the Deans' office hours. If only previous Councils had thought to talk to administrators, we could have changed things long ago! He also stresses that PUCC is trying to be as inclusive as possible, though it does have liberal leanings. Of course, like all freshman representatives, he insists he is just getting the hang of things ("We're all kind of mystified," says Lamelle Rawlins, another PUCC rep), and much of what he knows is based on what upperclassmen tell him. Are these the same upperclassmen who have failed to enact change in the past? Or are they the ones who claimed, "Well, the Republican Club doesn't exactly represent the student body," while contacting a number of liberal campus organizations that presumably do?

Perhaps one good thing PUCC has done is raise student awareness on campus. Because of PUCC and the publicity it stirred up, "a different type of people that would never have run had it not been for PUCC" became interested in student government here at Harvard, says Rawlins. The question is, were they students who thought PUCC was the way to revive the UC, or students who just found PUCC a convenient platform through which to advance their liberal agendas?

Say what you want, but PUCC possesses over a third of the seats on the UC now. Considering how many people traditionally show up at UC meetings, that could easily turn into a majority if only the self-proclaimed "activists" stay active. Let's just hope that the "non-representative" representatives speak up, or at least attend most of the meetings.

On Monday, October 16, one million black men will march on Washington, DC, in an attempt to revitalize the lagging "black freedom" movement. This event, dubbed the "Million Man March" by Nation of Islam leader and minister Louis Farrakan, promises to be the largest protest ever assembled in the nation's capital. However, while the actual march itself appears to be on solid footing, its ideology is uncertain in both content and form.

Not even Harvard has been immune to the hype. On Wednesday, October 4th, over three hundred people packed the ARCO Forum at the Kennedy School of Government to listen to Farrakan disciple Conrad Muhammad and Harvard Professor Cornel West engage in a dialogue entitled, "What Should the Million Man March Mean to All Americans?" And while the conversation between Minister Muhammad and Professor West lasted well over an hour, only one answer to the title question appeared possible: nobody knows.

Muhammad rambled and West proselytized to an audience that appeared willing to gobble up any morsel of information thrown out about the event -- while both speakers agreed on what a wonderful thing the March would be, neither speaker was prepared to discuss a specific plan to improve upon race relations once the country's attention has been seized.

Instead, Muhammad and West contented themselves with patronizing head-nodding and broad generalizations as they traded jibes at conservatives. West, for one, commented that "America is drifting in a right-wing, cold-hearted direction," while Muhammad added that "there is a new national pastime...Gingrich and Conservative America." There was no mention by either speaker, however, of how the March will pave the way towards the resolution of issues such as affirmative action, welfare reform, urban decay, or the criminal justice system. Rather, the sound bites rolled on. West commented that "it is open season on blacks in America." Muhammad blasted conservatives he labeled "racial crackpots" and declared October 16 a "National Day of Atonement" patterned after the Jewish holiday of Yom Kippur.

These last comments were especially rife with irony, considering that both Muhammad and his mentor Farrakan have been quoted on numerous occasions as making various anti-Semitic and anti-white remarks. Indeed, during the question-and-answer session that followed the speeches, Muhammad was forced to spend most of his time defending the Nation of Islam's track record of "reverse" racism and prejudice towards not only Jews but homosexuals and women as well. West made several half-hearted attempts to support his fellow speaker, but generally he shied from controversial issues.

In fact, the most interesting moment of the entire evening came when Muhammad discussed, of all things, professional football. Muhammad stated that those black football players whose teams would be playing on Monday Night Football on October 16 might boycott the game in a show of support for the March.

After sorting through the sensationalism, exaggeration, and obfuscation that marked the evening with West and Muhammad at the IOP, one could only be left with an empty feeling. At first blush, the Million Man March appears to have everything going for it: a reason to occur, a place to occur, a time to occur, and perhaps most importantly, the necessary support to ensure its occurrence. The March will not lack big names -- Farrakan and West will be there, as will Jesse Jackson (whose well-publicized prejudices will no doubt fit quite nicely with those of the Nation of Islam). Nor will the event lack coverage, as Muhammad promised that even interested parties in federal and state penitentiaries will be able to watch the March on television. Nor will the March fail to catch the attentions of the elected representatives, for Congress will be hard at work on nearby Capitol Hill as the March takes place.

Rather, as the aimless rhetoric on Wednesday night proved, the March is missing just one important factor -- an element crucial to any movement of any people, be it ideological, physical, or otherwise.

On Monday, October 16, when one million black men converge upon Washington, DC, what's the only thing they'll lack?

A direction in which to march.

Why do we write?

Every Thursday I walk the halls of Cabot House, stuffing the Independent into mailboxes already filled with ads, coupons, fliers -- even copies of last week's Indy, unwanted and unread. Then on to Currier, where I force-feed the floors their recommended w eekly allowance of written roughage.

And every week I wonder why I'm being paid $7.15 an hour to do this. So the business manager can tell prospective advertisers that their ad will be distributed to every room on campus? So all the hard work of the Independent staff will be duly read and recognized by the maximum number of people? So those who don't care enough about the paper to pick it up from the distribution bin and carry it upstairs will be convinced to read it anyway?

And every other week I do the same for the Salient.

Why do we write?

Every day I log in to course3, type "tin," and tune into a journalist's utopia -- the Harvard newsgroups, where articles can be read as soon as they're written, and published, or posted, with the push of a "p." Where points and counterpoints evolve into lines of infinite length. Where dissent means more than a single splenetic letter to the editor. Where disagreement can lead to dialogue between reader and writer. Where there's always space to spare but never space to fill. Where articles are only as long as they need to be. Where middles don't need beginnings and ends. Where the pompous and pedantic can be quietly killfiled. Where wisdom and wit and nonsense abound, and all that is missing is paper.

Why do we write?

Every so often I read a newspaper article complaining about something Harvard -- aka the almighty "Administration" -- has or hasn't done. And I wonder why it was written. The people who have the power to obviate the cause of complaint probably won't read it. And even if they do, why should they act on it? It's still the opinion of only one student, even if it has been copied five thousand times. Why not write a letter directly to the villain in question? Why not work for a plausible solution? Are we writers really as "selfish and lazy" as Orwell claims? Do we complain, and then come up with imaginative but obviously unworkable solutions, in order to evade the responsibility to act? Are we so caught up in writing about life that we stop living it?

Why do we write?

Every Monday and Wednesday and Friday I walk the stacks of Hilles Library, picking up books and returning them to their proper places. I note their titles and authors as I shift and shelve, and wish I had time to read all those that interest me. Why do I read the Indy and FM, Perspective and Peninsula, when I could be reading Auden and Eliot, Dillard and Didion? How should I presume to write for an audience that already has access to more literature than it could read in a lifetime? Why do I waste my weekends explicating a single idea of my own when I could be absorbing the thoughts of thousands of others, most of which are better written and better researched than mine? Why do I write about this Harvard world, which seems too small to support so many opinion-makers, when I could be learning about the Real World from people who live in it?

Why do I write?

Perhaps because I like seeing my name in print. Perhaps because I enjoy perusing the finished product and knowing I had a part in putting it together. Perhaps because the printed page is prettier than a computer screen could ever be.

Fifty years ago, in April 1943, the first issue of the Salient was published. It included a statement of purpose, which began: "This is our first minimal jump toward culture. We have no illusion about the importance of what we print. It may seem useless to some. It is not useless to us. Our bet is on our future. To go further on we must think up words -- arrange them -- and write them down." This was why they wrote, or at least why they wanted to write -- not to force their opinions on others, not to deliver periodic revelations -- God knows there aren't enough of those to go around -- but to force themselves to figure out what those opinions were and why they held them.

And this is the reason why newspapers are not yet obsolete, why newsgroups pose less of a threat than a challenge -- a challenge to spend the time between issues in deep and deliberate thought, to make sure that what we write is worth more than the paper it doesn't have to be printed on.

The Salient I've quoted is not the same one you're reading right now. (It was an arts journal, not a political paper, and it folded in 1946.) I wish it were. I wish we had inherited, or at least adopted, this humble philosophy. Perhaps if we had we would be willing to assume we were wrong, to dwell not on what "one" ought to think, but on what we think and why, to wander from what we do know to what we don't. To write articles that couldn't be summed up in one sentence -- essays instead of editorials. To end our sentences with something other than periods.

Nothing pollutes the elegance and charm of Harvard Yard more than the reams of crude posters that sprout from every pillar, tree, wall and pathway. As we journey from class to class, we are besieged by posters touting tasteless and obscene slogans. Publicity-seeking student groups have attempted to outdo each other in the vulgar content of their latest announcements. The only substantial effect of this ugly competition is the degradation of our campus.

The various student groups that concern themselves with sexual issues are not alone in drowning students in a flood of prurient language. In fact, it would seem that almost any student group with any message that it wishes to communicate to the campus now feels compelled to incorporate some suitably shocking sexual reference in the poster. Thus Peer Contraceptive Counselors encourage us to "lick condoms" and the Harvard Glee Club invites us to "shower with President Clinton." Perhaps these ringing endorsements of the hedonistic life would not be so offensive if they were not printed in three-inch-tall letters and sprayed across every bulletin board on campus.

I can see no great merit in the censorship of such vulgar language. Free speech is a notion the Salient has always defended. Few would deny that these campus groups have every right to convey their message in any way that they please. However, free speech is a right which ought to be exercised with moderation; hence the Supreme Court has restricted hard-core pornography, and seditious speech.

Free speech that shocks and unsettles is certainly valuable; it is the premise of the academy that we must unsettle ourselves as we search for knowledge and examine our beliefs. But true pedagogy employs subtlety and allusion to prod our minds out of complacent acceptance. These posters employ neither subtlety nor allusion; they are explicit and vulgar.

While tactics of shock and discomfort are essential to the classroom, student groups at Harvard need not seek to offend as many students as possible. The current enthusiasm for sexually explicit postering must be placed in context. The academy shocks and unsettles students by subjecting beliefs to rigorous inquiry and the cold light of reason. The posters shock and unsettle students simply by exposing them to offensive language. There is nothing intellectually rigorous about exhorting students to "lick condoms."

Soon the current crop of posters will no longer offend. The constant stream of vulgarity will no longer draw unsuspecting passersby to take a second look at the latest poster. Then the advertisers will feel compelled to take a step towards further vulgarity in order to attract fresh interest. The current advertisement for AIDS Education and Outreach, which announces "Free Hot Phone Sex" in boldface, will soon cease to attract astonished freshmen. To what lewd slogan will AEO turn next?

I can hardly say that I look forward to the next generation of posters. The advertisers should realize that offensive language gains publicity only by degrading our campus. It is embarrassing and sad that today's Harvard organizations can only attract attention by tacking ever more obscene slogans to the century-old gate that declares "Enter to Grow in Wisdom."