Two syllables and seven letters apiece. They encompass the greatest founding principle of this country and a basic tenet of any functioning community. Together, they encompass centuries of philosophical thought and represent key facets of academic reasoning.

Last week, Statler & Waldorf was shown neither when its website was abruptly shut down. Dean of Students Mark Smith said that he felt an article in the February 26 issue of the S&W violated the Rensselaer Policy on Electronic Citizenship by not demonstrating common courtesy and that its continued presence online constituted harassment, by drawing on his authority to suspend students and groups in emergencies when the people or property would be in danger. He also asserted that the content was not appropriate for a student publication, and that it “casts a shadow over the integrity and credibility of the publication and Rensselaer’s educational mission.”

I will not offer my endorsement or approval of any S&W content; in fact, there are certainly times when I don’t appreciate its value. I realize, however, that there are plenty of students on campus who do. Moreover, the publication is a student media organization recognized by the Rensselaer Union. Smith took actions that were sudden and extreme—actions which amounted to overt censorship.

Freedom of speech and the press are fundamental rights guaranteed to U.S. citizens by the First Amendment of the Constitution. That, of course, has no direct implication on the relationship an individual has with a private organization such as Rensselaer. For students at RPI, however, those same ideas are ensconced in The Rensselaer Handbook of Student Rights and Responsibilities. The Institute’s commitment to those ideals is further expressed in the Media Statement, which delineates a rigid procedure that should be followed to address grievances with student media organizations.

Worse than what I see as a clear intrusion into student rights, however, is the relatively weak justification Smith used to defend it. The violations of Policy on Electronic Citizenship are indeed “alleged” and far from clear-cut. The story had already been online for over a month, so I find it hard to believe that there was any sort of emergency about the situation. Furthermore, there was nothing that could reasonably constitute a danger against an individual or property, so the clause Smith cited from the Handbook wouldn’t apply.

Happily, S&W’s website was restored a day later and the offending article was removed pending further discussion. Smith and the S&W editor, Jim Tatalias ’10, met, and the issue is progressing toward resolution. Hopefully, this will spark a greater discussion about the roles of student media on campus and how the Policy on Electronic Citizenship applies to them.

This incident is, sadly, only one in a growing trend, however. It is the latest in a string of events in which the attitude of the administration has been very much in the style of the old Wild West—shoot first, and then ask questions later. A lot of fuss could have been avoided if Smith had politely e-mailed Tatalias and asked to meet about the article. It would have been the respectful thing to do, and there would have been no impropriety involved.

In February, Smith and other administrators met with leaders of the greek community in order to review the status of certain programs, a follow-up to the now infamous New Initiatives meeting of April 12, 2006. In fact, February’s meeting was congenial in nature and was not at all intended to impose upon the campus’s fraternities and sororities. A lack of communication, however, prevented any of the attendees from knowing what to expect from the meeting, and many still left it feeling uncomfortable because certain key documents had not been circulated. Simply by keeping the information flow open, Smith could have prevented the dark mood and hurt feelings that pervaded the meeting.

The 2006 New Initiatives meeting itself was another example of blatant disregard for the sensitivities of the community. There, various administrators from the Office of Student Life presented a series of new policies and regulations for greek life that were to be implemented over the next few years. The programs were created with little to no direct input from students or alumni, and the presentation left no room for discussion. The resulting outrage from the greater RPI community was deafening, and the original plans were rescinded for further, more inclusive consideration.

The students are not the only ones who have been jilted by this trend of disrespect. Last summer, the Faculty Senate was suspended by the Board of Trustees, an act that initiated a string of communication with the faculty that involved the president, the provost, and other senior-level administrators. These letters, memos, and resolutions accused portions of the faculty of malfeasance and maliciously disruptive behavior. Some of the accusations were patently false, and others were nothing but mudslinging, vaguely reminiscent of grade-school playground fights. The accusations remain, to this day, unapologetically posted on the Institute’s official informational webpage about faculty governance.

Were these isolated incidents, they would be hard to stomach. Taken together, they represent an egregious pattern of disrespect that seems to be pervading the Institute, and a growing schism between the administration and the greater community. I am confident in the good intentions of all the campus administrators, but that isn’t enough. If Rensselaer is to truly move forward in the 21st century, its officials need to stop depending on unilateral action to achieve their visions. Rather, we should be focusing on bilateral communication and universal participation.