There'sbeen a lot of talk in the past couple of weeks about The Dartmouth Review and their latest flirtation with what some have called "tabloid journalism." While such a label is little more than a knee-jerk reaction, one must certainly question the motivation behind The Review's most recent expose.
In its now infamous April 19 issue, The Review sought to bring to light a supposed Parkhurst cover-up by exposing the "hidden stories" of four campus leaders: Hosea Harvey '95, Earl Plante '94, James Hunter '95, and Jim Brennan '96.
Reaction to the story has been somewhat mixed; some have praised The Review for breaking the story and others have accused the off-campus weekly of mudslinging. There has been a flurry of events since the issue was published -- flyers plastered all over campus, columns in The Dartmouth, etc.
Through all of the controversy, it seems that we have lost sight of perhaps the most important point -- that these four "campus leaders" are also our friends, classmates and peers. Because Dartmouth is such a small community, The Review's article carries with it greater implications.
If The Review's primary goal was to expose a Parkhurst cover-up, then why did it place such a huge emphasis on the intimate details of these students' lives? Just read the cover: "The Hidden Stories of Campus Leaders" is the main title. Then, under the pictures of the four students, it reads, "The Parkhurst Cover-Up." The focus here is unquestionably on the students and the associated gossip rather than any cover-up, and a reading of the actual article confirms this.
There are two sources of concern here. First, and most obviously, is The Review's handling of the situation. There is little doubt that at least some truth lies behind the story, as a Parkhurst cover-up is about as surprising as a Michael Jordan shot attempt.
The question then, is why did The Review resort to the tabloid format, devoting a section to each "scandal?"
Undoubtedly, it was necessary for The Review to provide examples of situations where the administration supposedly protected certain guilty students from the Committee on Standards charges. But was it truly necessary and indeed useful to focus so heavily on the details, effectively treating these four students as if they were storybook characters?
This leads us to the second source of concern: confidentiality and privacy on a small, gossipy campus. I have stated above that since Dartmouth is such a small community, "campus leaders" are more than just faces we see in The Dartmouth. They are people with whom we interact daily. As such, it is the responsibility of institutions such as the COS and yes, the media, to exercise responsibility when dealing with sensitive situations.
Had the four students been charged by the COS, the resulting trials would have remained confidential. Perhaps we would have learned bits and pieces of the details of the hearings through idle gossip, but by and large, the situations would have been kept secret (as they should be).
By playing vigilante, The Review has in effect only hurt its own image. While it should be commended for breaking a story no one else would have broken, The Review chose to play into the hands of its critics, using shock tactics and insensitive reporting.
In the end, The Review did the administration a favor by focusing so heavily on the four students rather than the larger issue of Parkhurst's alleged dishonesty.
