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Thursday, November 20, 1986 / University Daily Kansan
Opinions
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
A proposal that would enable students to pay their tuition by mail-in installments will go a long way toward bringing the University of Kansas into the 20th century.
The University Tuition Task Force has been working on the proposal nearly a year and a half, but it still needs to overcome some fairly sizable barriers.
The way it stands now, students must come back to school early to wait in lines to write one huge check on a certain day — or their enrollment can be canceled.
But with the task force's proposal, students would be allowed to mail their payments in either in one or two installments over a period of two months.
It only makes sense that as tuition costs continue to increase, it will become more and more difficult for students to pay for school in one chunk. And the convenience of mail-in payment is obvious.
Unfortunately, the proposal contradicts current Board of Regents policy.
Under a system that one administrator aptly called "archaic," the Regents now require that students appear on a specific date to pay their full tuition before classes begin.
As a part of KU's 30-year-old system, tuition information is transmitted on computer punch cards. International Business Machines no longer produces or repairs the computers the University uses, and the machinery has become difficult to maintain and service.
But before any of these proposed changes can go into effect, the Regents must change their policy for all of the Regents schools.
The task force proposal would allow for a modernization of equipment and ideology. Mail-in tuition programs work at universities across the country, and there's no reason one wouldn't work here.
KU officials say such a change would be "positive step forward." It also is a step that is needed to bring KU and the other Regents schools into line with the rest of the country.
Oops, here we go again
"Iran-gate" turned out to be such a scandal that even Ronald Reagan, he of the famous Teflon coating, couldn't brush off the criticism. The series of debacles and disclosures of the last two months has put the president on the defensive as never before.
Disinformation against Libya, gun running to the contras, the collapsed summit and subsequent confusion — all were merely preface to the worst foreign policy decision in years. Armaments have been given to a nation whose victory in war isn't in our best interest, and potential U.S. hostages now have a certified market value.
"Iran could be the start of the post-Reagan period," a Senate Republican aide was quoted as saying in the New York Times yesterday. With the president's previously unshakable personal popularity visibly crumbling, he could
find his agenda being thwarted throughout the rest of his term.
In the past, any dissatisfaction with Reagan's decisions has faded quickly. But the duplicity of the Iran dealings has become a crisis for the administration that should not be forgotten.
The Iran negotiations reeked with deception. Proper foreign policy channels were disregarded. Reagan ordered CIA director William Casey to keep quiet about the agency's involvement, even though the CIA is required to report its activities to Congress. The State Department, much to George Shultz's dismay, also was ignored.
Whether or not Shultz resigns as secretary of state, he is correct to pressure the administration to conduct an honest foreign policy. By criticizing the clandestine methods of the Iran arms deal, he may prevent future presidential misadventures.
No butts about it
Today is the day
Once again, smokers all over the nation will sweat it out, trying to kick the habit for a day, a week or for good. Most for just a day.
This is the 10th year of the Great American Smokeout. In the past, the smokeout has concentrated on cigarettes, but this year, users of chewing tobacco are also encouraged to stop chewing for the day. That's a good idea. Last year the smokeout included a "spitout" to point out the hazards of smokeless tobacco.
All over the nation, people are becoming more aware of the hazards of smoking. In Lawrence, a proposed ordinance restricting smoking in the city may become law before the end of the year. Many cities have already implemented similar oridinances, and many more are considering them.
The American Cancer Society says that 54 million Americans still smoke. The society reports that the smokeout set an record last year when more than 23 million smokers tried to kick the habit for a day. Let's try to help top that record this year.
The smokeout is a good idea. According to a spokesperson for the Lawrence-Douglas County Health Department, cigarette smoking is the most preventable cause of death and disabilities. Quitting can save lives. Not only of the smokers, but for those who breathe the secondhand smoke. Today, either quit for a day or help a smoker who is trying to quit. It can make a difference.
News staff
News staff
Lauretta McMillen ... Editor
Kady McMaster ... Managing editor
Tad Clarke ... News editor
David Silverman ... Editorial editor
John Hanna ... Campus editor
Frank Haniel ... Sportleader
Jacki Kelly ... Photo editor
Tom Eblen ... General manager, news adviser
Business staff
David Nixon ... Business manager
Gregory Kautuul ... Retail sales manager
Denise Stephens ... Campus sales manager
Sally Depew ... Classified manager
Lisa Weeme ... Production manager
Beverly Calhoun ... National sales manager
Beverly Kastens ... Traffic manager
Jeanne Hines ... Sales and marketing adviser
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Time to take down the yellow ribbons
There are some neighborhoods in Chicago that are so vicious and dangerous, even criminals are afraid to walk the streets.
Sensible people stay away. Those who must live in these neighborhoods learn to look over their shoulders, run fast and keep their doors double-locked.
Mike Royko
Chicago Tribune
But let's say that I decide to wander these streets late at night — maybe to soak up atmosphere for a column or book.
And let's say that while I'm strolling, some profit-motivated lads spot me and decide to divest me of my wallet, watch and ring.
Let's also say that for the sport of it, they give me a few whacks on the head.
Later, as I'm being patched up in an emergency room, the cops and curious newsmen ask why I was in that scary neighborhood at night.
When I gave my reason, they'd surely say,
"You've got to be off your rocker."
I'd expect most people to say: "Next time, don't be stupid."
And if I were honest, I'd have to agree.
I doubt if I'd get the slightest flicker of sympathy from anyone in Chicago. Nor would I deserve any.
in anyone in Chicago. Nor would I deserve any.
It isn't as if I'm a policeman, a fireman, a postman, or a meter reader — people who have to go to such neighborhoods as part of their jobs. Or someone who is forced by social and economic conditions to live there.
I have a choice. And the sensible choice would be to stay away and find something else to write about.
So I wouldn't expect society to wring its hands and say: "Poor man, something must be done to protect people like him."
What I'm working up to is what I call America's Yellow Ribbon Syndrome — our tendency to raise the freeing of hostages to a national priority.
From the White House down to the corner saloon, we seldom hear anyone ask an obvious question: "Hey, what were those hostages doing in Lebanon in the first place?"
We don't hear it because it comes off as kind of callous.
But now that the emotional need to release hostages has led the President of the United States to pay a ransom to Iran, the question should be asked.
One of the few who has asked it and provided an answer is Mark A. Heller, a visiting professor of government at Cornell University.
In an essay in the New York Times, Heller points out that those who have been taken as hostages in Lebanon didn't have to be in Lebanon. They were there because of career opportunities or a personal or religious sense of moral duty.
But it was their choice. They knew the dangers, they knew they were potential hostages. But they went and staved anyway.
Heller's solution is for this country to stop assuming responsibility for private citizens who choose to expose themselves to this danger.
It might sound cold-hearted, but it's as sensible a proposal as I've heard.
As a result, Heller says, this country is now sacrificing its national interests for a few individuals.
The warning should be: You want to go to Lebanon for a job or to save souls? OK, but if you're snatched, don't expect us to do anything about it. You know the risk and you're on your own.
The alternative is an endless cycle: the terrorists kidnap, we pay, they release, they kidnap
The message to both the potential victim and the terrorists should be. Sorry, but it's a private matter between you and them; the U.S. government is out of it.
If the terrorists knew they couldn't activate the Yellow Ribbon Syndrome and shake us down, they might not bother taking hostages. If Americans who choose to be in Lebanon or other hostage-happy countries knew they were assuming such risks, they might find another place to work.
While I respect the missionary zeal of clergymen, the world is a big place with millions of souls that need tending. I'm sure they can find a few outside of Lebanon.
If an American hospital or university administrator or a journalist prefers working and living in Lebanon, that's his choice. But I'm sure there are jobs elsewhere.
Here in the United States, many people have no choice but to live in dangerous surroundings. An old person on a thin budget might prefer living in a quiet suburb, but he must settle for a tenement instead. Honest people dodge bullets and run for their lives in stairwells of public housing projects. They have no where else to live.
And when they're hurt or killed, it's three paragraphs in the papers and 10 seconds on the evening news. We shrug and say that's life in the big, bad city.
But when a clergyman or professional educator chooses to travel several thousand miles to stick his head into a lion's mouth, the White House goes into the ransom business.
So maybe it's time to put the yellow ribbons away.
Or to wave them for the little old lady who just got mugged in her kitchen.
Not exactly the nuclear refrigerator
Eric Torskey Columnist
While foraging in my refrigerator recently, I found a bunch of broccoli I'd bought two weeks earlier, still in pristine condition. While marveling at its appearance, I remembered an advertisement I'd seen in the Kansan a few months before.
The Community Mercantile, a local, natural-oriented food store had presented the dangers of food irradiation, a process of preserving food recently approved for fresh fruits and vegetables by the Food and Drug Administration. The ad pictured a mushroom cloud above a plate of vegetables. "The Department of Energy has a solution to the problem of radioactive waste. You're going to eat it," the large type at the top of the ad read.
I didn't eat the broccoli, and I did some research about food irradiation. I concluded that the Mercantile's advertisement needed to be revised to remedy omissions and implications that complicated an already complex issue.
Irradiated food is not radioactive, it is not widely available, and it is not necessarily attractive to the food industry.
Irradiated food is treated with the radiation of a radioactive substance. It does not contain it. (Treatment with X-rays or electron accelerators is less common.) The radiation, most likely from Cobalt-60 or Cesium-135, interacts with food cells to kill insects and bacteria and to retard spoilage.
The Community Mercantile and other critics are concerned about other results of the interaction. In addition to its intended, understood effects, irradiation produces unique radiolytic products within the food. Ninety percent of these occur naturally in food, according to the FDA. Critics worry about the ten percent that are new and unstudied.
It was, in part, the danger of these "little understood" products of irradiation that the Community Mercantile was trying to make people aware of with its advertisement, according to the store's co-manager Steve Wilson.
Unfortunately, the advertisement confused the issue by implying that
consumers would be eating the source of the radioactivity,not its products.
Statements in the advertisement made it seem that food irradiation was prevalent. (The ad did admit, though, that the FDA requires labels on all irradiated foods.) However, area supermarkets have yet to sell any irradiated food. It's not available, according to officials at Dillons and Fleming Company, the supplier for most IGA stores in the area.
The readers of the advertisement apparently were asked to realistically confront a situation presented unrealistically.
The statement in the advertisement that "Most supermarkets will sell irradiated food without blinking an eye" suggests that retailers are very attracted to the irradiation process. As already indicated, however, this isn't necessarily true.
The FDA's regulation requires that labels on irradiated food state that it has been "treated with radiation" or "treated by irradiation." Surveys have shown the word "radiation" to be a significant stigma.
Other parts of the food industry have remained cool as well. Citrus
growers, for example, don't like the process because of unappealing physical effects irradiation can cause on fruit surfaces.
The forces promoting irradiation seem to be the irradiators themselves and certain sectors of the federal government. From 1983 to 1978, the Army spent $51 million in attempts to prove the safety of irradiating meats. In addition, the Department of Energy has plans to assist in the construction of demonstration food irradiation plants in at least six states, and is offering to sell its nuclear wastes from weapons manufactured at a discount to irradiation facilities.
The Community Mercantile was right to point a finger at the Department of Energy in its advertisement and only misdirected attention later when implicating the food industry, which presently appears uncommitted to the irradiation process.
It could be said it was only an advertisement. But it was an advertisement that may have undercut what it was trying to accomplish — making people aware of the dangers of food irradiation — by complicating the already complex issue.
Who put kilts in MacTavish's haggis?
Shortly before Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher's arrival, I took part in a whiskey-blending contest at the British Embassy. What is more, I was one of the winners.
Dick West
UPI commentary
Which is something I can't say for assorted state and local lotteries. Maybe buying a ticket does help, after all.
Anyway, as I was being congratulated by the losers, I felt a bit like the storied kilt-wearing Scot who passed out on the way home and was discovered by two English ladies out for an evening's constitutional.
I guess I'd better not finish the joke, lest I be jailed for porchography
by Attorney General Edwin Meese. The punch line definitely won't bear repeating around children.
If you insist on learning how it ends, send in a plain, brown wrapper.
Anyway, I now have a certificate, suitable for framing, from the Scotch Whiskey Association attesting that I am a "master blender." Man Margaret Thatcher say the same? Or Meese either, for that matter?
OK. So maybe the contest, as my wife rather forcefully pointed out later, was fixed. Maybe the blend I tried was too strong. You inspire yucks from other contestants.
I can only note in my defense, or "defence" as the British might call it, that the judging was supposed to be done with the nose and not the throat.
Tony Tucker, the association's executive director, told us professional blenders may deal with as many as
50 types of single malt and grain alcoholic beverages during a day. It
True, the blending room he ushered us into contained only five types. But I thought I did rather well with what I had to work with. Could I help it if some of the samples disappeared?
Even Robert Burns, portions of one
And did you know that Scotland has a lowland as well as a highland? I didn't either until I entered the blending contest.
Which brings up a related question: Why do Scots, particularly diplomats, poets and whiskey brand names, tend to be so prejudiced against the lowlands?
Sir Antony Acland, the British ambassador, called the evening a "Highland House Party" and fed us what was billed as "a highland
of whose poems was read with the serving of the haggis, wrote "A Highland Welcome," part of which goes: "In heaven itself I'll ask no more . . ."
But did you ever taste a genuine lowland whiskey? I did, and found it rather toothsome. Made me want to burst into a chorus of "My Heart May Be in the Highlands but My Taste Buds Definitely Are in the Lowlands."
Tucker advised blending the various types so we might handle the seating of dinner guests who were "objectionable," "unpredictable" and so forth.
I tried to comply, blending lowland guests with highland guests and seating them all, whenever possible, below the salt.
coat formula, as I have already indicated, was a big success. The nose knows every time.