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Tuesday, September 9. 1986 / University Daily Kansan
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
Shape up or drop out
Republican gubernatorial candidate Mike Hayden has found the perfect weapon to use against Democratic candidate Tom Docking - morals.
It seems that Hayden has found a weak spot in Docking's armor of support — Docking's indirect financial ties, through stockholdings, to companies that do business with South Africa. And so far, Docking has yet to directly answer Hayden's accusations.
During a debate at the Kansas State Fair, Hayden verbally attacked Docking by accusing him of financially supporting South Africa's racist policy of aparthief. "When are you going to get rid of your investments in South Africa?" Hayden asked the speechless Docking.
Apartheid is a hot topic this year, especially since it's an election year. Hayden and Docking agree on many of the major campaign issues in Kansas — economic development,
aid for ailing farmers and support for higher education. To get ahead in the election, Hayden needs a strong stand on an important issue.
It's certainly no coincidence that the loudest opponents of apartheid reside in the urban areas of the state like Topeka, Wichita, Kansas City and Lawrence, the same areas that hurt Hayden in the primary election. To win a spot in the governor's office, Hayden needs votes from those areas. He needs to show that he is more than just a farmer from western Kansas, that he is also interested in world politics.
It would be nice to think Hayden is genuinely concerned about the evils of apartheid. Perhaps he is. But the fact remains that apartheid is an urban issue and Hayden needs urban votes.
In the meantime, Docking needs to dump his financial interests in apartheid, get his act together and take a stand against apartheid.
Hasty conclusions
Americans become infected with an odd sort of hubris whenever a U.S. citizen is accused by a foreign government of crimes against a foreign state.
"Well, our man is, after all, an American," the reactions usually go, "therefore, he must be innocent. That terrible regime obviously is trying to frame him."
Of course. As citizens of a nation that espouses wonderful democratic principles, we sometimes feel morally superior to others.
Take the case of Nicholas
Danielfo, a reporter for U.S.
News and World Report
magazine.
The Soviet government charged Daniiloff earlier this week with espionage, and a possible punishment upon conviction is death Daniiloff was arrested Aug. 30, after he received a package from a Soviet acquaintance containing maps marked "secret."
The Soviets say Daniloff worked with a deported CIA
agent. Daniiloff, his family, his journalistic colleges, President Reagan and even the Veterans of Foreign Wars all say Daniloff was set up.
Yes, there is a disturbing parallel between the events that led to Daniiloff's arrest and the arrest of a Gennadi F. Zakharov, a Soviet employee at the United Nations.
Zakharov was arrested under similar circumstances exactly a week before, and the Soviets may be retaliating for his arrest or trying to "teach" American officials something
However, there is no absolute light and no absolute dark, only shadows. And the shadows are particularly murky around intelligence activities.
It is possible that the Soviets framed Daniloff. But it is also possible that he was indeed involved in espionage, and perhaps Americans should wait for all the answers before presuming Daniloff's innocence or Zakharov's guilt.
Future flop
What it really represents is little more than a campaign gift.
A gubernatorial nominee's attempt to help shape the futures of today's young people just will not catch on.
from Docking, Democratic nominee for governor, is advocating a tuition investment program for Kansas schools, which he says is an effort to prevent the state's brightest students from leaving the state for education and employment.
Docking's program, called FUTURE, stands for Full University Tuition Undergraduate Reward for Excellence. But who would it be rewarding? The future college students, or the parents who save some money by deciding to control their offspring's destiny?
The program would allow parents to pay for their children's college education years in advance by making a series of payments into a state fund. The state gets to invest the money as it sees fit, and the parents get a tax-free account for their children's education.
Here's the catch. To receive the full benefit, the child must use the money for tuition at a state university. If they decide to go out of state, all interest gained on the investment is forfeited.
Similar programs have been carried out at a few Eastern private universities, but it is unrealistic to think it will catch on at a state level.
By the time students are ready for college, they also should be ready to decide which schools they would like to attend.
News staff
News staff
Lauretta McMillen...Editor
Kady McMaster...Managing editor
Tad Clarke...News editor
David Silverman...Editorial editor
John Hanna...Campus editor
Frank Hansel...Sports editor
Jacki Kelly...Photo editor
Tom Eblen...General manager, news adviser
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John Oberzan...Sales and marketing adviser
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Counselors need guiding hands
I would be the last to say that a guidance counselor has no purpose. In fact, I have a set of bookends in the caricature of guidance counselors who sit with pained expressions and stare quite intently, each at a different wall of my room.
I have a theory about counselors who help students through college. It is simply: The number of years a student spends in college is proportional to the number of times he visits his counselor.
Today, with mega-universities, counselors are well paid for their ability to keep a student happy. A student entering the counselor's office will be greeted by a warm smile and friendly handshake. The student lies prone on a plush, leather couch and airs his troubles. The counselor takes notes, asks questions about the student's childhood and whether he hated his mother. When the session is over, the counselor walks the student to the door, wishes him luck in all his endeavors, then returns to the office to shred the notes and resume slumber on the plush leather couch.
Jones was a born musician. He had played in the New York Philharmonic at 7, had taken private lessons all his life and decided to go to college to get his music doctorate. With hope
But this pleasant attitude is almost never found in the sprawling public campuses. The case of John Philip Sousa Jones is all too common.
Grizzley Hardiack, in charge of guidance for H through L, had spoken to nearly 2,000 students in the last hour. He saw Jones coming and sized up the lad as he neared the table.
Hardtack used his own pet formula, devised after his first day as
in his heart and his shiny, brass sousphone draped around his neck. Jones entered the registration line and met his guidance counselor.
Gerald Stone
Columnist
Syndicated
counselor. He noticed Jones had brown eyes and black hair, an easy student to classify. The lad was before him now, and Hardtack wasted no time.
"J.P.S. Jones. Ah, Jones, I see you have three initials before your surname. That's kind of unusual. Probably named after a couple of uncles to please your mother's side, eh? Well, it happens all the time . . . nothing to be ashamed of.
"Don't tell me, let me guess.
You're interested in building . . .
math . . . structure . . . chemistry.
That's good, Jones. I can always spot a chemical engineer. So wise and worldly and all that.
this green slip, go on to the table on your left and report to the chemical engineering building Monday. Next.
Monday found Jones in Chemical Engineering 101, seated between John Jones, with black hair and brown eyes, and Jill Jones, also with black hair and brown eyes. In fact, all the students in the class had black hair and brown eyes.
When the professor, Luther Jones called the roll, a stranger coincidence was revealed. Every student in the room was a Jones, except Billy Lones and Gwendaline Hones.
By the end of the semester, most of the class, including John Philip, had failed. Luther Jones, who seemed to know little more than his students, apologized and confessed a secret desire to be an accountant.
John Philip reported to his counselor immediately after receiving the "F." He was a bit perturbed about his lost semester and was anxious to get back to his double bass.
Hardtack had been through a difficult morning. He had already signed perhaps 500 forged medical excuses for cut classes and was in no mood to trifle. John Philip entered the office and slammed the door behind him.
"Mr. Hardtack," he began, but was promptly cut off by the counselor.
"Well, John, that was quite a forceful entrance. I admire a lad with
orce. And that voice . . . so dynamic
. . . so aggressive. You are certainly
a lucky chap to be gifted by nature
with that voice.
"Here, take this blue card and report to the Law Building Monday. Good day, my boy, and let me know how you're getting along."
"I have just the place for you, my boy. You're a born politician. Think of the responsibility. You owe it to your constituents. But first you need your law degree. Taking that poor farmer's case when you know he can't pay with just a lien on his property. That's the spirit. Old Glory, it makes a feller proud!"
Monday found Jones in Government 101 with all the other Jonesses who had been his classmates in chemical engineering. And the professor, Howard William Jones, looked a lot like Luther Jones. Another semester down the drain.
After a brief consultation with Hardtack, Jones went into pharmacy, then switched to physical education, philosophy, architecture and home economics.
Hardack was growing weary of seeing the same old faces go through the same old routine. He once asked himself, "Why can't these darn kids ever stick with something?"
But the counselor, even in his exasperation, was not dismayed. If all else failed, there was always journalism.
More companies need to disinvest
When retired IBM executive Rolly Clark stands by the window of his 38th-floor office and gazes at the city below, he sees, he says, a country in which U.S. corporations may have a prosperous future.
But what 65-year-old Clark really believes is open to question. As president of the Signatory Association, a group of U.S. corporations committed to promoting fair treatment of South Africa's black workers, Clark naturally tries to look on the bright side of things.
Clark, who works for International Business Machines Corp., is quick to describe the contribution U.S. corporations are making to South Africa's 24 million blacks. Since 1977, he says — with the air of a college dean touting his campus — companies pledged to the "Sullivan Principles" have invested $138 million in housing, health and education programs "for the blacks."
Clark asks visitors to give U.S. investment in South Africa a "fair shake" when they return home. Yet he seems to sense that the tide has
Maxwell Glen and Cody Shearer
turned against him and his program of corporate benefience. In the United States alone, 15 states, 46 cities and five counties have decided to rid their portfolios of $5 billion in South Africa-linked holdings.
News America Syndicate
Indeed, U.S. companies with South African operations are treading water, waiting for the deluge. Some firms are withdrawing from the country; others have decided not to expand their presence.
spoken in English
In his White House speech Tues
day. President Reagan beseeded the U.S. business community to expand, rather than contract, its ties with South Africa. "Our own history," Reagan said, "teaches us that capitalism is the natural enemy of such feudal institutions as apartheid . . . (we) need not a Western withdrawal, but deeper involvement by the Western business community, as agents of change and growth."
But only 47,000 blacks - or 0.8 percent of South Africa's 6.1 million black workers - work for firms based in the United States.
At the same time, the Sullivan Principles have yielded a small share of the financial aid that black progress requires. The $158 million distributed since 1977 comes to only 76 cents for each black a year.
It is arguable, of course, that the Western trade embargo envisioned by some sanctions proponents would
harm black interests. Inflation runs at an 18 percent clip. In the last three years, the economy actually has lost 250,000 jobs. It must grow 4 to 5 percent a year simply to keep up with the growth in the black labor supply. During the first quarter of 1986, however, it shrunk by 4.5 percent.
In this environment, foreign firms may have good reason to make their exit. Yet black leaders that we spoke to believe disinvestment — not increased investment — will induce the white business community to pressure Pieter Botha's government for truly "constructive" reforms
Because it has the most to lose from the loss of contracts with its Western counterpart, the white business community — and the white workers it employs — may be the South African government's Achilles' heel.
The God Squad: cops on a mission
Watch out bad guys: Bible-toting Detective Steven Rogers and his God Squad are on the beat.
Their immediate assignment: to help police officers having trouble coping with the pressure-cooker atmosphere of their jobs.
Their eventual objective: to make law enforcement more effective by helping officers eliminate the evils of corruption, drugs, alcohol and marital stress that seem to go with the job.
Rogers, a confident and decorated detective with the Nutley, N.J. police department, says the God Squad combines preaching the Gospel with self-improvement counseling for officers and their families in a ministry that has spread far beyond Nutley.
Peace of mind is the product, Rogers said.
"A few years ago when we first got started, we found that in our occupation, the rates of alcoholism, drug abuse, and especially divorce, were very, very high." Rogers said.
Rogers and other officers organized a survey of police departments, asking what programs were available for officers who had problems. The rates of alcoholism, drug abuse, divorce and especially suicide, were staggering, he says.
Josh Meyer
United Press International
"We found that a lot of these guys really needed help. To our surprise, many departments did not know they had problems, or where to refer police officers who had problems." Rogers said. "Some of the administrators I talked to personally said they had problems of their own and didn't know how to solve them."
Rogers found his own solution — born-again Christianity — after he began having work-related problems in 1977, he said.
Rogers started the ministry in 1981 with other officers who had overcome similar problems. He started with a mailing list of 35.
Rogers and other God Squaddiers also make personal visits and counsel worried officers through a call-in radio show that reaches at
"I was the type of cop who believed in the macho image, who went out drinking and doing things that were popular in the eyes of men but sinful in the eyes of God." Rogers said "I was very restless, very uneasy, searching for answers to the problems of man and my own personal problems."
"Now we have 15,000 and it's growing rapidly, at close to 300 a month. It's really caught on fire," Rogers said.
The ministry is financed by contributions and by offerings collected at speaking engagements. Rogers says. He speaks every weekend—at churches, police stations and to "anybody who will listen" in the United States and overseas.
least five states.
Five hundred kits were shipped to South Africa after a request was relayed from the God Squad's Australian office. Another office in the United Kingdom and two more in the United States round out the squad's network.
The group sends out about 2,500 free "survival kits" every month, with pamphlets written by officers and their wives, phone numbers for a botting and a Bible.
Rogers spends a great deal of his time with first-year officers.
"We try to get them before they hit the streets and tell them what to expect," he said. "We've gotten great responses. They all say it's very enlightening that there is another way to escape the problems that come with the job besides the bar scene."
Rogers has ambitious plans for the future, including what he calls Precinct 777, a $1.2 million headquarter to be built in Dayton, N.J., within a few years.