You didn’t vote on Monday (or Tuesday, as the case may be), did you? No, most of us didn’t. And it’s not that the candidate selection was poor (come on, we’ve seen worse), but that the platforms espoused by the candidates all seemed so pitiful when read in the light of reality. One just fails to see the point in voting at all.

No, they won’t be able to end the lockdown policy. No, they won’t be able to get home games in McDonough. No, GUTS schedules won’t change. No, they won’t be able to accomplish the myriad other goals outlined so clearly on the yellow signs placed daily under my door.

But it won’t be for lack of effort.

As we entered GUSA Presidential time again, the posters, platforms and platitudes were all nice (except for the banners with the hearts – I found them rather presumptuous), it became clear to me once again: these candidates really want to do good, they really want to implement their “Contract with America”-esque reforms, but . they can’t. The university administration has caged, shackled, bound and gagged GUSA so as to deny it any real authority. The best we can hope for is that the powers-that-be will co-opt one of GUSA’s ideas, make it their own, send out their own press release and put it into action.

The chances of that, though, are slim. But the agendas on the yellow pieces of paper – they’re more like an attempt to beat the odds. They are a “we have all these ideas, one is bound to be looked upon kindly by someone with an office in Healy!” sort of deal.

In the hardball game of politics at which we all like to consider ourselves so adept, we have forgotten our Machiavelli: people will only let you make changes once you convince them that it is in their best interest.

While past Georgetown Machiavellis have attempted to implement change, most have failed. One that sticks out is the sit-in in then-President O’Donovan’s office a few years back. It wasn’t a real sit-in (says the Republican, like I would know) – they had Bangkok Bistro brought in and employed rotating shifts so some could take a nap or shower. Blech.

It doesn’t matter how many resolutions GUSA passes, how many phone banks harassing the university administration they set up or how many stern editorials the campus papers write demanding that the university take the student government seriously. We must consider, then: what is the one thing that scares Georgetown?

A seat for GUSA at the table of power would be a dream come true. Alas, many of my columnist brethren would have nothing left to write about, but I think that’s a price we’re willing to pay. But how can we make this a reality?

I’ll admit I’m not the protesting sort. I don’t die-in, I don’t sit-in, all I do, and I do it well, is sleep-in. I don’t have much that the university wants; heck, the bookstore won’t even buy back most of my used books.

What Georgetown does want, though, is something I don’t yet (and probably won’t for a while) have: money. And that, I can deny them.

At a school that wakes up from nightmares of a stagnant endowment, what else speaks so effectively to the administration’s interest? You’re nothing more than a potential member of the Blue and Gray Society ($10,000 or more a year in contributions).

If Georgetown wants to mold us to be “men and women for others,” it has a funny way of showing it. Before I’m able to focus on the needs of those around me, I want to be assured that my needs will be represented in a meaningful way.

Tell me, what is the point in giving back to a school that never took your en masse voice seriously? It takes our student government so un-seriously, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jack the Bulldog was potty trained on copies of the GUSA Constitution. No, GUSA isn’t perfect, and as much as it may at times piss us off (please – no more slapdash amicus curiae briefs supporting the University of Michigan’s Affirmative Action policy, ok?), it’s all we’ve got to negotiate against the lockdown policy. Or for an expanded GUTS schedule. Or, for the plethora of other “beat the odds” agenda items outlined last week by our prospective student presidents.

President DeGioia, et al., if you aren’t going to give orgenstern and de Man the chance to be anything more than pretty faces, just abolish GUSA. Send us an e-mail, tell us what a farce this has all been and stop leading us on with the myth of student government. But please, don’t expect or solicit a dime from Adam Jones after he graduates. Save up the postage for more pressing matters.

GUSA’s cage will probably need a new lock by then, anyway.

Adam Jones is a junior in the College and can be reached at Point of Order appears every other Friday in The Hoya.

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