Election season is usually a pretty wacky time.
Ideally, it should be a flowering of self-determination, one of the few times in history when we’re able to make a reasoned judgment and exercise our democratic muscles to influence the future of our country.
Unfortunately, the democratic muscle inside my lumpy little skull is pretty atrophied. I do my best to read ballot measures in their entirety, but I don’t usually have the will or the time to make a completely informed decision about the plethora of ballot measures, state initiatives and local ordinance adjustments. To be completely honest, the full texts of most laws are really, really boring.
So instead I rely on the next best thing: pro/con statements.
I like pro/con statements (and rebuttals!) because of their predictability. The trick to destroying a proposed law is pointing out how it would inevitably hurt things that everyone likes, like jobs, children or family farms. You can also take the negative view, arguing that a proposal will create things that everyone hates, like disenfranchisement, bureaucracy or corruption.
I was excited, then, when I got to read the big, goldenrod A.S. special election sample ballot a whole day before the election, because it has a big, goldenrod pro/con statement.
The “”con”” statement takes the negative angle, pointing out – in bold lettering, mind you – that “”This fee automatically increases every year with no limit.””
But then my excitement faded because, technically, this is not entirely true. (Or rather, THIS IS NOT ENTIRELY TRUE.) The bill’s description states that the proposed fee would be adjusted to the California Consumer Price Index, a measure of inflation. So in the extremely unlikely event of currency deflation, the athletics fee might actually go down.
But I’m splitting hairs. Point is: It’s a pretty enlightened piece of legislation that has a built-in mechanism compensating for inflation, preempting the need to vote on further inflation-based increases in the future. I was perplexed that writers of the “”con”” piece felt this was one of the most noteworthy problems with the referendum.
I’d have used that “”con”” space to point out that UCSD Athletics Director Earl W. Edwards warned UCSD students seven years ago that the athletics department was woefully underfunded, and that teams would likely be cut if a fee referendum were not passed. I’d have pointed out that even though the 2000 Campus Life Fee referendum did not pass, no teams actually were cut. I’d have pointed out that UCSD undergraduates passed an athletics fee referendum in 2002, bowing to the exact same arguments that were thrown at them in 2000 – and I might have pointed out that it’s a little ironic that here we are yet again, worrying about teams being cut.
Certainly I’d mention that we have more intercollegiate teams than most Division II schools, and that maybe 23 teams is genuinely too many for our school to pay for.
I’d definitely take issue with the vagueness about how the fee would be administered, mentioning that we’re being asked to pay for something over which we ultimately have very little control.
But that’s just me.
The “”con”” argument also points out that the athletics department does not need the entire fee. This is true. The immediate needs of the department – $300,000 to pay for NCAA-required athletics scholarships, and $500,000 for team operating budgets – could easily be covered by a $12 quarterly fee, instead of the $78 one in front of us. The “”con”” side then asks a very pertinent question: Where does the extra money go?
Their answer: “”Salaries and money for administrators to travel on paid vacations to conferences.”” But again, this is not entirely true. Certainly, a hefty sum – over $1.7 million of the $3.6 million that would be raised – is tentatively earmarked for salary increases, employee benefits and new positions. But the planned budget also includes $300,000 to cover the current operating deficit. While the “”con”” side complains about money dedicated to “”professional development”” ($50,000), it neglects to mention that an equal amount would pay for transportation. Or that $175,000 goes to medical coverage and insurance. Or that $90,000 would go to an athletics training room. And so on.
I’m also perplexed that the writers of the “”pro”” statement decided to lead off by proclaiming the destitution of student athletes, who are “”expected to pay hundreds out of pocket just to participate.”” I’m concerned because, after all, the fee they are arguing for expects undergraduates to do exactly that: pay hundreds of dollars out of pocket just to participate.
Instead of asking “”Why would any student want to go to a school that recently cut a handful of programs?”” I’d point out that an expanded, vitalized athletics department could generate more of its own revenue from royalties and ticket sales.
I’d like to think that UCSD undergraduates are pretty intelligent. It disappoints me that our student leaders think so little of us that they rely on bold lettering, incomplete information and subjective value judgments to persuade us one way or the other.
This fee has the potential to generate $3.6 million, which is roughly three times larger than the entire 2006-07 A.S. budget. Surely a measure of such magnitude deserves at least the focus given to the distribution of the usual A.S. budget.
Maybe we could pass the fee and buy three more A.S. Councils with the revenue generated. Perhaps one of the four would give the average undergraduate accurate and detailed information about a fee vote, so that no matter which way we voted, we could be sure we were making an informed decision.
Is the caps lock key really the most persuasive tool in our arsenal?