COLUMN: "All Hail Mr. Hickory!"

From George Allen, Jr.'s "Hey You Kids, Get Off My Lawn," Spring '92.From George Allen, Jr.'s "Hey You Kids, Get Off My Lawn," Spring '92.· Sure, I love my country and would defend the Constitution to the death, so I guess I do buy into the concept of ideology, right and wrong, and Western culture. But not really believing in the power of ideology, I tried an experiment when I was in the Boy Scouts of America. I was a sixteen-year-old counselor at Fire Mountain Scout Reservation, a camp which -- for the purposes of my experiment -- was conveniently isolated from civilization. Only the staff had access to the outside world. We could go to the screaming metropolis of Mount Vernon, Washington, for booze, women, McDonald's, pizza etc., but the campers were under our complete control for seven days. Feeling isolated and a little bit bored, a buddy and myself drove into Vernon. We stopped at the Safeway to get a few bags of chips, some Coke and some Froot Loops. I just happened to wander over to the dip section and saw a dip named "Mr. Hickory." A dip with a name? An identity? This was just too much, so we bought out the store's supply. This was a dumb move. Who the hell likes artificially-smoked, hickory-flavored dip? Absolutely no one. Since we couldn't move this stuff, we had to do something, because it was starting to smell. "Hey, I got an idea," I yelled. "Well, what the hell is it?" My tent mate was pissed off because he'd wasted twenty bucks on dip that smelled like sweat socks. "I just finished reading portions of Gramsci's Prison Notebooks where he says if we can set up a dominant hegemony, then we can . . . " "What's your point, geek? I don't have time for you goddamn explanations of everything." "Okay, here's the idea. If we can get the campers to think this Hickory crap is hot spit through massive advertising and a little coercion, they'll kill their mother to buy this shit." My tent mate was willing to try anything, and since I was a good pal of the administration, I was able to try my crazy scheme. We made Mr. Hick into a god-like figure, a camp icon, in no time at all. We plastered up likenesses of Mr. Hickory all over camp. We made up a song for them to sing ("Paean to Mr. Hick"), and soon enough they were doing it on their own. We advertised it during chapel services in order to make them think subconsciously that God approved. Of course, being an ideology, it had problems. First off, there were incidents of rebellion against camp authority. Graffiti began to appear on various buildings stating "HICK LIVES" in block letters. Campers began to make demands for Mr. Hickory in the name of some wacky form of social justice, as if the campers had a basic human right to Mr. Hickory. And, believe it or not, the administration gave in and served it in the dining hall. Ah, those were the hey days for Mr. Hickory. The brotherhood, the solidarity, the sense of "community" . . . But, alas, it couldn't last. The Mr. Hickory ideal, like all ideologies, soon succumbed to the pressures of factionalism. At camp, my tent mate was leader of a faction at camp that wanted to perserve the Mr. Hickory ideal of brotherhood, and develop the tenets behind Hickism. The guy in the tent next door felt more discipline and organization -- rather than lofty ideals -- was needed to provide order and strengthen Mr. Hickory's grasp on the camp. · Diversity, an idea all the rage at Penn, has had its own "Kumba Ya"-era here on campus. Of late, however, this ideology has spawned multiculturalism. Multiculturalism, unlike the glory days of diversity, actually dictates stratified roles for diverse cultural groups. Asians learn the Asian-American version of history. African-Americans learn the African-American contributions to literature. This implies that each group is mutually exclusive, and that interaction and integration is wrong. This stratifies individuals and creates a caste system based on "culture." · Back at camp, there actually was not enough time for factionalism to lead to in-fighting, and in-fighting to lead to a repressive hierarchy. But camp was only seven days long. Once the campers went home and started eating normally again, they realized that Mr. Hickory just plain sucked. The campers could go home -- but, confined in our ivory tower, how long can it be before diversity leads to the the factionalism inherent in multiculturalism? Already, fighting between the different "cultures" has begun, and the advocates of multiculturalism have, of course, prescribed their ideology as the only way to restore peace. Suddenly, the advocates of so-called openness have become the proponents of a new form of repression. Just think -- back when I was pushing artificially-flavored, hickory-smoked dip, I thought P.C. stood for potato chips. · George Allen, Jr. is a senior Intellectual History and Political Science major from Alderwood Manor, Washington. Hey, You Kids, Get Off My Lawn will appear alternate Wednesdays.

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