More Matter Dish Deviants

Author: Matty Van Meter

I came to this campus, as many of you did, to immerse and engage myself in an intellectual community which is not only diverse and stimulating, but subtle, self-aware and conscientious. In the classroom, and indeed in most situations, I have not been disappointed. When it comes to the day-to-day applications of the most basic of moral tenants, however, our self-scrutiny comes to an end and we are found lacking in the strength to live by our convictions.

No one on campus knows exactly how many cups, mugs, bowls and plates have been stolen this year. That it happens is apparent everywhere and most students will have to look no further than themselves for a perpetrator. The problem is made somewhat invisible by the constant large-scale replacement of all manner of china and glassware, and most members of the community have become extremely adept and practiced at justifying the theft to themselves. That most students and faculty would consider it wrong to take another's property without permission goes without saying, yet when that property belongs to an institution rather than an individual, and when the theft is thousands of small objects, rather than a few large ones, our moral codes simply disappear.

The closest we can come to knowing the sheer quantity of dining hall property which is stolen is to add the number of replacement china/glassware bought (as of March 1, 8736 pieces, totaling $31,524 according to Dining Services) to the number of unbroken pieces which are found in trash and recycling bins (as of March 1, 8,686 pieces totaling $20,741, according to Waste Management).

Let us pause and consider the latter figure; every day we throw 43 perfectly serviceable items into garbage cans, many of which are so disgusting that they cannot be reused after recovery. Would you want to eat your chicken parm off a plate which had been in a compactor with Friday night's vomit? Every day, the College spends $157.91 to buy china and glassware in an attempt to keep up with the rate of theft, and every day, by the above estimation, $273.75, or 87 pieces are taken, never to return. Think of the implications of that. Even using this conservative estimation of theft levels, and making calculations from information provided by Dining Services and Waste Management, in the four years since the senior class entered the College, more than 70,000 pieces of china and glassware have gone missing. That is enough for two pieces for every resident of Addison County, enough for nine pieces for every resident of the town of Middlebury, enough for thirty pieces for every College student, including the ones who are abroad. This is why the figures from Waste Management are of particular concern; much of the stolen property is simply thrown away, because we have gotten used to brand new ones appearing in the dining hall no matter what we do.

The numbers, however telling they are, obscure the actual problem, which concerns the day-to-day decisions which reveal our lives, and which lay bare our real moral fabric.

The right and wrong here is perfectly clear, uncomplicated by the subtle shading and uncertainty which mark most decisions in life and academia, and yet the numbers suggest that each and every student on this campus feels him or herself above this simplest of moral codes. For all our high-minded philosophy and passionate defense of ideals, when put to the test, we are all petty crooks.