"I dedicate this building to ... myself"

You might have noticed that the dedication of new buildings on campus has generated a great deal of debate. Many have dissented from IU's policy of auctioning the names of buildings for massive donations. Historically, this has been done to great effect ("Name Game," Indiana Daily Student, Sept. 14). \nBut a new ingredient in this game is perhaps most disconcerting. Great buildings and halls are no longer named after great men and women. More and more, it seems the case that any successful businessman (or woman) willing to write a check of sufficient size can have a modern building cast with his or her name. It seems a natural assumption for us to make that this practice is somewhat underhanded, even slightly appalling.\nBut that is just the point: It is our gut reaction. Upon some reflection, does the student body or the University at large suffer from buildings named after those who provided the necessary funding for such projects? Perhaps.\nIt might be that the campus environment incurs a loss in not having the names of devoted influential IU students (Ballantine, Wells and Pyle to name a few) honored in this way. And it is certainly in bad taste for some donators to beg for their names to be attached to whatever undertaking the board of trustees deems most needy at the moment. But isn't it also a celebration of the entrepreneurial spirit of Americans? Is it not, at least, a recognition of those who have donated to the cause of higher learning?\nThis does not mean that no moral or intellectual boundaries exist in the deliberation process. One would hope that the University would never accept financing from fascists. It seems more than a little appropriate that when status-obsessed people of privilege make an offer, we have some fun at their expense, so to speak. \nHere we are reminded of the film "Back to School" (1986). Rodney Dangerfield is Thorton Mellon, a well-heeled businessman who never put much stock in school, believing the basics were sufficient. But when Thorton makes a surprise visit to his son's university, he discovers his son isn't fitting in well. In an effort to help his troubled son, Thorton enrolls as a 60-year-old freshman. Unable to produce a high-school diploma, he reaches a compromise with the dean: He will pin his name to a hefty donation to the university.\n"The Thorton Mellon School of Business" is the result. At the dedication ceremony, he asserts: "I dedicate this building to ... myself."\nAll kidding aside, the notion that public dollars are less worthy than private names is purely aesthetic. It may have the advantage of being politically correct, but if enacted, it would be to the detriment of the University's resources. Successful entrepreneurs and wealthy public-spirited citizens versus those who do not want the implicitly known truth to be made explicit -- it's all a matter of cosmetics.