The New York Times Magazine asks us, in its counter-intuitive way, to consider the consequences of the drive to reform the culture of fraternities at the nation's institutions of higher learning.

Written by a Phi Delta Theta of recent vintage, the article suggests that the movement toward "dry" fraternities -- an effort by collegiate administrations to stem the tide of dead-pledge news stories, and (one hopes) the rate of date-rape on campus -- might have (prepare to be stunned) the effect of making membership in said organizations unattractive. If so, whither this central part of the University?

Well, yes, we can see that taking the "drinking" out of a drinking club might make it unpopular. What we can't see is why -- with regard to the specific animal that is the modern American fraternity -- that would be a bad thing in the least.

The "Greek" system of hypertrophied student clubs is one of the lamest excuses for a social institution we've got going in America today. One doesn't have to be a puritan with regard to college-age drunkenness (a problem which has existed for about as long as there have been colleges) in order to see this. One only needs to acknowledge that frat culture is aesthetically impoverished (squalor being the dominant aesthetic for the men's houses), institutionally defensive of the nastiest sorts of notions about sex and gender, and (this is the big one) empty of purpose at the center. The most curious thing about them is their tautological appeal: join to belong to a group of...people who wanted to belong.

Despite all the nonsense fraternities spew about teaching the values of brotherhood, these clubs are not oriented around any common goal, and ask little of their membership in terms of communal sacrifice. Leadership and co-operation (and the earned sense of belonging) are better learned in rehearsing a performance, running the student newspaper, organizing a conference, doing collaborative research, playing on a team, hanging a gallery show, or working in community outreach. All things which ought to be possible on a college campus.

I pause to note that as adjunct to all of the above, there exist ample opportunities to throw drunken parties with/for your fellow students, and attempt clumsy seductions of those to whom you are attracted -- the vital elements people seem to value in a fraternity party. Indeed, there's nothing outrageous about the notion that one might join a purpose-oriented group largely in pursuit of companionship, drinking buddies, and even sex. But the point is that there will be something there for everyone involved beyond that -- something to build, say, friendships on (to say nothing, of you know, learning something or helping someone).

Of course, I can't say I'd want to forbid people from banding together in clubs dedicated to nothing in particular. It is, I have heard, a free country. But why establish such organizations as the primary opportunity to socialize? On many campuses, these parasitic outfits have come to dominate the social sphere. They have been granted over time an ex officio status as the location of "fun," regardless of the continually third-rate nature of fun that they offer. And of course, if you're silly enough to point this out, you risk appearing to be someone who just doesn't know how to let their hair down.

There's nothing that can be done about them, of course. They're entrenched enough to seem part of the academic firmament to most. However, New York Times think-pieces which attempt to find in the future of the frat some sort of valuable potential should, it seems to me, be laughed out of town.