Here’s to America. You, dear nation, are one of only a handful of first-world nations whose legal drinking age is over 18. Your young adults—who in other arenas of their lives are considered old enough to drive a car, choose the next president, and make life or death decisions in the military—are driven to drink in secrecy (and, quite frequently, in excess; see In Excess: Drinking at RIT). Perhaps pursuing it precisely because it is the last “forbidden fruit” of adulthood, they plunge into the liquor cabinets of their parents and older friends like Olympian diving champs. With little to no guidance from their parents or older, more responsible role models, this behavior leads to approximately 5000 deaths every year, according to a 2007 report from the National Institutes of Health. That, I believe, is something to really take pride in. Congratulations, USA!

Er... Sorry. Did that come across as disingenuous? I admit, I wasn’t being entirely sincere. Let me try that again; surely, despite our country’s absurdly unrealistic, impractical, and, indeed, dangerous laws, there must be praiseworthy institutions in this country.

Here’s to RIT. Ever watchful of your students’ safety and morality, you have created a dry (or technically, “damp”) campus that even the Puritans would be humbled by. This is not because you ban alcohol outright (which, as it turns out, the Puritans didn’t either); no, it is your system of rules and policies governing student behavior that our austere ancestors would be proud of. Students are not allowed to drink on campus unless they happen to be at the RITz. Students over 21 can drink if they live in the apartments, but not if they live in the dorms. Bulk containers of beer are fine in “institutionally designated party areas,” which may or may not be at the RITz (but never at the apartments). Although the drug and alcohol sections of these policies are more straightforward than, say, the rules regarding use of information in RIT student records, they’re nuanced and prohibitive enough to foster plenty of secrecy in students, which can lead to unnecessarily risky behavior. When taken to extremes, a culture such as this can produce situations such as the hazing dabacle that we saw with the Rugby team last year. Well done, RIT!

Okay, so that, too, was somewhat sarcastic praise. My point is, the way alcohol is handled at RIT (and even more generally, in this country) is totally backwards. A lot of it is out of RIT’s hands—but not all of it.

The introduction of a Good Samaritan policy (see RIT Approves Good Samaritan Policy) is a huge step in the right direction—and I’m being completely serious this time. This policy allows students to get medical help for their friends without fear of getting in trouble for excessive, possibly underage, on-campus drinking. It doesn’t punish students for the risky behavior, but it certainly doesn’t encourage repeated risky behavior, either; it’s a one-time-only deal, and is followed by an educational response. The Good Samaritan policy protects student health and safety, and allows students to act responsibly in a crisis. Furthermore, it allows students to get the help they need—both in the immediacy of an emergency situation, and later, as RIT’s resources help them deal with whatever underlying problems may have caused that situation. That, at least, is something that I can honestly say deserves our praise.

Allow me repeat that one more time: RIT’s Good Samaritan policy benefits everyone at this Institute, and makes our school a safer place.

So cheers to that.