In a perfect world, people leave their doors unlocked when they leave for the day. They have no qualms about leaving a laptop to reserve a seat in a public area such as a library, or abandoning a Blackberry as a restaurant place-holder. Their expensive handbags never need to be checked for security purposes before entering an event, and leaving brand-name shoes in the hallways of apartment buildings does not inspire a moment of worry.
This perfect world sounds a lot like the suburban bubble that is the Wellesley College campus. Whether students display trust founded in naiveté or put rather too much confidence in the much-touted Honor Code, the truth is that most students are extremely lax about the security of their belongings. Why shouldn’t they be? The odd rumor reaches their ears about a stolen laptop during a high-traffic weekend, but they are reassured that it was the work of nefarious off-campus guests (i.e. boys) and that the Wellesley community has been violated.
Yet when thefts are happening mid-week, off-campus guests can no longer shoulder the blame. Only last week, a Longchamps tote bag was taken from outside of Pomeroy dining hall, and the campus erupted in indignation. Cynthia Chen ’10, who managed to remain theft-less for six semesters, says that she left the bag unattended for only ten minutes. “I’ve left it before without incident, so I guess that created a false sense of security,” she reasoned. “I know that this kind of theft happens—Pom is an easy target.”
The dining hall is “an easy target” because it is not only vegetarian, but also Kosher, and therefore does not allow students to bring any containers or bags in or out. This rule necessitates students leaving their bags on the coat rack outside, with the inevitable overflow spilling into the entryway. “I hear that usually when things are taken, it’s a wallet or an iPod,” said Chen. “People come out to find that their bag has been moved and that something is missing, but not usually their entire bags!” Chen reported the incident to the campus police, knowing that once the bag is gone, there is not much to be done. She referenced an incident from last year that has entered Wellesley lore: the girl whose bag and its contents were stolen, and then showed up on Ebay, posted for sale by another student. In that case, the victim was lucky enough to have her things returned, but such a resolution cannot be expected for every incident.
Nathalie Herman ’11 had an experience her first year somewhere between Chen’s and the fabled Ebay story. After leaving her bag outside Pomeroy dining hall and forgetting it for a few hours, she returned to find it gone. Two days later, she discovered her books on the shelf outside of the dining hall, but the bag—fortunately empty of valuables other than half a semester’s worth of class notes—was never recovered. “I never thought people steal here, but obviously they do. I keep hearing bike stolen, bag stolen, toiletries stolen—I don’t leave anything out anymore,” she said.
“Everyone needs to take some responsibility for preventing theft,” agreed Lauren Van Schepen ’10, who serves on College Government cabinet as Chief Justice. She views thefts such as those from Chen and Herman as representative of a much larger problem: an increasing number of social violations on campus. A social violation, as defined by the Honor Code, is one that occurs outside of the context of a course. While cheating and plagiarism are academic violations, theft occurs within the community and is classified as social. “There’s something troubling about students committing this many social violations,” she said. “Something about them is really blatant. Even aside from the Honor Code, stealing is something that people know is never okay.”
Van Schepen has found that students have an easier time envisioning the repercussions for academic violations. With social violations, she thinks, “students don’t associate it with an individual. It’s just a bag, sitting unattended, and a person taking it never has to think about how it affects others.” Yet according to Van Schepen, it affects many people besides the person losing her bag. The campus police must give their time, and incidents such as thefts “add a layer of stress and anxiety to the community.”
Last spring, the committee of College Government responsible for disseminating and enforcing the rules of the Honor Code changed its name from General Judiciary to the Honor Code Council. The Council is making an effort this semester to work with different facets of Wellesley to spread the message: currently it is looking into bringing a speaker to campus, publicizing the name change, and stressing the Honor Code aspect of campus life to prospective students by having tour guides integrate the Code into their tours, publishing a page in the viewbook, and placing fliers touting its importance in Weaver House.
This approach continues to inform Wellesley students of the importance of the Honor Code, but what about the constant blame that is shifted to off-campus guests? “An off-campus guest might see an opportunity where a Wellesley student might not,” admitted Van Schepen. “And for that reason we encourage students not to provide opportunities. Leaving your bag unattended for five minutes is different than using it as a place-holder for hours in a common space. Also, we caution students to consider what they are carrying: do you really need your wallet, your iPhone, and your grandmother’s pearls on you at all times instead of safely locked in your room?”
Herman was disillusioned by the theft of her bag. “I would blame students before off-campus guests,” she said. “Since it’s reoccurring, it must be on-campus. We have the Honor Code, but obviously some people abuse it.”
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