EDITOR'S NOTEBOOK

The alumni magazine. Why are millions of dollars across North America spent publishing them? At best, they are finely- written publications detailing the newest currents in thinking and science; some even achieve humour that is sophisticated and witty. At worst, they are duller than the neighbour's doorknob, either ultra-serious or foolishly optimistic. Given the sums spent, universities want to know if the expense is justified. The debate ensues: if someone gives money, then they are; if a professor's work is highlighted enough to attract better students and grant money, then they are. Each week I receive at least one call from another alumni office: how do you measure the impact of your magazine?

Of this, I am truly unsure. No mathematical formula is readily apparent. Yet, the alumni magazine, as a genre, appears here to stay, if only because it allows for fulfillment of a basic human need: the overwhelming desire for recognition.

Throughout time, the concept of recognition, and the human desire for it, has occupied the thoughts of philosophers and academics. In his seminal work, The Theory of the Leisure Class, Thorstein Veblen writes that "in order to gain and to hold the esteem of men it is not sufficient merely to possess wealth or power. The wealth or power must be put into evidence, for esteem is awarded only on evidence." Francis Fukuyama argued for a society which rewards individual achievement because the most talented people will always seek recognition. McGill philosopher Charles Taylor tells us in his essay, The Politics of Recognition, that "Equal recognition is not just the appropriate mode for a healthy democratic society. Its refusal can inflict damage on those who are denied it."

At the individual level, management consultants point out that recognition, a new title or award, can be tantamount to financial rewards. Our editorial assistant came bounding into the office one day with a special glow. She'd won Employee of the Month at The Gap. No extra money, but a sense of excitement just the same.

At the McGill News, we receive dozens of profile and story suggestions. The key word underpinning all is "interesting." Just who is interesting, of course, depends on the values and motivation of the suggestor. An "interesting" story might involve the accomplishments of a son or daughter or relative, or a fellow law partner. The people who normally receive recognition are fairly standard: those who contribute to society, achieve intellectual, artistic, scientific excellence, those successful in entrepreneurial efforts, and especially to those with a philanthropic bent. I used to chide one fundraiser that he never suggested one "interesting person" worth less than $5 million. Other common requests for recognition come from university departments celebrating anniversaries. The patterns are fairly predictable. Yet, one day a suggestion stood out. One professor wrote at length about the achievements of a fellow professor and why his work should be profiled. It struck me as different than anything I'd seen before. How wonderful and selfless, I thought. Only one point had been left out, I found out later: they were married.

There seems to be a certain protocol in that, while everyone seems to want recognition for their efforts, few want to admit they seek it. Getting others to submit data is OK, doing it yourself is not (entirely). This brings us to the Alumnotes section of the magazine. This section is compiled primarily from personal submissions, yet we also cull from press releases and news clippings, as well as tips from parents and relatives. It had not occurred to me that anyone would care how we got the information until one McGill professor told me she was embarrassed that a note about a recent accomplishment appeared, and her colleagues were razzing her. At another event, a rather senior bureaucrat asked me the same question. He was kibbitzing a colleague about sending in his alumnotes. I gave him the rundown of "how we get the Alumnotes" options. "I'm going to bug him that his mother sent it in," he announced with a Cheshire smile.

In this issue, our main piece concerns former editors of the McGill Daily, an unusual and talented lot if ever there were some. Are they worthy of recognition? You decide.