Over matters big or small, from the administration of our country down to the governance of our immediate habitats, the archetypal Stanford student is associated with neither the image of agitated concern nor the clamor of political activism. While many of us passionately engage in individual interests and pursuits, we are better known for our general apathy of our surrounding condition, especially when compared with our cross-Bay counterparts.

A self-selected few choose to live in co-ops and Dead houses in order to participate more actively in community life, but the vast majority of us reside in dorms where community life is independently structured by a dorm staff.

There are many situations where staff prerogative is useful or even necessary — students are often too busy to worry about every little detail of their home. As a resident, it is reassuring to know that the living environment is safe and that food will be put on the table.

The level to which a staff dictates the details of dorm life can vary remarkably from residence to residence. Some staffs encourage residents to actively participate in the community. Other halls have no such institution, and rely on crude surveys or hearsay to relay preferences and opinions back the leadership. After all, staff members are busy students themselves, and it is sometimes more efficient to make certain decisions on behalf of residents without tortuously achieving consensus. So when the staff makes decisions, residents usually accept. Dissatisfaction is borne but dispute is averted.

Yet considering that the dorms are the homes of the residents — not to mention the expensive rooming bills — residents have every right to be involved or question some decisions that are made on their behalf. When there are qualms about what activities are funded or even the house theme, students only disservice themselves when they stifle their opinion in favor of the status quo. It is this very self-censorship, or an otherwise lack of opinion, that allows the scope of dorm staff’s influence to burgeon.

An excellent example of resident intervention was when Kimball’s dissatisfied students attempted to change the theme of the dorm, something residents generally acknowledge as either concrete or unimportant. The ensuing discussion involved dorm government, residents-at-large and activists. An online-survey was even initiated to gauge student preferences. Although the ultimate result was to keep the original theme, the appearance of passion and deliberation over something seemingly trivial is commendable.

Increased participation, if not handled properly, can lead to heightened division. In the pursuit of better representation, residents may inadvertently create hostile factions that would ultimately lead to community breakdown. It is important that activism has two goals: dorm staff taking into account the preferences of students and all residents learning to compromise and empathize. Verbalized dissent can be positive and constructive.

As busy as we all may be, college is the last time many of us will live in such a community setting again. Learning how to live with a stranger freshman year is as important as learning the intricacies of molecular physics or Hemingway’s novels. Likewise, as we change dorms from year to year it is important that we learn how to live with each new set of people. Within each set of people, every individual is equal and as such, everyone’s opinions count.

These opinions, however, may be stomped out unless each individual cares about being represented. In the end, it is the responsibility of each resident to participate and be heard. Voicing one’s dissatisfaction or suggestions with respect to dorm life may appear irrelevant to the greater ideals of civic duty, but it is this active spirit that makes democracy work at any level. Perhaps this resurgence of community participation is a positive sign that we Stanford students are ridding ourselves of our nonchalant image.