The countdown is on. The whole state is watching, and whatever transpires in the next few days will be interpreted, reinterpreted, analyzed and commented upon until the Earth finally hurtles out of its orbit into the sun, or until the football team has a winning season, whichever comes first. Yes, it’s another column about Veishea. Better get used to it — the fun is just getting started.

What can we expect to see this weekend? There’s no reason to suppose the much-anticipated “dry Veishea” is anything more than a public relations pipe dream whose only real purpose — namely, to make university officials and student leaders look as if they’ve done everything possible to avert disaster — has already been served.

There is, on the other hand, the very real presence of a police force endowed with a great deal of power, probably more than a little jumpy, and under tremendous pressure from a city government in the grip of abject panic.

There is also a large segment of the student population justifiably irritated and insulted by the behavior of campus and city leaders. And while the majority of students are intelligent and mature enough to handle their frustration responsibly, it only takes a handful of idiots to make a big mess. We have idiots enough, and this year they have a whole new justification for foolish behavior.

Add to the mix a dedicated corps of DPS gendarmes anxious to bust heads and parties, having seen relatively little action since last fall’s mass pummeling of football fans (which, despite the beatings of alumni in their ’60s, somehow failed to halt the relocation of Jack Trice Stadium’s goal post).

And, of course, there’s the — let’s face it — rather lackluster lineup of entertainment (thanks, in large part, to the university’s stinginess with venue facilities) and activities intended to divert students from drinking and other shenanigans. With all these factors, can we honestly expect revelers to put down their drinks, join hands and sing “Kumbaya?”

It will be a small miracle if there’s no fighting or rioting, but regardless of whether any major catastrophe puts the final nail in Veishea’s coffin, we can expect certain rights to be fudged or violated outright — the real tragedy of what our celebration is becoming.

Arrests and citations, justified and otherwise, will likely double, and leniency is about to become a thing of the past. Doors will be kicked in, rooms will be searched, and people may even get hurt. This much has been spelled out pretty explicitly by city officials and ISU administrative types. The city of Ames and ISU can’t or won’t think of a better way to handle the problem than cracking down, getting tough first and asking questions later.

Moreover, they see Veishea mishaps as the problem rather than symptoms of a greater problem, and one that warrants serious (albeit misguided) attention only three days out of the year. And while the tightening of the iron fist may provide some with a snugly illusion of security, it offers no real assurance that disaster will be forestalled.

Earlier this month, a man was stabbed on South Duff, miles from campus and despite the fact that Veishea was still weeks away. So far, nobody has offered any explanations or simple solutions for this act of violence. Could it be that violence, even when alcohol is involved, cannot be consistently predicted, prevented, or simplified enough to put the blame on a single factor?

When bad things happen, as bad things inevitably do, the natural reaction is to rationalize them and try to make sure they will never happen again. We rely upon this illusion of control. It makes us feel better, even though bad things continue to happen despite our best intentions. This isn’t the first time ISU has “taken steps” to avoid problems with Veishea — it all sounds eerily familiar to those who remember the riots of years past. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with trying to prevent tragedy, as long as we’re realistic about it and don’t end up making things worse — unfortunately, the course this year’s Veishea may be taking.

All the same, just for kicks, I’m going to abstain from drinking for at least part of this weekend. For one thing, I would very much like to see what’s so magical about Veishea, minus the alcohol, that needs to be saved. I wasn’t impressed by what I saw of the legitimate facet of Veishea last year, but I’ll also be the first to admit that I may not have been in the best condition to judge.

So this year I plan to take an honest, objective look at the dry celebration and decide for myself whether it’s worth making any sacrifices for. It may well be that it’s worth forgoing the libations for one weekend — but shouldn’t that be up to us, as individuals, to determine for ourselves?

The thing that impressed me most about last year’s Veishea was the general spirit of goodwill. Everywhere I went, students from Iowa State, as well as other schools, were friendly, outgoing, hospitable and generous. Everybody seemed committed to having a good time and getting along, which is why the violence came as such a shock to most of us.

I hope this year we can achieve the same kind of atmosphere and try to put the atrocious way the situation has been handled behind us. A little restraint and common sense is what we need this weekend if there’s to be any hope for our community. Veishea or no Veishea, we can’t afford another act of violence.

Josh Raulerson is junior in journalism and mass communication and English from Decorah.