On March 28, 1989, University student James Whitehead typed a letter of hatred titled "Why should one kill homosexuals" and sent it over an international computer network.

State Rep. Lynn Herman, in a letter dated April 10, 1989, urged Bryce Jordan to "investigate this matter and take appropriate action."

The Lesbian and Gay Student Alliance urged administrators to discipline Whitehead for harassment, then defined under the University's Acts of Intolerance as "unwanted physical contact or the threat of such contact, which annoys, threatens, or alarms a person or group."

The episode ended when the University announced the message was protected free speech.

But last month an ugly epilogue was added when Penn State published its revised policy on codes of conduct. It eliminates the "Acts of Intolerance" terminology and explicitly recognizes the First Amendment.

The administration is heralding the revision as a triumph for free speech. "Students don't drop their constitutional rights at the campus gate," said Pat Peterson, assistant vice president for Campus Life.

But W. Terrell Jones, interim special assistant to the provost for underrepresented groups, expressed concern that the action "sends a mixed message to students in underrepresented groups. We're saying it is OK to insult people. But saying it's the law doesn't mean it's right."

The difficulty of combating injurious epithets while preserving free speech is not unique to Penn State. Nationwide, universities experiencing racism, homophobia and sexism have tried to protect victims by passing stronger harassment policies.

"There is a matter of real concern regarding racial and homophobic actions and threats on large campuses across the nation," said Thomas Grey, professor of law at Stanford University. "We should be doing something about this within the limits of the Constitution." Grey recently drafted a proposal to do just that at Stanford.

Meanwhile, here at Penn State the administration is exhibiting a different, frightful attitude. When I asked how the University would enforce some hypothetical situations under the new policy, Peterson only said each case had to be considered individually.

This conveys the impression that nothing can or will be done to curb intolerable acts. Peterson once said, "When people think there is a chance for improvement, they will be more inclined to report things." (Centre Daily Times, Nov. 16, 1988.)

The opposite is also true.

Black Caucus president Walter Mosley claims that problem is a reality even now. "Verbal harassment happens on a daily basis but we don't report those because we know nothing will happen."

The following incident, which occurred last spring, shows how ambiguity can foster mistrust. On the second floor of the HUB, University student Dennis Pollard witnessed a male student rip down an LGSA flier while making a comment about "faggots."

Pollard confronted the student and reported the incident. The Office of Conduct Standards decided it did not warrant action by the University.

Director Donald Suit told me his office could not prove the student showed consistent behavior with intent to harass. According to Suit, the student claimed he was taking the flier to examine it elsewhere.

LGSA co-director Lora Nase feels the act directly interfered with her group's freedom of speech -- the same freedom the University used to protect the Whitehead letter.

And Brian McKernan, a senior member of LGSA, worries about an actual increase in acts of intolerance, a situation he believes would affect the gay and lesbian community particularly hard.

If victims now perceive it does no good to report these acts, the perpetrators may equally perceive no danger in committing them.

Saying an intolerant act is legal is not saying it is ethical. But saying it is legal is not enough. This is where the University has failed us.

Part of the University's policy statement reads: As an educational institution, the University has a mandate to address problems of a society deeply ingrained with bias and prejudice.

But it took the courage of 160 students at a "sit-in" of the Telecommunications building in 1988 before the concerns of the Afro-American community were seriously considered. In the Whitehead case, President Jordan took more than a week to issue a languid statement condemning "misuse of University computers."

Shortly after sending his abhorrent letter, Whitehead told the Collegian (April 6, 1989) that officials "said nothing serious would really happen."

Ten months later we must say that Whitehead was ironically mistaken. What has transpired -- and failed to transpire -- since he typed his fateful message is not merely serious. It is alarming.