As St. Thomas students, we owe more than we could ever repay to old and new patrons of the university. We live on one of the most beautiful campuses in the country and enjoy outstanding facilities almost entirely thanks to the generosity of donors and the hard work of devoted administrators.

But naming so many buildings after these benefactors may not be the right way to pay them back.

Having the campus spotted with donor names is more than just confusing for navigating campus the first time; naming so many buildings after recent benefactors harms the symbolic value of building names.

Libraries and classrooms are not merely titled for expediency. The names engraved on campus architecture carry symbolic importance. They publicly declare the people after whom the community models itself. They make a statement about the values of the campus.

Especially when overused, the names of contemporary benefactors do not serve this symbolic purpose.

Consider this illustrative case: St. Thomas is recognized by its famous stone arches. Prior to 2000, these arches connect Albertus Magnus Hall to Aquinas Hall. Albertus Magnus, of course, was St. Thomas Aquinas’ great teacher. By naming these buildings after St. Albert and St. Thomas, the university symbolically declared its goal as an institution. It was an institution that would bridge the gap between the greatest teachers and the greatest students. Now that is symbolism.

In contrast, today on the St. Paul campus, we have four buildings named O’Shaughnessey and three buildings named Anderson. Most buildings on campus are named after a recent (administrative or financial) benefactor. On Sept. 21, 2000, Albertus Magnus Hall was renamed the John Roach Center for Liberal Arts for Roach’s service to St. Thomas and the Catholic church. This is not symbolism.

One reason why contemporary namesakes carry less symbolic value is that contemporary namesakes are not known quantities. History has had eight centuries to judge Albertus Magnus. All the failings and victories of his intellectual labor and moral life have been revealed.

Perhaps it is conceivable that Archbishop John Roach or I.A. O’Shaughnessy will someday be considered among the greats. Or perhaps they will be forgotten or worse. What is clear, however, is that until their legacy has had time to play out in history, it is hard to see any symbolic meaning in their name etched above a doorway.

I am not making any claims about the actual legacy of recent benefactors. Nor certainly pretending any superiority to them. My name, by the exact same reasoning, would have far less meaning than theirs above a building. At least they are a symbol of dedication and generosity to St. Thomas.

But recent benefactors also make for poor namesakes because if it is generally acceptable to name buildings after donors, then donations and building names lose their genuine significance.

How can the university express its gratitude to a donor when the donor will never be able to tell whether the university is simply making a public gesture of thanks in order to attract more donors?

We have to be honest with ourselves and recognize that having too many buildings named after the same donors breeds a lot of cynicism – whether about St. Thomas’ gratitude or about the donor’s intentions.

I have no doubt that someone who donates $60 million does so out of genuine selfless generosity. It would be wrong to presume otherwise.

However, there’s something distasteful about naming buildings after these donors in appreciation for their donations. Symbolically, it denigrates the meaning of the donation. It should feel objectively insulting to the donor – especially when it becomes regular practice.

Elliot Polsky can be reached at pols4319@stthomas.edu.