At least the University of Illinois is half right.

This week our state’s flagship university — and my own alma mater — filed its second appeal of an NCAA ruling mandating Illinois drop its Chief Illiniwek mascot. If it refuses, Illinois will not be permitted to host NCAA postseason events. It’s part of a larger new policy in the NCAA aimed at rooting out “hostile and abusive” Native American depictions.

In its appeal, Illinois claims this policy is “arbitrary and capricious.” And on this point, the university may be correct. Already, three other schools using Native American names or imagery such as the Florida State Seminoles, the Utah Utes and the MAC’s own Central Michigan Chippewas have been exempted from the NCAA policy. The standards for “hostile and abusive” seem slippery and ill-defined.

But the fact the policy and its enforcement are imperfect doesn’t mean the University is right for keeping the mascot. It’s like telling the state trooper on 88 you shouldn’t get a ticket for going 19 miles over the speed limit because he didn’t give tickets to people who were going five over.

A lot of the complex and emotionally-charged argument on the Chief centers on its intent. Supporters such as George Will, who recently wrote a column on the matter, claim the chief is intended to honor Native Americans as a dignified symbol, and there’s no reason to doubt them.

The problem arises during the halftime of sporting events, when the chief performs his marching-band-accompanied dance. This is not an appropriate time or place for honoring a culture. If it were, we would see other important cultural symbols performing at sporting events. A student dressed as Martin Luther King, for example, might emerge and dance. Or someone dressed as Franklin Roosevelt might come out and be pushed across the field in a wheelchair.

Yet we don’t see these symbols. We have trouble even imagining them. That’s because these are our own — symbols cherished by the dominant culture. We embrace and protect them. But as members of that dominant culture, we also have a responsibility to defend portrayals of minimized or extinct cultures, and to ensure these portrayals are accurate, appropriate and just.

I recently had an interesting correspondence with a colleague who writes for the Chicago Tribune. He pointed out that we honor America before every game by bringing out the flag and singing the National Anthem. What, he asked, is the difference between this ceremony and the chief’s dance? Why is no one demanding we stop such “disrespectful” treatment toward the United States?

His question gets to the heart of the double standard. First, consider that the flag is nearly always brought out by uniformed members of the military. We’d likely feel differently if rather than actual members of the military, it was presented by college students who entertained an audience by dressing up in costume in the uniforms and medals others have sacrificed, bled and died for.

Second, performing the “Star Spangled Banner” at sporting events is a ceremony dating back to the First World War, and was designed exclusively for such a public gathering. Chief Illiniwek’s dance, even if we accept the dubious claim that it is genuinely Native American, was certainly not invented in order to be displayed at halftime of sporting events. The act of arbitrarily juxtaposing its social context is inherently disrespectful.

An e-mail I received last year from a woman in California puts it more emphatically:

“As an American Indian and Mother, I am not raising my son … to be someone’s mascot! … It is difficult for us to see our traditional values — tribal outfits, dances and/or ceremonies — used as props for some sport! An honor is not an honor if the honoree doesn’t feel honored!”

The NCAA’s policy may be flawed. But that doesn’t excuse the University of Illinois for allowing a flawed tradition to continue.