Three cheers for Old Nassau

In a 'Prince' interview several years ago, a Student Volunteers Council leader remarked that Princeton, though far from the activist ideal, was slowly becoming a more "socially-conscious" school. Worry not, she advised students yearning for a 1960s-like college experience, for the university is inching closer to the Browns and Berkeleys of the world than its reputation might otherwise suggest.

As I leave campus, these words do not sit well with me. While schools distinguished for their political activism serve a great purpose in the spectrum of higher education opportunities — and, when I head home to the Bay Area in a few weeks, I'll definitely look for the inevitable old guy streaking across Sproul Plaza to protest the American empire — so too do schools distinguished for their moderation.

Increasingly, members of the Princeton community are split between two broad visions of the university's future. One group acknowledges imperfections in the campus climate, but flinches at sweeping proposals that aim to undermine longstanding traditions; the other looks favorably upon such proposals. The first group generally likes Princeton for what it is; the second seems intent on keeping the university's academic prestige and discarding much of the rest.

Revamping the norms that pervade undergraduate life seems daunting, but consider several powerful tools at the disposal of those for whom this task is central: the ability to select an additional 500 undergraduates, to shift to a four-year residential college system that displaces eating clubs, and to prohibit students from choosing how to spend their leisure time through an athletic practice moratorium.

As the character of this institution is transformed over time, it will attract a different type of student, who will in turn be more inclined to defend the "new Princeton" than would current students who are largely satisfied with the university. In much the same way, a university president concerned about her low approval ratings on campus can improve her image by changing the student body itself — that is, tinkering with the sample of survey respondents — rather than changing the policies evoking criticism in the first place. Changes to Princeton's culture, then, will be exceedingly difficult to reverse.

Much of the discontent motivating reformers centers on three As: apathy, alcohol and athletics. The task forces, committees and forums organized around these facets of campus life speak to their perceived significance.

Each of these knocks on present-day Princeton is rooted in a bit of truth. But, for me, the realization that these constitute the central criticisms of the campus atmosphere suggests that the university has been quite successful. If elite institutions are judged in part by comparing their worst qualities and determining which are the "least bad" — just as political scientists generally judge democracy the least dangerous form of political organization — then Princeton is in good shape. Its "vices" are, in many cases, reflections of genuinely decent and beneficial elements of campus life.

Take apathy, to begin with. In extreme manifestations, it can undermine precepts and other important learning experiences — and some of that is certainly at work here. The alternative extreme, a campus whose enthusiasm for causes-of-the-month slowly erodes its capacity for impartial judgement, is at least as intellectually damaging. Two examples should suffice here. Two years ago, when Brown's student newspaper ran in its pages a controversial advertisement criticizing slavery reparations, dozens of activists stole the entire batch of that day's papers to prevent the ad from being seen. Several members of the Brown faculty and administration supported this move. Last year, Jewish and Muslim students at Berkeley encountered harassment and repeated instances of physical assault after the Sept. 11th attacks. Bulletin boards on campus were filled with anti-Semitic slogans, including "It's the Jews, Stupid."

Contrast these to reactions to identical events at Princeton. The same advertisement concerning reparations was placed in the pages of this newspaper, without noticeable censorship and, certainly, without faculty members publicly endorsing theft. Additionally, while tension and heated debate have followed the 9/11 attacks, physical and verbal harassment have not been a conspicuous problem for minority groups.

Generally speaking, a student body that, owing to scheduling difficulties or skepticism, is not aching to join the plethora of campus activist movements is a unique specimen amongst the thousands of university communities: one marked by moderation.

Undergraduates' intimate relationship with alcohol, the much-discussed second vice, is also less worrisome that administrators might think. That students gather in a centralized location a few times weekly, drink watered-down beer, see friends, make a lot of noise and walk home, is not exactly a crisis. If anything, administrators might want to add several different venues for sensible undergraduate drinking, both with other students and professors. To the extent that administrators are concerned with a broader drinking problem among college-age kids, they're probably on to something. The basic point remains, however: Regular examples of Princeton students enjoying themselves merely signal that students here, for all their academic talents, can have a good time.

As for Princeton's athletic prowess relative to other high-caliber schools, as well as the time and energy student-athletes put into achieving physical excellence, I'm not sure these are vices of the first-order — or at all, for that matter. Sporting events can unify students unlike almost any other activity, reunions included. Moreover, the assortment of high-ranking figures in the political and business worlds should remind us that the discipline and teamwork fostered by athletic contests are good predictors of future leadership ability. (A related issue, whether some admitted student-athletes are not capable of excelling academically, is one that is difficult to comment on without undisclosed admissions data.)

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If, four years ago, a representative from Princeton had told me that the worst aspects of campus life were political moderation, excessive drinking, and a unique emphasis on athletics, I would have been impressed.

Apparently, some administrators are not so inclined. To them, I quote my friend and alumnus Matthew Schwartz '00, who said of his Princeton experience: "As a non-athlete, I liked having athletes on campus. As a Jew, I loved the bicker process and my eating club. As a political activist, I enjoyed the reasoned and calm discourse on issues. As a city and suburb boy, I loved Princeton's rural living. Princeton was and is a special place, unique from other schools of similar caliber. Its uniqueness has only helped the reputation of the school and the enjoyment of the student body. The administrators should curb their desires to morph Princeton into Brown or Yale and keep what is great about the school."

I'll drink to that.

Brad Simmons is a politics major from San Jose, Calif.