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Firstly, I wish to thank the Black Justice League (BJL) for its primary role in the renaming of the School of Public and International Affairs (SPIA). Fail as he may to acknowledge the BJL by name in his June 27 letter to the University community, President Eisgruber cannot erase the collective memory of Black students’ impact on Princeton. As long as students, alumni and faculty continue to amplify the real history and material forces that brought us this far — namely, the BJL’s incredible direct action against the administration five years ago — whitewashing can never win.
I spent my first two summers of high school completing state-required gym classes so that I could fit more science classes into my schedule during the academic year. Every morning, I had to run a lap on the track with my classmates under the searing July sun.
Howard Greene was finishing his graduate work at Harvard in 1963 when he received a call from a dean. Sweeping social changes were underway in the ’60s, he was told. Princeton was looking for a couple of young guys to come in and change its culture.
This letter was submitted to administrators on Tuesday, June 23. The text appears verbatim below.
“All the workings of a bank should be as visible as the wheels and mainspring of a glass-enclosed French clock,” novelist John P. Marquand writes in “Point of No Return.” The public intrinsically mistrusts people who handle money, he says, so bank officers should conduct their business with “no deception, everything open and aboveboard.” John T. Osander ’57 thought that Marquand’s advice aptly applied to his own line of work as the University’s director of admission.
With decreased air pollution in India, reduced carbon emissions in China, and improved water quality in Venice, much of the environmental rhetoric during the coronavirus pandemic has been about nature “healing” itself. Of course, there is value in the optimism gained by signs of nature’s capacity to heal, but now is not the time to ease up on environmental activism. The fight against climate change has not yet been won.
During the Great Recession of 2008, college students saw the global economy in shambles and left the humanities in droves, out of fear such areas of study would lead to unstable, low-paying jobs. Yet, when the economy recovered, they never returned.
President Eisgruber’s May 4 letter correctly diagnoses the present crisis. COVID-19 has unleashed a public health and socioeconomic catastrophe. It leaves no country, no realm of society, and no institution untouched. Where Eisgruber is wrong, however, is in the response he deems necessary. If the closest analogy we have to the pandemic is indeed a war, then the “budgetary discipline” he prescribes cannot be the answer. No war has been, nor ever could be, won with austerity. Austerity will only deepen our crisis: all to shield the University’s endowment and its investors at the expense of everyone else.
I have been feeling quite lonely during these difficult, quarantined times. I am also unhealthily ashamed for “carrying on” about my loneliness — not only because so many of us are feeling lonely right now, but also because so many people are literally dying, and so many others are mourning their loved ones who, three months ago, seemed to be doing just fine.
Princeton Students for Title IX Reform (PIXR) is a coalition of students working to reform Princeton’s implementation of Title IX and approach to campus sexual misconduct.
Tomorrow afternoon, Princeton College Republicans, The Princeton Tory, and the Clio Party will be hosting an event with Representative Jim Hagedorn (R-Minn.). In the past, Hagedorn claimed that former Senator Joe Lieberman only supported the Iraq War because he was Jewish.
For the past year, I have wanted to write about technology in education. When I first arrived at the University, I was surprised that at an institution whose endowment lies multiple orders of magnitude beyond any amount of money I could imagine, I found classrooms containing no technology more recent than electric lights or plastic chairs.
A few days ago, under the secure cover of the COVID-19 panic, the Biden assault allegations, and reports of killer wasps, a judge rejected the main claim in the lawsuit regarding U.S. Soccer and the embattled U.S. women’s national soccer team in their fight for pay equality. The press it once had is now gone, and it went otherwise unnoticed to those who weren’t actively following the matter.
While casually scrolling Facebook (for the hundredth time that day), I noticed a meme about looking like a busted can of biscuits when it comes time to go back to work, to go to the beach, go outside, etc. The comments underneath talked about how “disgusting” people would look going out to these activities and how this pandemic was good for forcing yourself to diet. I was struck with a wave of sadness.
During these unprecedented times, many people want to help the world get through the pandemic. Recently, I realized that in addition to social distancing, I can do something else — volunteer for vaccine human challenge trials. Challenge trials will speed up vaccine development and save lives.
Let us review, for a moment, the lauded financial privileges of this university. It has an endowment carefully built over centuries, valued at $26.1 billion as of last year. That works out to $3.1 million per student — by far the highest rate in the country. Compare that to Yale’s endowment-to-student ratio of “only” $2.3 million, or even to wealthier institutions like Harvard and Stanford, which trail at a distant $1.6 million per student each.
In a recent column, Kate Lee ’23 rightly suggests that we as individuals should do everything in our power to protect ourselves collectively from the pandemic that has thrown an entire globe off-kilter. Centering her analysis on the United States, she advocates for a moral reset of sorts, in which we evolve beyond the narrowness of American individualism. She urges that a communal, utilitarian mentality should take the place of mere, unenlightened self-interest. From the outset, this is a commendable sentiment.
After four years of writing an ersatz advice column for The Daily Princetonian, I am writing what is likely my last column, reflecting on the wisdom I’ve gained over my time at the University. Looking through my columns is much like reading a diary: I get to see all the things that have bothered, uplifted, and saddened me at Princeton. During sophomore year, I wrote what I believe to be my most poignant column about dealing with depression, and a year later I came to the conclusion that it was okay to be single — all on the pages of the ‘Prince.’ It’s been a pleasure and a joy to hear from people who felt I had voiced their feelings in my columns, and I’m sad to see that experience come to a close.
Since being sent home in March, I, like many of my peers, have had a lot of time to reflect on what it means to be a student in a time like this. Although it might seem contradictory to the stay-at-home orders at first, for those of us with the privilege and comfort of safe environments, now is our time to get involved. We came to Princeton to become leaders in our fields and serve the world — a pandemic isn’t the time to forget that mission, but rather the time to get to work. I’d like to think that this is the situation Sonia Sotomayor ’76 had in mind when she proposed the amendment of our school’s motto to “In the Nation’s Service and the Service of Humanity.”
When I cast my vote in the Colorado Democratic primary on Super Tuesday, there was one thing on my mind about which candidate I should support. It wasn’t about immigration, abortion, or student loans, even though those are extremely important topics in American society. I was most worried about something that hasn’t been put on the radar of most voting Americans: rural Internet access.