Now that congressional Democrats have relaunched an effort to ban legacy admissions at top US universities, virtually everyone can count on one thing: ideological embarrassment.
Legacy admissions are part of a broader system whereby elite US colleges and universities largely favor wealthy families in their admissions practices. It is possible to buy your way into those institutions — whether by being born into a legacy family that is considered likely to make a donation, or by being the child of someone who actually makes a large donation. About 43 percent of white students admitted to Harvard are recruited athletes, legacies, from the “dean’s interest” list (which is often related to donations), or children of faculty and staff.
There are any number of motives behind these admissions practices, but a major one is the desire to bring in money and boost endowments.
Illustration: Mountain People
As someone who stands to the political right of most of my fellow university faculty and administrators, I have no qualms accepting the argument that colleges and universities need to grow wealthier. That can mean tolerating various inequalities in the short run, because in the longer run academia could produce more innovation that benefits virtually everyone, including the poor.
This is not the kind of argument many on the political left find appealing. In tax policy, for example, such reasoning — the idea that short-run inequality can bring longer-run benefits — is often derided as “trickle-down economics.” And yet virtually any fan of the Ivies has to embrace this idea. The best defense of the admissions policies of the US’ most prestigious universities is a right-leaning argument that they are deeply uncomfortable with.
DEI POLICIES
So instead they tie themselves into knots to give the impression that they are open and egalitarian. To boost their image, minimize lawsuits and perhaps assuage their own feelings of institutional guilt, top US schools adopt what are known as DEI policies, to promote diversity, equity and inclusion.
The “inclusion” part of that equation is hardest for them to defend. Top-tier universities accept only a small percentage of applicants — below 4 percent at Stanford University last year, for example. How inclusive can such institutions be? Everyone knows that these schools are elitist at heart, and that they (either directly or indirectly) encourage their students and faculty to take pride at belonging to such a selective institution. Most of all, the paying parents are encouraged to be proud as well. Who exactly is being fooled here?
So the top schools have the choice of either sounding hypocritical, or defending themselves with right-leaning rhetoric. They choose hypocrisy.
Of course, that hurts their reputation. The public might not know much about the details of the latest campus controversy at Princeton or Columbia, but they have a strong sense that these kinds of elite schools are hypocritical when it comes to their admissions practices. This sense has only been magnified by campus conflicts and protests over the Israel-Hamas war. Again, most US citizens are not playing close attention, but universities might have a hard time convincing the public that they are treating protesters and activists fairly because the public already believes they do not treat applicants fairly.
Yes, there are also ideological tensions on the right. Conservatives are accustomed to attacking top universities for being too left-wing, and indeed the data support that contention. Maybe they would have a different view of elite higher education if they saw it as one of the US’ leading practitioners of trickle-down economics.
IMPLICATIONS OF A BAN
Banning legacy admissions would also require a rather drastic insertion of the federal government into the business and admissions practices of private-sector universities, especially once enforcement issues are considered (“Well, we didn’t accept you ‘just’ because your dad went here”). Still, I do not expect conservative politicians to go to the mat for Yale or Dartmouth, even though the libertarian strand of Republican Party thought would suggest doing so.
As for me, I teach at a state university — George Mason University — that accepts about 90 percent of all applicants. If someone has a chance of succeeding, we offer them the opportunity to show that. Not all institutions can or should work this way, but mine is an inclusive university, and I am proud of that.
I thus have the luxury of opposing the new anti-legacy-admissions bill for two mutually reinforcing reasons. First, it reflects an unjustified expansion of federal powers over higher education. Even if you are anti-legacy, or want to rein in the Ivy League, you might not be happy about how those federal powers could be used the next time around.
Second, I do not mind a world where the US’ top schools practice and implicitly endorse trickle-down economics. Someone has to carry the banner forward, and perhaps someday this Trojan horse would prove decisive in intellectual battle. In the meantime, I have my cudgel — hypocrisy among the educational elite — and I, too, can feel better about myself.
Tyler Cowen is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist, a professor of economics at George Mason University and host of the Marginal Revolution blog. This column does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners.
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) caucus whip Fu Kun-chi (傅?萁) has caused havoc with his attempts to overturn the democratic and constitutional order in the legislature. If we look at this devolution from the context of a transition to democracy from authoritarianism in a culturally Chinese sense — that of zhonghua (中華) — then we are playing witness to a servile spirit from a millennia-old form of totalitarianism that is intent on damaging the nation’s hard-won democracy. This servile spirit is ingrained in Chinese culture. About a century ago, Chinese satirist and author Lu Xun (魯迅) saw through the servile nature of
In their New York Times bestseller How Democracies Die, Harvard political scientists Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt said that democracies today “may die at the hands not of generals but of elected leaders. Many government efforts to subvert democracy are ‘legal,’ in the sense that they are approved by the legislature or accepted by the courts. They may even be portrayed as efforts to improve democracy — making the judiciary more efficient, combating corruption, or cleaning up the electoral process.” Moreover, the two authors observe that those who denounce such legal threats to democracy are often “dismissed as exaggerating or
Monday was the 37th anniversary of former president Chiang Ching-kuo’s (蔣經國) death. Chiang — a son of former president Chiang Kai-shek (蔣介石), who had implemented party-state rule and martial law in Taiwan — has a complicated legacy. Whether one looks at his time in power in a positive or negative light depends very much on who they are, and what their relationship with the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) is. Although toward the end of his life Chiang Ching-kuo lifted martial law and steered Taiwan onto the path of democratization, these changes were forced upon him by internal and external pressures,
The Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) caucus in the Legislative Yuan has made an internal decision to freeze NT$1.8 billion (US$54.7 million) of the indigenous submarine project’s NT$2 billion budget. This means that up to 90 percent of the budget cannot be utilized. It would only be accessible if the legislature agrees to lift the freeze sometime in the future. However, for Taiwan to construct its own submarines, it must rely on foreign support for several key pieces of equipment and technology. These foreign supporters would also be forced to endure significant pressure, infiltration and influence from Beijing. In other words,