President Hiram Chodosh sits down to answer tough questions in a final exit interview. This interview has been edited for length and clarity. Image credit: Jasper Langley-Hawthorne President Hiram Chodosh is Claremont McKenna College’s fifth president, assuming the position after serving as Dean of the University of Utah’s S.J. Quinney College of Law. After thirteen years in the role, President Chodosh will be succeeded by former Washington & Lee president William C. Dudley. President Chodosh’s wife, Priya Junnar, will also depart as Director of the Athenaeum. In December 2012, the editors in chief of the Claremont Independent, The Forum, and the now-defunct Claremont Portside published an entrance interview with then president-elect Chodosh. Today’s exit interview was coordinated by the Independent and conducted by the 2026-27 editors in chief of the Independent and The Forum. Dhriti Jagadish: Thank you so much for sitting down with us. First question: What is your fondest memory at CMC? President Chodosh: These fondest memory questions are really hard because there are so many. So let's see. There are a number of moments that flash before my eyes. My very first semester, in late September, I was ponded by students. That's probably the first one that comes to mind. The second is the dedication of the [Robert Day Science Center] building and just standing there, looking up at everybody and just taking it all in, like, “How did this possibly happen?” But the reason that's such a hard question is that my favorite moments are the quiet ones — sometimes in this room with students who are trying to get over some big challenge or have some new opportunity that they're trying to think through. It's that moment of both finding within them some capability that maybe they didn't think they had, or a solution to the problem that they didn't think they could create, and at the same time heightening their own expectations of what they thought they could do. Those are the moments that matter to me most, and in some ways are the most memorable. Kendall White: The school has changed a lot over your tenure, and a lot of those changes have been positive. But what is one worrying or negative trend that you've noticed and how do you think the school should address that moving forward? President Chodosh: I think that there are a number of external pressures, specifically, that bear on your generation that are of continuous concern. The first is the ways in which, as precocious young people, you try to decode what success is. Sometimes that leads to benchmarking that then gets internalized as an instrumental and linear strategy of working back from a result. People call this hyper-credentialism, but my way of thinking about it [is that] it's a kind of linear instrumentalism, of feeling that “I have to do this today in order to get there tomorrow.” The problem with that thinking is that the world is way too complex to lay out such a neat linear plan. Often, the people that follow those linear plans don't have as much to contribute to opportunities to lead and have impact. The understandable pressure and stress that's reinforced by parents and employers — and accelerated interview schedules and tracking of early internships — has a corrosive impact on openness, curiosity, exploration, [and] mastery of disciplines that broaden the base of your learning capabilities. In the end, [these] are the most important long-term sustaining assets you can develop. Now, I think we do a pretty good job in our highly dynamic and aspirational environment, mitigating that [linear instrumentalism] with a very strong community ethos of mutual support, friendship, and social warmth. When I had seniors over the other night, no one was talking first about their future plans — I had to kind of tease that out of them. They were talking about the special experiences that they had here, the relationships, [and] the special inflection points [when] taking on big challenges. That [linear instrumentalism] is an exogenous force that bears on all of you in a very significant way, particularly at a time where everyone's telling you that the job that you've been preparing for won't exist — that there's going to be this huge disruption, and that the pressures on the entry-level job market are the canary in the mine. Of course, I want each of you to be fluent in the decoding of the world. I want you to be completely fluent in how the world thinks conventionally about you, so that you can manage and navigate those conventions. But I never want you to substitute that for your own inner values framework and the honoring of your own emotional, intellectual resources. Dhriti Jagadish: Thank you for that response. But just to complicate it a little bit, this hyper-credentialism you speak of — CMC is partly responsible, right? We have 11 research institutes that freshmen, from the get-go, feel like they need to apply to. We have the Soll Center, which emails you throughout the semester saying, “Meet with us, meet with us.” Perhaps the seniors are reflective and maybe a bit wistful, but freshmen, sophomores, and even juniors, are still stuck in this rat race. And of course, CMC’s mission is explicitly forward-looking, professional[ly]-oriented. CMC says that this complements the liberal arts education, but over the past 13 years, have you seen this ethos [of] pre-professionalism detract from the liberal arts? President Chodosh: First of all, the massive opportunities that we provide are not responsible for the rat race that you call it. I think there are aspects of the culture, [such as] when people arrive they're trying to decode what the high-prestige opportunities are. Sometimes they look very narrowly at those and so there's a bit of a feeding frenzy. Then after a while, that kind of calms down [as] people hit a wall here and a wall there. In fact, the second phase of this is that [students] settle down into, “Okay, I'm doing way too much. Where should I focus?” And then they get into a much deeper set of focal points. That's not altogether a rat race in that negative way — that is actually a way of discovering what your inner purpose is. There are things that we still need to work on in terms of making sure that entry points into [CMC’s] channels of opportunity are not too early and that [they’re] not foreclosed. That's something that we've been working on institutionally, but it's hard because a lot of [CMC’s] programs have their own autonomy, which is a good thing. I think that the way that you framed it is inconsistent with my own conception of what we've always been trying to do. We're trying to create a virtuous cycle of liberal arts and leadership experience—not as a balance, not as a competition, even though, in a given moment, things might compete. What we've really tried to do is to create a virtuous cycle in which, yes, you're learning through experience, but then reflecting on [this] experience: “I need to now get deeper into my studies so that the next time I go around this block, I've got more sophistication, more knowledge, more capabilities to offer to that experiential opportunity.” I would say that the research institutes [and] the student organizations — particularly those that are very simulation-oriented — whether it's Mock Trial, Model UN, or the consulting firms that we have — are all laboratories in which students are not just building up their credentials, but they're actually building up their learning capabilities. By the time they graduate, they've had a massive amount of experience and they've also had a level of deep learning through things like a thesis requirement — which far too many universities have relaxed and very few actually take seriously. At the end of that, what I see are students who are deeply and broadly educated, who have a good sense of what gives them joy and what their strengths are, and who are understandably nervous and insecure about what that's going to mean in this future. But [they] are as well prepared as any student body in the country to take those things on without losing themselves in the next stage of competition, [in] the attempt to not only make a living but make a life. Kendall White: CMC has a great reputation for preparing students for fruitful careers, as you just spoke about. Another thing that CMC has a reputation for is its free speech climate. Aside from a couple of blemishes over the past couple of years, the school still maintains a high profile in the world of free speech and open expression on campus. But I guess this leads to a potential contradiction. Does CMC’s desire to maintain this free speech reputation come at the expense of not taking riskier moves, [such as] bringing in more controversial speakers to campus, someone like [Republican gubernatorial candidate] Chad Bianco? Or for speakers on the Israel-Palestine conflict, does the bar for security or ID checks at the door close down opportunities for conversation or prevent those speakers from coming to campus in the first place? President Chodosh: First of all, when you take into account the Athenaeum, Open Academy salons, and the total gamut of guest speakers in classes, I do think we have an extremely wide gamut of voices here. I think that there are limitations to some of the figures that people ask about. One, of course, is whether they're here for educational purposes and whether the programs are designed for educational purposes. That's a really important set of values we have to keep in mind: not just to create controversy or to provoke, but to actually make sure that whatever event we've designed is one that's educational in purpose. The second thing is that security matters. There is this very important relationship between security and safety on the one hand and freedom on the other. I mean, you don't have to think very hard to understand the profound nature of that relationship. If I'm insecure as a person, I'm much less likely to speak up. I'm much less likely to learn from someone else. I'm much less likely to walk across the street if I'm scared of what might occur to me. If I create some level of safety, both physical safety and emotional safety, I have a much better chance of challenging the assumptions that I have, my worldview, [and] my opinions about certain issues. When we have people coming to campus that pose safety or security concerns, we have a very rigorous approach to that. A lot of that you never see; we make [it] as stealth as we possibly can, so there isn't that visibility, always, of the security. And then there are other times where that visibility is very important, and then we take that very seriously. And so I don't see these [values] as contradictory. I see them as integral and in their interrelationships and interdependencies. Some of my colleagues and I wrote a piece years ago on how universities and colleges were responding to sexual assault, and it was called “Safety and Freedom: Let's Get It Together” and you can look back at some of the language in that as evidence of this underlying theory of the relationship between these two things. Dhriti Jagadish: You have spearheaded the college's dialogue programs, namely Open Academy [OA] and the CARE Center. Yet, some believe that the Open Academy's events are catered to conservatives, while others believe the CARE Center is a kind of safe space away from the rest of campus discourse. Are these institutions at odds with each other? And if these are just misconceptions, how do we address these institutional silos in the areas of dialogue? President Chodosh: I think that these are misconceptions [regarding] the origins of both of these institutional efforts. I think that at times, from a sociological or cultural point of view, you can see that people project into these institutions either what they want out of them or a negative view of what they don't want. Sometimes institutions like this are [a] Rorschach test for the community. You'll see someone who's not very well-informed making a projection about a certain political angle of something that's completely uninformed because they're just seeing what they want to see. It's a kind of implicit bias or salience problem. If you actually look at Open Academy programming — if you actually look at the full extent of it — I defy anyone to evidence a political bias in it. If you actually look at what's done in the CARE Center and the difficult conversations that they have, I defy anyone to identify a political, you know, an explicit political bias, in what they're doing. Obviously, everything that we do has a political aspect to it. I'm not saying everything's apolitical. I'm just saying that it's not in that design. This year, I know that there was a very strong attempt to bring OA and the CARE Center together, so let's just reflect on that: To actually have a dialogue about that problem — or that perceived problem — and then also to recognize that the CARE Center is actually leading peer to peer dialogue sessions throughout the community. The first experience that students have when they come [is] dialogue training run by [CARE Center Director] Vince Greer, and Vince Greer and [Open Academy Director] Ioannis Evrigenis are working hand-in-hand in terms of advancing our Open Academy and CARE goals. I would draw your attention back to the fall of 2013 when I started the very first initiative that was the genesis for this: conversations in my living room. I had young alums come back just two weekends ago, say[ing], “Oh, Hiram, we were there at the beginning of both CARE and Open Academy at your living room table.” And these were conversations over race. These were conversations over the Middle East with Muslim students and Jewish students, separately and then together. That created the very first initiative called Personal and Social Responsibility. If you look back at one of the prongs of that initiative, it was free expression and diversity, in one prong. I've always seen these things as vitally interconnected. And so even if there's sometimes drift [in these programs], or if there's a kind of sociological or cultural or political offset, you're always trying to bring them back to that singular lane and common root system. Kendall White: Another thing we were wondering is how CMC, and you, under your tenure, have approached the issue of administrative bloat, which, over the past two decades, has really taken off, and the numbers on this are a little hard to find, but it seems that CMC has experienced some of this, but not to the same degree as the neighboring Claremont Colleges. So— President Chodosh: What's your evidence of bloat? Kendall White: The numbers of administrators have grown, especially, you know, at— President Chodosh: In proportion to what? Kendall White: Pomona and Scripps, in proportion to faculty— President Chodosh: Do you have the data on it? Kendall White: and students growing— President Chodosh: Do you have the data on it? Kendall White: I mean, we've looked through the websites and Internet Archive-d how many administrators were here. It's absolutely the case that Pomona, Scripps, Pitzer, they hire more and more administrators and— President Chodosh: Are you talking about their bloat, or are you talking about our bloat? Kendall White: I'm talking about it as an endemic issue in higher education, so I’m asking how have you approached this as an issue— President Chodosh: Okay. Fair enough. Kendall White: and do you think CMC has bucked the trend or— President Chodosh: I just don't accept the characterization of us as bloat. Kendall White: Yeah, I understand that, I— President Chodosh: That's where you started, though. Kendall White: I said in higher education. President Chodosh: We've managed this very, very rigorously. If you look at the proportion of staff to faculty, the proportion of staff to students as our student body has grown — as our faculty has grown — I think you'll find a proportionate increase of staff. Second, we don't increase staff until we actually have a business model and the resources to increase staff. Third though, I would just bring attention to some of the underlying reasons why staff in higher ed has grown. One, it used to be that faculty, in part, took on a much greater set of responsibilities for student support. We went into an era where we wanted faculty to focus a lot more on their research, their teaching, and their self-governance. As student services increased, [staff] helped faculty alleviate some of those burdens. I think our faculty do an excellent job here in terms of student engagement, care, relationships, and mentoring. But I'm just saying generally in higher ed, that has been one of the factors. The second is that there are a lot of upstream reasons for the need for student services. We have generations of students that have much greater needs in terms of disability accommodation, in terms of support for what has been a pandemic of mental health difficulties, and also a kind of parenting culture, if you will, that I think has in some ways disabled or disempowered [young people’s] self-regulation, self-efficacy, [and] ability to take care of themselves. And so there are some upstream factors that have contributed to what you describe as the growth of the staff burden that that schools have taken on. In comparison to our peers, given the kind of challenges that we've taken on [and] the massive projects we've accomplished, I think that our staff-to-product ratio is extremely favorable. Just in the area of advancement, which includes our development group, our alumni and parent relations group, and our communications group, we were spending three cents on every dollar raised. Three cents — probably the lowest mark in higher education you'd find. Compared to that would be something between six and eight cents. In the nonprofit sector, 20 cents on the dollar is considered still good. If you looked at what we've been able to do — if you looked at our facilities team, and what we're actually spending in terms of managing the Robert Day Sciences Center and the Sports Bowl, and our public art program, [and] the constant improvement of our facilities — I think you'd find that very favorable. If you look at the Soll Center, the internship programs and student experience programs are funded almost entirely by philanthropy, and those staff positions [are] funded through philanthropy. If you look at the support for our research institutes, it's incredibly minimal staff support for the amount of product, the amount of opportunities for advanced research that we support. So I think, yes, there's some upstream drivers for this. We've managed this very carefully in terms of ratios. We've also been very careful to [ensure] that we're not funding staff positions through short-term philanthropy, but through long, sustained philanthropy. Then when you look at what we're producing, what we're contributing, I put our staff investments up against anyone in the country. Dhriti Jagadish: And as we're winding down here, the penultimate question, what's next for you? President Chodosh: I will keep [a] very strong connection here. I have a faculty position that will allow me to teach in the future. I have to take some time off from here next year, but we'll come back — and that is still an open question exactly how I'm going to use that [position]. I have a long-term, multi-year visiting fellowship at Oxford to spread out a little bit and to enjoy the benefits of another learning community. [There are] some projects to potentially do with [Oxford] in connection to an emerging partnership with CMC. Second, I have a number of projects that I want to continue working on. We have a big higher ed collaboration through the Institute for Citizens and Scholars. I will continue to be involved with peers across the country to disseminate a lot of the programmatic investments that we've made here through the Open Academy and other programs. I have some of my three-decade old projects in institutional justice reform, judicial independence, and South Asian mediation that I'll continue to work on. But then, to drive through those projects, I have one idea that I've been cultivating to see if I can attack two pretty significant problems at once in our civic sector. The first is to recognize that our civic sector is very fragmented. We have between 1.6 million and 2 million nonprofit organizations in the United States. They do tremendous work [and] benefit a lot of people, but they also are siloed, fragmented and, [to] some degree, in zero-sum competition with one another for the same financial, human, and reputational resources. The competition is good, but there's tremendous opportunity cost in the lack of collaboration. It's very rare that, given a social or civic problem, an organization that's really good at response collaborates with one that's really good at prevention. It's rare that one that's very good at deep impact collaborates with one that's very good at scaling, and very few have agentic or strong evaluation capabilities. So the first part is to see if I can elevate the very best of those civic leaders or nonprofits to create a fabric of comparative strengths at a higher level of vision, strategy, resources, evaluation, and execution. To do that, there are two major adjustments in the incentive structure that have to be addressed. The first is just ego. You have to convince people that they can have a much greater impact through other organizations than on their own. But second, you have to address the bottom-line financial limitations of each organization and its budgetary responsibilities to itself. And to do that, you need an integrated bargain to come in from some other philanthropic source [and] invest in the collaboration itself rather than in individual institutions. So that's the first problem. The second related problem is that we have a very high accumulation of wealth in society that's not entering the philanthropic sector in proportion. If you look at philanthropy over the last half century on a real dollar per annum basis, we've seen increases in philanthropic contributions of only 2.6 percent. Over the last decade, it's been even less: 2.3 percent. Why? Well, one of the many reasons is that a lot of people in control of this wealth don't see good options in the civic sector. They see the same fragmentation and silo effect and lack of good, common, uniform evaluation methodologies and metrics that I do. The thesis is to offer the potential of bringing that wealth to new models of collaboration in the civic sector as a way of putting it to best use — to actually move the wheel, rather than to just improve some little tread on the tire of the wheel. That idea is something I'm going to try to drive into these ongoing projects and possibly some others that develop, to see if I can actually tackle those two problems with what I call a chicken and egg solution. Kendall White: All right, our last question is, what's next for CMC? What are you optimistic about looking to the future? What's on the horizon? President Chodosh: The first — already baked in and green-lighted — are some very exciting plans for the campus. The Sports Bowl will be done this summer. The next economics building for the Robert Day School, [Records Hall], will be built probably within the next few years. When that's built, we'll probably be able to take down Bauer South and extend the North Mall all the way from Kravis Center to the Robert Day Sciences Center. When the football field, track, and lacrosse fields are built, football will go across, soccer will move down to the football field, the track will go away, the stadium features will go away, and then we'll also be able to build our diagonal mall running from the Robert Day Sciences Center down to Roberts Pavilion. There's a lot more that becomes possible with those infrastructural changes. Second, what I see is growing interest in our humanities programs, political economy and policy groups, our finance and economics cluster for surfacing in more explicit and formal ways: the most cutting-edge pedagogies and experiences for students, project-based learning, [and] collaborative leadership. [We want to] double down in the humanities, on the imagination, on intuition, on creativity, on the things that I think are even more important than ever before, those traditional liberal arts, [to give students the] ability to frame a really good question in a world where knowledge and information, to some extent, is being commodified through AI. And I see this sort of elevation of those laboratories, [that] project-based learning [in] what we've done with the Integrated Sciences curriculum and the Kravis Department. [It’s] just an amazing opportunity for the college, and I can see this in the leadership of our faculty, the interests of our students, and the draw of the attractiveness of these programs to donors. Third, I hope the school will continue to work on some really creative structural thinking about the way we price our education. We've started modeling different approaches that would create a much less asymmetric signal to potential applicants about what [CMC] actually costs and a much more transparent way of pricing out the education — and in my view, a much more sensible way of pricing it against the actual ability to pay, in ways that counter the national perversion of pricing against family income. For Americans making $100,000 or less, the price of education for four-year college programs runs about 77 percent of their income. That's just unsustainable. We have a very generous financial aid program, the Kravis Opportunity Fund, and tremendous social support to make sure that we are continuing to be the best in social mobility for students who are coming from families with fewer resources, to be able to, if they choose, earn a very generous living. But I think we have to face the big challenges with how higher ed has created this system of financial aid. That said, the college is in this extraordinary position to tell the story that [CMC] can do many things that other institutions think you have to make tough choices about. In particular, we can establish an environment that is very strong on free expression [with] a politically engaged and sophisticated student body, and also have a student body that's committed to social warmth and connection. Friendships should be regarded as not the cost of a difficult conversation, but the foundation for one. Telling that story and drawing new and more expansive audiences to that story is going to be an ongoing opportunity and an ongoing dividend for the kinds of investments that we've all made. Kendall White: All right, thank you so much for sitting down with us. President Chodosh: Thank you. This article was published in conjunction with the Claremont Independent.

BY CLAREMONT STUDENTS FOR JUSTICE IN PALESTINE “If you want to stop Netenyahuism from growing, you have to fight to liberate the Palestinians. You have to fight to emancipate the Palestinians… As long as the Palestinians are occupied, Netenyahuism is the most adequate form of government in Israel.” Dr. Vjiay Prashad’s observation expresses Claremont Students for Justice in Palestine’s essential understanding: there can be no democracy in Israel until Palestine is liberated. The current objections held by liberal Israelis are misplaced. Netanyahu is a product of the occupation of Palestine, not a historical anomaly. Because the occupation itself systematically impedes civil and human rights, the author’s claims that the University of Haifa is “liberal” and “opposed to the Netanyahu government” have no relevance to our campaign, which specifically asks for Pitzer to suspend this study abroad program until: 1) the Israeli state ends its restrictions on entry to Israel based on ancestry and/or political speech and 2) the Israeli state adopts policies granting visas for exchanges to Palestinian universities on a fully equal basis as it does to Israeli universities. The implication that Israeli universities are “natural allies” to SJP’s cause is a gross inaccuracy. As detailed in SJP’s campaign website, the University of Haifa directly opposes Palestinian liberation. Teddy Katz, former Israeli graduate student, interviewed over 135 Palestinians and Israelis to investigate the Tantura massacre for his graduate thesis. Despite receiving glowing academic reviews, the University of Haifa revoked his degree and accused him of libel. Allies to whom, then? One can only assume the author once again means “liberal” Israelis. The author also claims that a boycott eliminates the educational “opportunity” to study abroad in “the West Bank” or “in the Gaza Strip.” First, this begs the question of who exactly this “opportunity” is for, considering there are Palestinian students at the Claremont Colleges who would not be allowed to participate. There are over 7 million Palestinian refugees today, and many of them cannot enter the entirety of occupied Palestine because the Israeli government denies their right to return. An academic institution, such as the University of Haifa, that resides in this inaccessible territory is not an institution that values all students equally. Without all students being able to study abroad at the University, the institution is antithetical to academic freedom. Further, the University of Haifa is located about 100 miles North of Gaza and 20 miles Northwest of the West Bank. Mentions of both the Gaza Strip and the West Bank are inaccurate and misguided, as the Israeli military consistently controls who enters these areas, including the passing of new restrictions in September 2022. Between 1947 and 1948, more than 40,000 Palestinian citizens of Haifa were forced from their homes. The University of Haifa was founded 15 years later, in 1963, on this stolen land. Next, the author falsely uses “Arab” and “Palestinian” interchangeably. The fact that the University of Haifa is “more than 40% Arab” has no bearing in reference to how many Palestinian students attend the University and, more importantly, obscures the racist reality of the occupation that undoubtedly influences their education. As stated by historian and activist Ilan Pappé: Half of the Palestinian students at the University of Haifa suffered from racist policies by the universities and attitudes by their lectures. Even during Ramadan, the university and the lectures did not allow any concessions as they would for Jewish students for their holidays. These are not marginal actions, but integral parts of the university policy. The author’s claim that the University is the “most diverse school in the Middle East” - a source for this would be nice - demonstrates a fundamental misunderstanding of what diversity and equity actually mean. Palestinian students that make up this “diversity” are subject to racist policies and an inequitable education. Further, traveling to occupied Palestine to speak to these students and “learn first-hand” from them prioritizes non-Palestinian students’ desire to reach their own “conclusions” above the lived experiences of Palestinian students at the University, as well as negating the decades of work of Palestinian activists and scholars. The author then, randomly, invokes anti-Arab stereotypes, seemingly aiming to portray the state of Israel as a beacon of equity while painting a brush over the rest of the MENA region, citing discrimination against women, migrants, and LGBTQ communities. While there is truth to the claim that these marginalized communities face discrimination in Lebanon, these complex socio-political structures cannot be summarized in a single sentence. For further reading on the experiences of sexual minorities in Lebanon, we recommend Disruptive Situations by Ghassan Moussawi, as well as this response to the ethnography and how it connects to pinkwashing. The author, along with many students learning about SJP’s campaign, then asks, “Why Israel?” Firstly, the US funnels billions of dollars in military aid to Israel annually, amounting to a total of about $260 billion given to Israel by the US since 1946. The University of Haifa itself is home to Israeli army cadet programs, demonstrating a direct relationship between the University and the Israeli Occupation Forces that the US government funds. As discussed in “Why Israel?” by Pitzer Professor Daniel Segal, Israel relies on US military aid to continue the occupation of Palestine. Pitzer College, therefore, has a responsibility to withdraw any relationship it has with the state of Israel that contributes to the ongoing occupation. The second reason discussed by Professor Segal is that Palestinians themselves are asking for US support through BDS (boycott, divest, sanction) campaigns. Palestinian students at the University of Haifa have voiced support for academic boycotts, stating: We the Palestinian students in Haifa University refuse to be used as ‘the diversity’ pretension to whitewash its racist policies towards Palestinian students…Since we the Palestinian students in Haifa University are banned from supporting or calling for the boycott of Israeli universities and Israeli academia in general, we thank the rallying students for rising the Palestinian cause in American universities. Supporting the current call to suspend Pitzer’s study abroad to Haifa is one way that we, as students in the US, can support Palestinian liberation. The Pitzer student body and faculty of 2018-19 understood the importance of this boycott when they voted to suspend the program then. We hope the current student body will once again heed the call of Palestinians and reaffirm Pitzer’s support for this boycott. To learn more about Suspend Pitzer Haifa, visit SJP’s website. In solidarity, Claremont SJP

Meet the five staff members of The Forum. Name: Henry Long Role: Editor-in-Chief Hometown: Eden Prairie, Minnesota Major: Philosophy, Politics, & Economics (PPE) Class: 2025 From Henry: I am excited to edit and direct The Forum this year! Last year, I wrote about the liberal arts, student protest, and free speech. This year, I look forward to publishing our political attitudes survey and our profiles in American political thought. I also hope to publish pieces from students across a wide range of viewpoints. Name: Henry Fina Role: Editor Hometown: Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania Major: Philosophy, Politics, & Economics (PPE) Class: 2025 From Henry: Hi! I am from Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania, where I enjoy roaming around Appalachian forests with my dog. When I’m on-campus working you can find me editing The Forum and reading for my seminars. I spend my free time skiing, diving into American classics, discovering new music, coaching lacrosse, and (poorly) tending to my plants. Name: Josh Morganstein Role: Editor Hometown: Orinda, California Major: International Relations + Philosophy, Politics, & Economics (PPE) Class: 2025 From Josh: Editing The Forum this year is an honor, and will certainly become a highlight of senior year. I’m looking forward to writing about campus news, constitutional law, and international issues, amongst other topics! Besides being a news-junkie, I love to read classics, grab coffee with friends, and play chess and soccer. Name: Julia Mehlman Role: Staff Writer Hometown: Bethesda, Maryland Major: Philosophy & Public Affairs (PPA) Class: 2025 From Julia: I am excited to be at The Forum again this year! Beyond The Forum, I like to hang out with friends, go sailing, play tennis, do the crossword, and cook. On campus, I work at KLI, am a member of CMCSA, and do a cappella, but you can usually find me in Poppa. This year, I hope to write about changing campus culture, the election and its consequences, and politics more generally. Name: Sara Arjomand Role: Staff Writer Hometown: Los Angeles, California Major: Philosophy Class: 2026 From Sara: I like writing about people, going for walks, reading, and watching Tottenham (lose). Although writing for The Forum is a job, it doesn’t feel like one—it’s a chance to do what I’d want to do anyway, and to do it with friends.

Read The Forum's interview with Glenn Loury—economist and professor emeritus at Brown University. This interview has been edited for length and clarity. Image Credit: Brown University Deborah Aguirre: Today we're interviewing economist and public intellectual Dr. Glenn Loury. Dr. Loury is the Merton P. Stoltz Professor Emeritus of Social Sciences and Professor Emeritus of Economics at Brown University, as well as a fellow at the Hoover Institution. For decades, his work has bridged the gap between complex econometric theory and the immediate realities of public policy. But beyond the data, he is also a model of philosophical exploration. He is the author of numerous influential works, including his highly acclaimed 2024 memoir, Late Admissions: Confessions of a Black Conservative, where he opens up about his most personal milestones and mistakes through life, as well as his newly released 2025 book, Self-Censorship, which dissects the social pressures that stifle free expression. Dr. Loury, thank you for joining us. Glenn Loury: You're welcome. Caleb Rasor: For starters, much of your academic work over the years has blurred the line between fields such as economics, history, sociology. What are the limits to using economic reasoning itself to solve some of the most pressing issues facing America today? Glenn Loury: Well, I think the most important thing to recognize is that the economic dimension of the problem is important, but it's not the only thing going on. Allocating scarce resources amongst competing ends is what economics is about—it tells us how to make use of the resources, but it doesn't tell us what to value. And the value part of the social decision problem is important, but it's also philosophy and ethics, the humanistic aspect of scholarly inquiry. So I see economics as essential, but it’s also essential to keep economics in its place. Deborah Aguirre: In your 2019 piece for the Manhattan Institute, you argued that [racial] disparities in [economic] performance could be in part because of social networks and racial stigma. You specifically noted that a lack of intimate social relations with the broader population can hinder economic development. Given your more recent calls for Black Americans to stand together, develop internal agency, and embrace a distinct communal identity, how do you reconcile the need for solidarity with the economic necessity of interracial integration and the social capital that comes from those outside networks. Glenn Loury: That's a good question. My main point is that if we want to understand disparities, we need to understand human development. People acquire the skills and the value traits that get rewarded in the marketplace through socialization. Race figures into this because racial identity influences how people interact with each other. It's only by the selective decisions that people make about how to bond with each other that the phenotypic substratum, which is race—color of skin, hair, texture, shape of bones in the face—get produced and reproduced in society. So if we're talking about racial disparities, we're talking both about human development and disparities in its dynamics. I think the question you raised is important—on how I reconcile the need for integration with the need for African Americans to attend to their communal dynamic—because there really is no resolution of those two things. You could argue that the long term vision should be to transcend race altogether [so] superficial differences were not even relevant to how people interacted. We can imagine such a society, but I don't think we've ever encountered one. The fact of segregated social interactions leaves people like African Americans with the need to attend to the character of their own internal communal dynamic. That doesn't mean discouraging integration, but it does mean emphasizing the activities which encourage and reinforce positive developmental dynamics within the community. You want your kids to work hard, to love their country, to respect their elders, to not be discouraged by setbacks, to honor each other. You get these things in part through formal institutions, but you also get them through families, communities, churches and other non-governmental connections that are organized in part along racial lines, and are an essential part of the picture when you talk about perpetuating racial disparities. Caleb Rasor: You recently argued in First Things that the conservative movement, and America more broadly, must honor both the dignity of every person and the particular heritage of its people—a simultaneous universalism and nationalism. Black Americans have adopted this civic nationalism. They protected their particular identity by appealing to a universal promise of equality. How can immigrants to America do the same? At what point is there enough assimilation without cultural deindividuation? Glenn Loury: That's related to the previous question, I think. And there is a tension there. What do we want from newcomers? We want them to affirm the civic project that we're all engaged in. We want them to speak English. We want them to get America. But we don't necessarily ask them to become homogenized [and] without their own traditions and cultures. We don't want them, necessarily, to worship in the same way that we worship. We don't begrudge them keeping their linguistic heritage and cultural inheritance alive, but we want them to do that within a framework that is collaborative. I think there's a balance that has to be maintained. It's incumbent upon newcomers to get America, but it also behooves us incumbent Americans to be magnanimous—not strict in our requirement that people live, in every respect, as we are used to seeing. Deborah Aguirre: My next question was related to something you said earlier about the importance of church. You've been candid about your own regeneration through faith and sobriety in the ‘80s, and how that was your practical lever that allowed you to escape the illicit activities of your youth. Black Americans remain one of the most religious demographics in the country. Yet the social pathologies that you critique, like family instability and violence, still persist despite that high level of faith. Since you've personally moved towards agnosticism, I'm curious if you think that the practicality of faith that worked for you can still be used as a tool for communal prosperity in Black communities, or has the modern religiosity become form without substance? Should the Black community be looking for a new secular form of solidarity, or should they return to these traditional forms of faith? Glenn Loury: The character of belief in the transcendent is under the pressures of modernity—and not just in African American society. There is a role for religion as an effective response to the challenges of modern life. But I don't think there's a panacea here. I don't look to religion as "the answer." But I think mobilizing people in whatever form that you can get them around the table, supporting each other and affirming the values of decent living and productive social intercourse—I think that's a good thing. I know I'm dodging the question. I'm aware of the fact that I'm not being responsive, because I think it's just too easy to say "the church" is a solution to the problems of Black America. The Civil Rights Movement was nested within the cultural embrace of African American Christian practice—it was a historical inheritance of the 19th- and 20th-century. The country has changed. African American society has changed. And while I see a role for the church, I don't see anything like a recapitulation of the kind of formative influence that religious institutions had in the early- and mid-20th century. Deborah Aguirre: What do you think about movements like MAGA that have roots in these Christian values and present themselves as [working] alongside faith? Glenn Loury: What do I think about the Christian right and their influence within the Republican Party and the Trump-led Make America Great Again movement? I think it's the chickens coming home to roost. [The] secular progressive left ignored this dimension of American social life and offended the values that were embraced by tens of millions of Americans. Whether we talk about some of the cultural conflict issues like gay rights, transgender rights, [and] abortion, [these are] deep differences that people have based on their religious faith. I think it goes way back, at least to the 1970s [with] the Moral Majority. The Tea Party Movement, which we see in the early 21st-Century, is partly a reflection of this alienation from modernistic progressive political leadership. And I think it's ironic, because the leader of the MAGA movement is not an especially inspiring figure in terms of his ethical, religious example. On the other hand, he does, to some degree, speak for that corner of society and they have his back. I think the progressives have some part of the blame for that. [As] President Obama famously said, "They cling to their guns, their religion and so forth, because the economy has failed them and they're feeling that they're losing in life"—that kind of [talk] wasn't especially helpful. Caleb Rasor: For the most part, Professor Loury, you comment on domestic policy, but at times you have also spoken on American foreign policy and even gotten yourself into a bit of trouble. But nonetheless, I'd like to ask you about your take on the current situation in Iran. The past month or so since has been characterized by a rocky ceasefire with the US and Iran constantly vacillating between opening up ports and then reneging on their agreements. What is your current take on the state of the conflict and do you believe it will come to an end soon as President Trump claims? Glenn Loury: I certainly hope so, and I think there's a good chance of it. No, I'm not an expert on these matters. [I’ve been known] to say in the months and years prior to the onset of this conflict, we must not—we cannot—go to war with Iran, because I thought the stakes are enormously high. What happens if Turkey gets involved. What happens if the Saudis decide that they need to arm themselves? What happens to the world economy if the Strait of Hormuz is indeed disrupted for an extended period of time? And we can already see that's not a consummation devoutly to be wished, I think is the way Shakespeare put it. Keeping this under wraps is the most important thing that we can do. I appreciate that the United States and the Iranian government are in negotiation with one another. I think it has been demonstrated that the ability to dominate Iran was overestimated. A decapitation of the leadership, a destruction of their air force and their naval resources—that's been pretty well advanced. But nevertheless, we're talking about traffic through the Strait of Hormuz. Now the Gulf states are deeply concerned about their own future, given the spillover consequences of the conflict. We want to get out as soon as we possibly can, and I'm hopeful about that, but I don't have any real wisdom about how to accomplish that. Caleb Rasor: A few months back, you interviewed Mark Dunkelman, the author of Why Nothing Works, and a prominent intellectual within the Abundance movement, which is a relatively new movement on the political left emphasizing the need for effective government and positive sum thinking in our culture, rather than artificial scarcity. I'm interested in if you found any appeal in this so-called supply side progressivism, and whether you believe it could bring any benefits to marginalized communities? Glenn Loury: I think you've got to build stuff. I think you need a robust public sector that invests in the future [with] highways, bridges, tunnels, electric, [and] internet. I think Dunkelman gets it largely right in his diagnosis of the conflict between Jeffersonian and Hamiltonian views about government. Jefferson worried about government excess. Hamilton wanted to have a robust public sector that could actually take on the challenges of producing public goods and financing their production. The reaction to the Great Depression, the foundation of the modern welfare state, the mobilization that allowed us to emerge victorious in The Second World War, the long period of prosperity and relative equal shared economic growth that we saw in the decades after the Second World War rested upon the ability to get things done. I think Not-In-My-Backyard is a real phenomenon. I think it's easier in our system to block something than it is to actually build something. And the diagnosis that Dunkleman puts forward, I think, has a great deal of merit to it. Deborah Aguirre: On the subject of the welfare state and welfare networks: In years past, you've made clear that you're supportive of a welfare state, but believe that our current systems are inadequate replacements for civil society safety nets such as churches, extended families and [institutions] based in community. In your view, could there be a better way to design America's welfare system, such that local institutions are complemented rather than overshadowed by federal programs? Glenn Loury: I have a friend named Lawrence Kotlikoff. He's an economist, and he tells me that the marginal tax rate is highest on income for people who are at the bottom of the income distribution. The reason that's so is that if they earn another dollar, they reduce their eligibility for transfer programs, which means that the net gain is 32 cents or, [I’m making] the number up, but you get the idea; another dollar of gross income, but another 70 cents lost on eligibility for housing, medical care, aid to families, or income supplements. We should be thinking about the extent to which our transfer programs discourage the kind of behavior that we want people to engage in, whether it's marriage and family, work and self-reliance. There's no free lunch, we economists like to say. You want to help somebody? Well, that's going to come at a cost at the margin to raising the funds that you're distributing or the disincentives that you might give to beneficiaries through your programmatic endeavors. I don't think that it's practical or desirable to anticipate that voluntary mutual aid could take the place of the role that the burgeoning welfare state has come to play in sustaining decent lives for part of the population. I think it's a theoretical argument. You could say this about Social Security, for example: "Well, children should help to take care of their aging parents if they don't have income." And of course, in an ideal world, that would be the case. But to envision that income support for seniors could be managed by voluntary transfers is pie in the sky. The amount of suffering that would ensue were you to withdraw public support at this late date would be quite substantial. The same kind of thing could be said about health care. I'm not an expert in this field, but I can see the big role in our socioeconomic life that medical service provision and drug service provision is playing. Medicare and Medicaid are playing an indispensable role, allowing people to respond to their needs for healthcare in a manner that's consistent with their economic means. So no, I don't think privatization is the answer, but I do think prudence in the program design—being aware of incentives—is what's called for. Deborah Aguirre: On [the] note of incentives: Recently, Trump and the administration have started to place work requirements on [programs] like SNAP. Do you think that's a step in the right direction [regarding] prudence? Glenn Loury: I'm in favor of work requirements, actually. For able-bodied people who are able to contribute to their own support, I think work is a good thing for people. It's not just that they should be paying their own way. It's that their own development is affirmed and advanced through the extent that they can be encouraged to find work. Now, the administration of this is important. People will, I assume—I don't know the details—be allowed if they have reasonable grounds to be exempted from requirements. Again, I'd have to look into it to be sure that I'm accurate in my characterization. But I think a humane administration, where the expectation is that if you get the benefit and you are able to contribute to your own support, you would be expected to do so as a qualification requirement for remaining eligible for the benefit. I think that pushes in the right direction. Deborah Aguirre: A lot of opponents to work requirements refer to the outcomes of having these work requirements—it turns into an issue of income mobility. Even if you implement work requirements a lot of people find low-income jobs, so in your ideal welfare state how do you suppose that we help these people build their human capital so they actually move into decent paying jobs and not just be stuck working at fast food and [other] low-income jobs? Glenn Loury: Okay, I’m going to sound like a mean-spirited economist. Deborah Aguirre: It's okay. Go for it. Glenn Loury: Well, did you envision a world in which there were no low-income jobs? If they're going to be low-income jobs, someone's going to be doing them. I [can either] have a person sitting at home collecting a check or I have a person collecting a check who is getting up out of bed in the morning and going to a low-paying job without a future in that job, but they're still getting up and going. And these jobs are not lifetime sentences. They can be viewed as a stepping stone into broader society. And I answer the question, how do I expect someone to outgrow a low-income job by saying working until they are able to find something better. And I just don't think the answer to, “I hate to see so many people flipping burgers,” is to write them checks. Caleb Rasor: To close up, Professor, you have gone through many transitions in your life, such as from being solely an academic economist to also a public intellectual, from a drug addict to sober, and from being more apathetic to religion to becoming a Christian and now being agnostic. I'm curious whether at this point in your life, you've reached a point of settling on your beliefs or if there is still more exploration to be done. Glenn Loury: The latter, more exploration, not yet settled. No, I don't intend to go back to using cocaine, which was a plague in my life decades ago. And I am, as you say, an agnostic—okay, I'll go with that. I think that's probably the most accurate explanation. But I'm still questing, trying to understand, trying to come to terms with my existential condition here in this world as a reflective, more or less thoughtful human being. What are my responsibilities? What then must I do? What is the good life? What's the meaning of it? Why bother? These questions haunt me even now. On politics, I think keeping an open mind is the best way to go. I've moved from left to right to left—back to right. And as you heard in our discussion about the current administration, [I’m] not entirely happy on the right. That's okay. It ain't over until it's over. I think we have to keep asking questions and we have to keep trying. Being able to say “I think I got that one wrong,” is really important. Epistemic humility is a virtue. So that's how I'm looking at things and I don't feel in no ways tired. Caleb Rasor: Well, Professor Loury, thank you very much for your time. Glenn Loury: Caleb, Deborah, good to be with you.

What Aesop was really teaching us. The Crow and the Pitcher by Milo Winter I’m sitting in a literature seminar talking about…a crow. A crow dropping pebbles into a jar. Someone else brings up a fox. Someone mentions an ant. At some point a tortoise shows up. Which is slightly strange, because the world these animals belong to feels far more juvenile than the college literature seminar we’re sitting in. A tortoise and a hare. A crow with a jar. The kinds of stories most of us had read to us before the age of ten. When most people think about what is discussed in a college literature seminar, they think of Homer or Shakespeare. But instead, we are sitting in a circle discussing Aesop’s Fables. It feels like our intellectual journeys have progressed backwards. We’ve somehow taken a wrong turn in the syllabus and ended up back in elementary school. Why are we reading “children’s literature”? Perhaps because these stories were never just children’s stories to begin with. None of these stories are new. We already know how “the tortoise and the hare” ends. I don’t remember the first time I heard it, or who told it to me. It just feels known. Almost too obvious to think about. Certainly explaining it felt like a ridiculous proposition. But that might be the point: they feel so obvious that we never stop to question them. There’s a reason that these seemingly-simple stories persisted over centuries. Historically, fables were part of how people learned to read and write. They were taught, recited, and memorized. Not in a formal, “this is what learning looks like” way, but as part of the learning process. Similarly, for a lot of us, they were some of the first stories that actually stuck—that we internalized. Why are these stories so uniquely compelling? Because they don’t just tell you what the moral is. They show you what it looks like in practice. Who gets rewarded. Who gets punished. What feels fair. What doesn’t. The fables are teaching you to be a good citizen in a world where the power structure was established, and continues to be manipulated, by some higher authority. The people who succeed in the fables aren’t always the ones who are the most obedient. Nor are they the ones who have the most authority and control. They are the ones who learn something. They see something that the other characters in the story don’t see. They adapt to the situation. The smaller, meeker animals don’t try to overpower the stronger characters; they find work-arounds. These fables, as Professor Lerer points out, are often tales about overcoming obstacles through ingenuity, not strength. These might be stories primarily for children, but the lesson of them isn’t “know your place.” Fables encourage their readers to figure out how the system works so that they will not be trapped by it. Indeed, many feature characters who outsmart the authorities. They are tales of rebellion. Not of a guillotine or throwing tea in the ocean kind, but of a rebellion of the mind. In this way, fables grapple with major themes, questions which adults must wrestle with: how much are you supposed to comply with the system, and how much are you supposed to work against it? The voice that narrates these stories struggled with such questions himself. Aesop is said to have been an outsider, a slave with no power or authority. And yet, he subverted the system by exerting influence through his storytelling—stories not merely with messages of how to follow, how to break free, or how to exist under someone’s rule, but how to recognize that you have a voice within it, even when you were not supposed to have one at all. Professor Lerer explained that we are living in incredibly fraught times. Many of us are trying to find our place in a world where the authorities around us don’t feel legitimate. Fables are a guide for what to do when you don’t have control over the situation. When you have to work with what’s in front of you. Like the crow, you don’t break the jar. You figure out how to use it. Professor Lerer is not trying to re-teach us the morals we learned in youth. Rather, he wants us to see that we were never merely learning morals in the first place. We are learning how to read situations, understand power, and respond when we don’t have it. And sitting there, talking about a crow dropping pebbles into a jar, I think we’re finally seeing what the story was doing all along.

An analysis of CMC’s study abroad pricing model. Image Credit: "Public Office Is A 'Family Snap,'" Puck, June 5, 1889 Studying abroad is a core part of the academic experience at CMC, with around 40% of students choosing to spend a semester abroad. Unlike many other colleges, CMC centralizes study abroad financing through its Center for Global Education. The office pays each program’s invoice directly. These invoices typically include “a non-refundable program commitment deposit, the program tuition and fees, on-site housing and on-site meals, [and] additional international health insurance.” The Center also disburses stipends for food, local transportation, and airfare based on recommendations from the partner program abroad. Students, in turn, are charged a flat-rate fee equal to standard tuition plus room and board set at the maximum meal plan, to be paid through the standard payment portal. This creates a standardized pricing model across programs with vastly different costs. From this structure arises a natural question: if every student pays the same price, what is the relative value of each program? The table below breaks down the cost per student across three high-enrollment European programs in Seville, Paris, and Copenhagen, measured against the 2025-2026 tuition and room and board total: $46,945.​ Food, Transportation, and Airfare stipend values obtained from interviews with CMC students. These figures reveal both the cost difference between programs and the amount of CMC’s $46,945 baseline cost that goes unspent in each case. However, they do not capture the full picture. Copenhagen students, for instance, receive two fully-funded week-long international trips—including flights, housing, and meals—as part of their coursework. Meanwhile, Seville students receive weekend day-trip outings by bus to nearby towns in Andalucía without provided meals. The gap between what students pay and the value they receive from CMC while abroad widens when accounting for what students must cover independently. Students studying abroad are responsible for paying visa fees—around $200 per program—and for navigating the visa application process: either surrendering one’s passport for up to four months through each program’s coordinated batch submission or incurring additional travel and logistics costs by applying independently. (CMC does reimburse the bulk of student visa costs for students on need-based financial aid.) Students must also pay for any meals beyond home-cooked meals that the stipend does not cover, such as restaurants, cafes, and food experiences that come with weekend travel. Although CGE suggests in its informational meetings that students can “stretch” their food budget to participate in these experiences without paying out of pocket, that is not the reality for many students abroad. As one student studying in Paris recalled: I know some students in my program have a harder time affording it. They have to be more frugal, and they have to budget way more carefully, and they may have to keep from going out or going on a weekend trip. The money that they gave us really is just for basic living expenses—and not even that. It is not as if these experiences are superfluous—they are core to a European semester abroad. Of the ten students I spoke with in formal interviews, nine said that international travel was core to their experience. Yet this crucial piece must be paid out of pocket, even though CMC charges full tuition over and above the cost of the programs themselves. CMC students are effectively paying twice—once with tuition, and again out of pocket—to fulfill the mission the CGE sets out: to “connect students to off-campus academic and cultural immersion experiences that support their personal, professional and intellectual development in a globalized world.” An additional stipend that better equalizes the relative costs between CMC and each abroad program would directly improve any abroad student’s semester by allowing them to fully participate in experiential learning, which is central to the mission of the CGE, without relying on personal savings. Even allowing for the administrative overhead associated with running the Center for Global Education, retaining nearly half a student’s semester cost—in the case of Seville—raises two questions about proportionality. First: What justifies an overhead that equals half the cost of studying abroad? And second: Why would the overhead difference between Seville and Copenhagen be so large? Kristen Mallory, Director of Global Education and Off-Campus Study at CMC, offered a compelling answer to the surplus question. The gap between what students pay and what programs cost, she explained, flows back into the college's general overhead and into a cohesive administrative safety net fund for students abroad. Take, for example, a student studying abroad in New Zealand who shattered his knee during orientation week and insisted that he wanted to remain abroad at his program. CMC stepped in to help him navigate surgery, worked with the partner program to arrange transportation to and from the hospital, flew in his mother for the procedure, and covered a full semester of private taxis to and from class. Likewise, if a student’s housing were to be damaged by water leaks, for example, Mallory explained that she’d be able to tell the student: “I can get you some cash to help you not be hungry; I can contact the partner program to say, ‘Get him out of that apartment and into a hotel right this minute—this is unacceptable.’” CMC's institutional umbrella is part of its commitment to ameliorate the crises that students may experience abroad. That promise is real, and its value has been demonstrated. Nevertheless, that is not enough to explain the cost disparity between programs. A student in Paris pays the same $46,945 as a student in Copenhagen. The Paris student described above, who was given a food stipend which covered "basic living expenses—and not even that,” received the same 2 AM phone call guarantee, medevac coverage, and Dean of Students access as would any other CMC student abroad. Yet CMC kept roughly $19,000 from her tuition after program costs, compared to $12,000 for a student in Copenhagen. The protection costs the same for everyone, but the price students pay for it is not the same. Mallory made it clear that this is by design. CMC charges every student the same base price (pre-financial aid and scholarships) on campus, and that philosophy extends abroad. Data science majors and literature majors pay the same tuition, even though their courses cost vastly different amounts to run. “Every [abroad] program is equally available,” Mallory says. This principle of equity, steeped in the liberal arts tradition, works on campus: every student is physically present, accessing daily the same dining halls, classrooms, computer labs, workshops, and advising infrastructure that their tuition funds support. Abroad, though, that logic is strained. Students abroad cannot access many of the institutions which they are paying for. They cannot attend talks at the Athenaeum, hang out at the Care Center or work in Poppa Lab. What is mainly available is the institutional umbrella—namely, the emergency services—and that umbrella is identical across programs. On campus, the cross-subsidy between programs is immeasurable; students take non-major courses as part of their GE requirements or as elective credit, or hold multiple majors. Abroad, CMC receives an itemized invoice for each program. The surplus here is not an emergent property of an interconnected institution where value is opaque—the student in Seville contributes $11,000 more to the protective umbrella than the student in Copenhagen, full stop. That said, the system can accommodate thrifty students. When asked whether CGE guides students toward programs with more embedded travel if they express financial concern, Mallory said that they do: advisors will steer students toward a program like Freiburg, which has 26 days of built-in travel across the European Union. But unfortunately, this does not satisfactorily address the issue. A student who wants to study in Seville—for the unique culture, language, and location—but cannot afford international weekend travel is not served by a referral to Freiburg. She must choose between her ideal location at a higher out-of-pocket price, or a less ideal location that’s more financially feasible. The referral to Freiburg is a workaround for a program that, given what the student paid, should have delivered more to begin with. CMC does not need to abandon its centralized model, its safety net, or its commitment to equitable access to fix this. All it must do is fairly distribute a portion of the surplus funds back to the students who generated them. A fixed program overhead cost, set transparently, would allow CMC to return whatever remains above that threshold to students in lower-cost programs in the form of additional travel and living stipends—all while apportioning enough for the crisis infrastructure that Mallory rightly identifies as the model's greatest strength. As it stands, some students subsidize the system more than others, with no apparent justification.

What stalker romances reveal about liberalism’s blind spots. Image Credit: Jasper Langley-Hawthorne Is stalking someone bad? Most people would, assumedly, say yes. Stalking is a criminal offense in the state of California, incurring up to 3 years in prison and a $10,000 fine; it is also a federal felony under the 2005 Violence Against Women Act. Now, below is an excerpt from the blurb for Navessa Allen’s novel Lights Out. As of writing this piece, Lights Out has been on the New York Times top 15 bestseller list for 56 weeks and counting: Trauma nurse Aly Cappellucci doesn't need any more kinks. She likes the one she's landed on just fine. To her, nothing could top the masked men she follows online. Unless one of those men was shirtless, heavily tattooed, and waiting for her in her bedroom. She dreams about being hunted by one in particular, of him chasing her down and doing deliciously dark things to her willing body. She never could have guessed that by sending one drunken text, those dreams would become her new reality. Lights Out and other books in Allen’s “Into Darkness” series are lovingly labeled by trope-trigger-happy BookTok influencers as “Stalker romance” and “Morally grey MMC” [male main character] and “Touch Her and Die.” Upon first learning about the existence of these books (and their astonishing sales figures), I found myself wondering: is the meteoric success of dark romance novels like Lights Out and H.D. Carlton’s Haunting Adeline something to cheer for, or something to gag at? I hope to do two things in this piece. First, I want to examine why these dark romance books have appeal, and then opine on why they really shouldn’t be appealing. Second, I want to draw out of this discussion an understanding of how liberalism, for all its power, has certain blind spots when it comes to what Leon Kass called the ‘wisdom of repugnance’ and arguments in favor of the good rather than the right. Let me also state up front what my argument is not: it is not an argument to ban dark romance forthwith. Nor is it an argument against the portrayal of abuse, rape, etc. in literature as a whole per se. But, ipso facto, I find the argument that there should be reasonable ways in which we ought to limit the glorification of abusive behavior compelling, especially for young adults who may, increasingly, be picking up these kinds of books. I have read, for the purposes of this article, Allen’s first book, Lights Out. Let me tell you, dear reader, I have seen and experienced it all: I laughed, I wept, I smiled and grimaced and soldiered on through a barrage of amateurish prose, throbbing genitalia and, yes, stalking and borderline criminal behavior. I did not love it. However, I do consider it important to first explore what is attractive about dark romance: I do not mean for this to be a critique of individual readers or their preferences. There are many reasons why residents of ‘romancelandia’ may like these books. For one, pleasure and danger can be correlated: the thrill, so to speak, of fantasizing about sex with a morally questionable stranger may have its appeal. Equally, perhaps there is a quality of protection and devotion inherent in the stalking behavior found in these works, a quality which readers might find lacking in a post-sexual revolution era of casual hookups and online dating. Finally, and maybe most interestingly, one might argue that the predominately female readership of dark romance is drawn to the genre insofar as it represents an opportunity to express their sexuality without violating the image of chastity and innocence that women are oftentimes expected to fulfill; the dubious consent in these works offers a means of letting loose one’s sexual imagination without making the active choice to do so. Oppositely, I can think of a few possible grounds on which to object to dark romance. Most prominently for this piece, books like Haunting Adeline and Lights Out romanticize (ha) abusive and unhealthy sexual relationships: dubious consent, stalking, physical violence, etc. I don’t buy the argument that dark romance novels engage in ‘safe exploration of taboo.’ I’d imagine one could find the prospect of being stalked hot right up until one becomes one of the 43% of college students who have reported experiences indicative of stalking behavior, or one of the 25% of female college students who have reported being victims of sexual assault. One could argue that AI-generated child sex abuse material (CSAM) also engages ‘safely’ with a societal taboo, but I think you’d be hard pressed to find many ardent defenders of AI CSAM. Some proponents of the boons of these books may maintain that our minds are not susceptible to media in this fashion, and that the appealing presentation of stalking and violence in dark romance novels has no effect on our real-world relationships. I find this contention implausible; in the words of Harry Clor, the famous philosopher of public morality, “man, the image-making and image-using animal, can be influenced for good and ill by images.” There is also empirical research that links pornography consumption with intimate partner violence. I believe these conflicting sentiments on dark romance now present a novel inlet into a wider discussion about liberalism and how we as a society determine moral behavior and tastes. I intend to move beyond a reductive relativist approach here. I understand that relativism is the path of least resistance when it comes to reading. After all, given how few people are picking up novels anymore, reading anything is good, right? We all have different tastes; who am I to judge? However, taking this position amounts to putting on one’s moral blinders and plodding indifferently up the beaten track of moral isolationism. I believe that reading is not solely an instrumental act, valuable merely because it’s ‘better than scrolling TikTok.’ My interest lies in how we come to our understanding of moral judgements, both individually and societally. I don’t think it’s too radical to say that the approach to moral behavior embodied by fans of dark romance and the publishing industry more broadly is decidedly liberal (with a small-‘L’). Believers in John Stuart Mill’s harm principle, liberals’ rallying cry is: if it doesn’t hurt anyone, it’s a-ok by me. Opponents of the widespread popularity of this kind of literature most likely hail from more conservative camps: just because it doesn’t hurt anybody does not mean that it is good for me. Where do these divergent camps come from? I think Jonathan Haidt’s research on moral foundations theory is a great place to start answering this question. Haidt argues that there are five foundational moral ideals that come pre-packaged in the human brain at birth: care, fairness, loyalty, authority, and sanctity. The care foundation is associated with empathy for others’ pain, fairness with reciprocal altruism, loyalty with coalition creation and maintenance, authority with hierarchy and tradition, and sanctity with disgust, degradation, and self-improvement. When debating the value of stalker romance, the sanctity and care foundations are most salient. Those who lean left are especially concerned with the values of care and fairness, whereas those who lean right favor all five foundations fairly equally. Haidt says that when one of these foundations is transgressed, we experience feelings of moral disgust or repugnance. Haidt writes in the tradition of Leon Kass, famous bioethicist and physician, who coined the phrase the ‘wisdom of repugnance’ in an eponymous essay against human cloning. As a purely descriptive matter, the publishing industry is overwhelmingly left-leaning. So is BookTok. This means that the industry sidelines as secondary the considerations of loyalty, authority, and especially sanctity prized by their conservative peers. What do we make, then, of the feelings of disgust, discomfort, or aversion that many people undoubtedly have regarding the prevalence of books like Haunting Adeline and the Into Darkness series? I believe that invoking liberal values of individual freedom, care, and fairness—Mill’s harm principle—does little to resolve this tension. Bringing up the notion of ‘safe exploration of taboo’, for example, to quash someone’s (my) distaste for this kind of fiction isn’t effective, because I’m not sure whether a ‘safe exploration of taboo’ can even exist, or should exist. Just because orthodox opinion disregards Haidt’s sanctity foundation doesn’t mean that everybody does. I sympathize with parents who may feel uncomfortable about how much of modern “literary” discourse vaunts these kinds of books, and what lessons their children may be picking up when BookTok serves them a healthy helping of Brynne Weaver, Navessa Allen, and H. D. Carlton. That we are inclined to dismiss those parents’ concerns is, I believe, a great example of the moral ‘blind spots’ associated with the cultural dominance of liberalism. I’ll leave off with Leon Kass’s most famous line from his essay The Wisdom of Repugnance in full, for he can spell out the essence of my side in this moral quandary better than I: “Indeed, in this age in which everything is held to be permissible so long as it is freely done, in which our given human nature no longer commands respect, in which our bodies are regarded as mere instruments of our autonomous rational wills, repugnance may be the only voice left that speaks up to defend the central core of our humanity. Shallow are the souls that have forgotten how to shudder.”

Read The Forum's interview with Mark Lilla—political scientist, historian, and Professor at Columbia University. This interview transcript has been edited for length and clarity. Image Credit: Christophe Dellory, HarperCollins Shiv Parihar: Hello and welcome to The Forum’s Interview series. This is Professor Mark Lilla of Columbia University, one of the premier political theorists in America today, and in particular, an expert on religion and politics. He’s speaking here at CMC about another expertise of his: the work of Alexis de Tocqueville. Dhriti Jagadish: That is Shiv Parihar, and this is Dhriti Jagadish. Shiv Parihar: I think classical liberalism and its future is on the minds of a lot of people right now—yourself included. And we wanted to sort of take this another direction, particularly in the context of Tocqueville, and ask, do you think there are certain cultural prerequisites for the success of liberalism? And if so, what are they? Do we have them now and where do you see them evolving in the future? Mark Lilla: Well, we've got to be careful—especially these days—in how you use the word liberalism and to be precise about it. Do we mean liberal theory? Do we mean liberal government? Do we mean a liberal society? In which sense would you like me to answer? Shiv Parihar: We'll say in particular, liberal government. Mark Lilla: By liberal government, [if] we mean the idea that the state is constrained from doing certain things because of a certain sense of the inviolability of individuals, then sure, there are cultural preconditions, they're harder to delineate a priori than they are to recognize in their absence. In the ancient world, for example, the sense of the individual's relation to the society was quite different from a society like our own, which is more liberal. If one is concerned about, for example, limiting the arbitrary power of authority, one has to come up with a vocabulary to talk about it. And vocabularies differ in different cultural contexts. If all you mean is liberal government in that sense, obviously Tocqueville recognized this cultural factor at the beginning of Democracy in America when he talks about the Anglo-Protestant heritage and how it helped shape the conception of the first Americans in their relation to the environment Dhriti Jagadish: On that note of Tocqueville, J.D. Vance has been saying that Americans won't fight for abstractions, but according to Tocqueville, it seems that we didn't really need to. It was the Europeans that had a very romantic, noble notion of self-sacrifice, whereas Americans had “self-interest rightly understood,” right: daily acts of sacrifice and restraint that benefit both them and others. What does “self-interest rightly understood” look like today? Mark Lilla: Well, first, I'd like to question the premise of J.D. Vance. I wonder, has he seen Ken Burns’ Civil War? Has he ever seen documentaries about World War II? Has he ever looked at monuments devoted to the heroism of Americans in battle, in Iwo Jima and other places? No, Americans will fight for an ideal and for an abstraction. Democracy, in the popular sense, is an abstraction. Dhriti Jagadish: Does [self-interest rightly understood] accord with the kind of self-sacrifice and loftiness required to fight in the Civil War, the Revolutionary War? Mark Lilla: No. What Tocqueville meant by the phrase is that Americans had developed a way of thinking about their communal life, so that they understood there were benefits redounding to individuals who participate. But Americans had a less developed theoretical view of this relationship thana kind of instinct, about the relation between what they did for the common and what they did seemingly purely for themselves. The question, I suppose, is “What are people like today?” Is that what you mean? Dhriti Jagadish: Yeah. Mark Lilla: The closer you get to the ground, the more I think Americans seem like they always have been. Yes, it's true, we're bowling alone now and there's less participation in certain sorts of organizations. But in moments when it becomes necessary, it’s really extraordinary how the American people get together and accomplish things together. For example, when there's a natural disaster about to strike a community in Europe, citizens will wait for the state to interview. And, of course, we now wait for FEMA (longer and longer),but as a people we still have a capacity to come out and immediately help our neighbors and the community without prompting. As you move up the chain from the local context, the local school, the sports teams your kids are on, there's less of a sense of the connection between our public participation and our private benefit. But that's been a long time coming because we became a gigantic country involved in all sorts of world affairs. The economy has become more complex. It’s hard to discern how our individual work contributes to anything. Frankly, in a globalized economy everything changes very, very quickly and you have to be adaptable. You can imagine a past world where people could say, along with Martin Luther, that “Here I stand, I can do no other.” But that's not what life feels like for people today. It feels like surfing. And if life is surfing, and you're simply trying to prepare yourself for the next wave, [it] becomes harder to think about what one's public contribution ought or even can be. Shiv Parihar: I wondered if I could challenge you somewhat on the JD Vance question, because you use the examples of Iwo Jima, of the Civil War. But it does seem to me that many Americans felt that they were fighting for much more than an abstraction, that they were fighting for democracy, but as it was practiced. Or on D-Day, [they] felt that even if they were fighting for liberation, they were also fighting for their homes, right? So, yes, there's the abstraction, but at least my understanding [of] Vance [is] that the soldier in the foxhole wasn't thinking of the abstraction. He was thinking of his home. And so the abstraction became secondary. Mark Lilla: Well, alas, I'm old enough to have known a lot of World War II veterans growing up. And they talked endlessly about the abstraction. Remember, America has never had large, hostile neighbors, so our homeland has never been really threatened in the way others have in most places in the world. We both know where JD Vance wants to head with this.An idea of the homeland, an idea of this nation being like other nations that are bound by families being in places for a very long time – the whole nostalgic picture. He certainly has an agenda with that, [though] that doesn't mean that makes him wrong. But I knew people who were both World War II veterans and certainly Korean War veterans—my father, for example. Then, there was less of a sense of what the interest was. But certainly not in the Second World War. And especially after Pearl Harbor. My parents' generation talked about that often, about what that moment was like. For people who were living in the ‘30s an isolationist mentality came naturally. , But it ended abruptly after Pearl Harbor and didn’t return until recent decades. In Sam Tanenhaus’s biography of William F. Buckley, we learn that Buckley's brothers immediately signed up to serve, and [did] not listen to their isolationist father because they were so taken up by their sense of responsibility and the nobility of the democratic cause. Dhriti Jagadish: I guess the question is, then, where does this instinct, this aspirationalism come from in Tocqueville’s view? Because he has this understanding that Americans can be very insular. That's the big risk with democracy—that there's this mediocrity that doesn't really reach that lofty level. In your experience, where does that kind of aspiration come from? Mark Lilla: It was only within America's encounter with the wider world that this became even a question, I think. People were fighting for many things in the Civil War, and there were certainly principles there having to do with slavery, for and against. But it really was after World War I that the country had to ask itself, “Why is this country different from every other country?” It’s striking when you think about it, but at Versailles it took Woodrow Wilson no time at all to come up with his Fourteen Points. “This is what we mean by democracy. This is what it means to live a moral, political life as a nation.” He’s a good example of what a creedal nation we are. You know, it's funny. Coming of age during the Cold War, I [came] to the view that ideology is the source of most of our problems, and I wondered if only we could be more practical and empirical about things. [Ideology] pushes all the wrong passionate buttons. But I have to say, I have become a bit nostalgic for the age of ideologies. They are the fruit of the effort to see how things connect and put them together into a coherent moving picture. And to ask what we might do, as human beings, to shape the world. But there are no significant efforts to do that right now. Nothing. Nowhere in the world. Dhriti Jagadish: It seems like we need practice, right? Informal associations, where we're reminded of our obligations to one another. I also think about Spain, which had a very weak civil society, which decided, “Okay, we're going to be democratic after Franco.” As we were talking about earlier, [American] institutional norms that we've had in place, of what we conceive of as liberal democracy, have been falling. In the Spaniards’ case, they decided, “No, we're going to stick to democracy and forget about that era of Franco,” and they stuck to it. Do you think Americans are capable of that [ideological commitment], or do they need that kind of habituation and acculturation? Mark Lilla: It's a very good question. You have to remember that in the Spanish example two people mattered. One was King Juan Carlos, the other was socialist Prime Minister Felipe González. Sometimes it just depends on the right kind of leader, someone with the right idea, that can have that sort of effect. But there's no way to predict this. You know, with Donald Trump essentially we're going through a stress test right now. We won't know the result until we're out of the test. Shiv Parihar: I wanted to talk a bit about the academy. You do really wide ranging political science. You talk about all these different countries, you go over a wide period of time. This isn't really that common in the academy anymore; you find a lot of people that sort of really focus in one place or on various niche threads. Did you think that this [genre] is worthwhile enough to make a comeback? Do you think it's outmoded at all? Because there are certainly some quantitative folks that would argue it is. Mark Lilla: Well, the one factor that seems decisive to me is whether there's a large reading public. There was this tradition in the post-war period of very serious, very accomplished philosophers, historians, and literary critics who wrote their books tor each a wider educated public—where they didn't have to dumb things down too much. They developed a style that then had some grudging recognition within the academy. And my home institution [Columbia University] was a place that was home for a lot of such intellectuals; Lionel Trilling, Jacques Barzun, Daniel Bell, Peter Gay, [and] Richard Hofstadter were there. And all of those people wrote books that educated, non-academics read. I'm fortunate enough to have had for almost 30 years now, , a home at the New York Review of Books, where, with the help of the founding editor, Robert Silvers, I really learned how to do that kind of writing. And so, I'm still producing it. The Review is producing it. But who's reading it? I don't know. Who are we speaking to anymore? There is all this chatter out there, so you end up having to do it for its own sake. Shiv Parihar: I think that the question of whether civic education has declined is almost not worth asking: the answer is “yes.” But assuming that it has, how do you see a way forward to a revival of civic education in America and more broadly? Mark Lilla: Well, a few things are getting bundled together here, from my point of view. One is the idea of a general public that reads things about political affairs in order to be able to make decisions while voting or putting their efforts into things. The other thing is civic education in the sense of understanding how our system works, what our obligations are, thinking about the principles on which it is based, and so on. So let's take those separately. Regarding the first, I think we’re actually in a much better position than in the recent past. When you look at the number of books written on public policies that come out every year, the debates that are on television about them, and then, the grand debates about what our foreign policy ought to be—that's reaching many more people than in the past. When you talk about an America past with lyceums and people going to William James’s lectures, you have to remember that 80% of the country was rural. So, most people were not seeing any of this stuff. They had a Bible and maybe a couple Shakespeare plays; that’s all they had. So one must pay attention to is what's happening to the elite, what's happened to everyone else, and the degree to which the barrier between them collapsed or disappeared. And so, on the one hand, I would say that you have to speak down more now, if you want to reach a lot of people, but you reach a lot more people than you did back in this so-called Golden Age. We were a much more aristocratic society in that sense, with an urban elite that was governing over a hugely rural population. Now, in the second sense, about civic education, there I am concerned. All you had to do was watch the Jay Leno Show back in the day when he would just interview people on the street and ask them things about American government, and they had no idea how it worked. I'm also concerned because, however well-meaning, what goes under the rubric of civic education in the second sense today is based on presumptions about movement politics. So you have a class on civics, and you're all supposed to pick an issue, and you study the issue, and then you decide on your position, then you're supposed to write to your congressperson or you go to a demonstration, and so on. And so there's a kind of activist notion of what it is to participate. And certainly on the Democratic side—as you know, I'm a centrist Democrat—that leads to a skew in perspective so that the idea of civic engagement in “causes” takes precedence and not the acquisition of institutional power through parties and elections. And that's where the real power is held, not in causes. Shiv Parihar: On the note of you being a centrist Democrat, Professor Jon Shields here at CMC wrote a piece in the New York Times a while ago about how liberal professors can influence conservatism more positively by being mentors for conservative students who lack center-right figures in the academy and on college campuses. And in Shields’s view, these liberal professors can stop these conservative students from going off into…I think the example he uses [is] TPUSA [Turning Point USA], [but] a much darker example would be Fuentes [and] actual Nazism. Could you talk more about how you have seen yourself fulfilling this role [at] Columbia? Mark Lilla: You know, I feel like a lifeguard sometimes now. Because I do get these conservative students who come to me. Some of them, very few of them actually, are just ideological thrill seekers. They want to épater, you know: shock. But there are a lot of them who are just genuine seekers, also religiously, spiritually. And when they feel ignored or disrespected, and they don't have an education in the full range of conservative political thought, they often can just head off in the wrong direction. I have a couple cases of students where I felt like I just grabbed them by the collar before they jumped over a cliff, going into this stuff. So my job is to just provide the alternatives and, at the same time, [take] them seriously. [I take] their questions very seriously and often [show] that they can be reformulated in a more moderate way—trying to shift the discussion from the culture of complaint to one of constructive projects for the future. I do feel sometimes like a lifeguard or a goalie. Dhriti Jagadish: Can you describe your concerns with this cliff that people are jumping over? Because I think [for] a lot of students here, when they think of conservatism on college campuses, they automatically assume it's some kind of TPUSA, YAF: very showy, very activist-y. But there are lots of these intellectual circles at these elite colleges that are becoming extremely reactionary, extremely insular. A lot of these elite circles are being captured. When you see your students heading for this cliff, what exactly are you worried about? Mark Lilla: Well, it's mainly being in an echo chamber. The term in French is surenchérir which means to keep outbidding someone, but it's used metaphorically in the sense of one-upmanship—[so there’s] a kind of one-upping each other for attention, ideologically. And there's a ton of money around. If you are so inclined, you can go off and study in the summer, you can get internships; no one ever ended up in the poorhouse by working in these organizations. They are plush and there are fancy lunches, and some rich guy will invite you to his penthouse in New York. You can have fine wines and sherry and cigars, and look out over the city from his balcony. It goes to your head. I saw that when I was at the Public Interest already starting back in the '80s. I worked for Irving Kristol at the Public Interest, and essentially, it was a kind of brown bag institution, nothing fancy, just good talk. I've often told people who run these conservative institutions: stop putting on these fancy lunches. Give them a sandwich. Dhriti Jagadish: [There are these Great Books camps: Hudson Institute’s Political Studies, Hertog Foundation’s Political Studies, the American Enterprise Institute’s Winter and Summer Honors Programs, the Intercollegiate Studies Institute’s Honors Program. Do you think they're doing the kind of wining and dining to make students a bit more reactionary against their campuses and what they've been learning? Or do you think that, potentially, they're moderating and tempering some of the darker Nick Fuentes, Bronze Age Pervert, online Right? Mark Lilla: I just don't know. And that's why I'm interested in talking to students and teachers who've been involved. All of [these programs] have been founded in my lifetime, and I saw some of them come to be and knew the people who were running them and teaching in them. In the 1990s, I think part of the motivation [was that] this was the first wave of a kind of PC, anti-Western mood that took over campuses: “Ho ho, Western Civ has got to go,” at Stanford. There was a congruence between a small-c conservative desire to maintain a certain kind of education that they worried would be disappearing and a more political conservatism that you could start educating young people as cadres. But my sense had been, and you can correct me, that at places like Hertog and AEI, that it was the Great Books-y side—and defending that—that came first and still comes first. And that the “cadre part” comes second—but maybe I’m wrong about that. And that also comes from people who taught there. But so much has changed, especially in the Trump years, that I don't know. Dhriti Jagadish: You wrote in the New York Review of Books [in November 2025], the storm is coming. Where are we at now, a couple months later? Mark Lilla: The interview was really about what I call these chthonic forces that are at work ideologically on the right now—which are coming from, in some sense, below, and not from right and left. There's an ambient apocalypticism, and apocalypticism is something that I've studied and thought a lot about in a religious context and also in relation to communism in the 20th-century: transpos[ing] messianic fever into politics. But the word apocalypse doesn't mean that everything just gets destroyed; it means the dawn of the new era. What I feel as ambient now, [is a] kind of nihilistic urge. [There’s] no sense of what it takes to build, [no] sense of the fragility of things. It's one thing for that to exist in Trump and Trumpian followers, and the Peter Thiels of the world, and so on; it's another when that exists without a huge cultural pushback. But there's something about it that seems weirdly in tune with the times, in a way I can't put my finger on. And for me, that's the most unsettling. Dhriti Jagadish: Thanks so much for your time. Mark Lilla: This was terrific.

Woolley Athenaeum Fellow Violet Ramanathan '27 sits down for an interview with Ken Walden. Credit: Byron Figueroa This semester, CMC’s Marian Miner Cook Athenaeum welcomed a new interim director, Dr. Ken Walden. Priya Junnar, who served as director from 2014 to 2023 and served as acting director in 2025, stepped down from her role in December, following the announcement that her husband, CMC President Hiram Chodosh, will be resigning at the end of the 2025-26 academic year. The Athenaeum, renowned as the ‘crown jewel’ of CMC, hosts guest speakers four nights a week who give keynote presentations over a formal dinner. In the past year, the Athenaeum,—colloquially known as the “Ath”—has hosted leading free speech expert Nadine Strossen, political commentator William Kristol, Pulitzer prize winning author Joshua Cohen, and John W. Dean III, a former White House advisor who played a key role in the Watergate investigation. Interim director Ken Walden earned his bachelor’s degree from The Citadel, a military college in South Carolina. He also holds a Master of Divinity from Duke University, and another master’s and a Ph.D. from the Claremont School of Theology. Walden is a Chaplain Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Air Force Reserve who recently served active duty in Stuttgart, Germany. He is an ordained clergy-member of the California-Pacific Conference of The United Methodist Church. Walden has previously worked in education, including as President of Gammon Theological Seminary at the Interdenominational Theological Center in Atlanta, GA. He has also worked at Hood Theological Seminary in Salisbury, NC, and Claflin University in Orangeburg, SC. Below, read excerpts from Dr. Walden’s interview with Forum editor and Woolley Athenaeum Fellow Violet Ramanathan ‘27. Dr. Walden described his career path as “tri-vocational,” serving as an officer in the military, a college professor and administrator, and a member of the United Methodist clergy. Last year, he was assigned to the United States European Command in Stuttgart, Germany. When asked to describe the day-to-day of his role in Germany, Dr. Walden shared the following: I worked a lot with our NATO partners and members and friends from different countries, and we worked around issues around diplomacy. What commonalities do our countries have, and where can we build upon bridges and build upon different joint interests? But I also did some traditional chaplain roles in terms of counseling. I did a lot of advising commanders. Unfortunately, when I was in Germany, we had a few deaths, unexpected deaths, unplanned, unanticipated deaths. And I participated and did the eulogy and things of that nature as well. After spending what he described as “a really good time” in Germany, Dr. Walden felt that it was time to return to the U.S., and he was excited to find the Athenaeum opportunity in Claremont, a town that he is familiar with from his time at the Claremont School of Theology. Dr. Walden is excited about the interdisciplinary mission of the Ath. Since he has worked in many different fields throughout his career, he connects with the Ath’s focus on drawing in people from a variety of backgrounds, viewpoints, and areas of expertise. He also felt called to CMC because of the college’s distinct ambition. In a time where many schools are closing or downsizing, CMC is “expanding programs, expanding staff, expanding resources, [and] also expanding buildings.” Dr. Walden also mentioned the appeal of a small college environment with a close knit community, which reflected his experience at the Citadel, Duke—which he described as having small classes—and the Claremont School of Theology. In discussing his goals for the Ath, Dr. Walden described his desire to maintain the strong legacy that Priya Junnar has built over the years. He also cited the importance of hosting a diversity of events, including musical events like the Gospel Choir on February 2nd, the first Ath talk that Dr. Walden attended. In discussing the importance of performances like this, he said the following: Music can have therapeutic properties…We often talk about air pollution, water pollution, food pollution. Well, there's noise pollution, too. What we listen to, what we are hearing. So music presented in a very healthy way, it can help heal the body. Additionally, Dr. Walden mentioned wanting to create more opportunities for students to share their work at the Athenaeum. When asked about his transition into the position, Dr. Walden said: “My first role is to listen and learn.” He mentioned that Mrs. Junnar has been helping him understand the many moving parts of the Ath. Dr. Walden also noted that he hopes that his faith will guide him in his work in the Athenaeum. He described his faith as a source of optimism, and a part of his commitment to “mercy and grace.” While some on campus have questioned the value of maintaining a dress code at the Ath, Dr. Walden remarked that this policy trains students well for dress codes in future professional settings: I think that the Athenaeum is smart, and the Athenaeum policy serves the students very well in terms of a dress code. And the reason being is because many of our students will be going to a variety of professions. And [in] many professions, you cannot wear what you want to wear…. I think it’s good for the students to experience a place with those kind of expectations. More generally, he remarked that it is important for students to understand the “rules of engagement” in professional settings. When he’s not working, Dr. Walden enjoys spending time outdoors: walking along the beach, swimming, hiking, and visiting the botanical gardens. He also enjoys reading and writing, and he has authored multiple books, including Practical Theology for Church Diversity and Challenges Faced by Iraq War Reservists and Their Families. He is currently working on a book about the first African-American to graduate from the Citadel, Charles Foster. Dr. Walden shared a few media recommendations for CMC students. For books, he recommended Confessions of an Economic Hit Man by John Perkins, an autobiographical account of a man who worked to make foreign countries economically dependent on the US; and The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson, about the Great Migration of Black Americans leaving the South in the 20th century. He also recommended the film Casablanca, which he described as follows: The reason why that's one of my favorite movies is because it deals with politics. It deals with national identity. It deals with the complexities of relationships, romantic relationships, but it also deals with the complexities of friendships, and the complexities of different seasons of life. And it's packaged in such a profound way… I’ve seen that movie about 50 times. As a closing remark, Dr. Walden commented that he wants to serve as a mentor to the CMC community: “to give students small pieces of advice that could make a big difference in their lives, for the better.”

Learning for learning’s sake doesn’t have to preclude career advancement. Antioch College, an abolitionist liberal arts institution, in the 19th-century. (Credit: Wikimedia Commons). The liberal arts in America have moved away from their traditional mission of providing students a space for inquiry while educating them about the intellectual foundations of their civilization. The intellectual garden of liberalism welcomed the matriculating student to frolic within the bounds of firm walls that excluded rabble rousers, left and right alike. This educational model was rejected en masse from the 1960s onwards, by research-heavy academia demanding that professors “publish or perish” rather than teach, and by students who sought to deconstruct their moral foundations. Thus, the walls of the liberal garden have been torn down, and the weeds have set in. The rise of niche academic identitarianism coupled with a wider decline in intellectual diversity has narrowed academia’s scope so as to prevent genuine free thought. The fault of this decline does not fall on traditional disciplines of the liberal arts, but on the colleges meant to tend to the garden of ideas. In his 2005 work Privilege, Ross Douthat observes that elite college circles became the forges of an American cultural decline that began in the 1960s. Harvard pioneered the sexual revolution and pop culture drug use, its students content to rely upon easy access to birth control pills and healthy finances. This culture gradually trickled down to the rest of the American populace as students at these institutions became the premier producers of media, from Hollywood to literature. This cultural shift wrought moral havoc by making casual sex the norm. Even worse, most Americans lacked elite college students’ trust funds and secure family institutions, contributing to higher rates of child rearing outside of marriage and divorce. The decline of morality in these colleges brought about the wider erosion of American culture. This eventually reached those who had to reap the worst of the move away from traditional values. Working-class Americans were left parenting more children outside of marriage and taking more drugs than their upper-class peers. Douthat observes how little his fellow students seem to care for the merits of their liberal arts education beyond its pre-professional dimensions, a strange decision at an institution where students are almost sure to find their way to a comfortable living. Douthat himself is far from immune to the worst of Harvard culture, chasing admission to prestigious social clubs and, of course, monetizing his young adult gossip into a memoir to propel his way to the top of The New York Times. A third of the American professoriate leaned right forty years ago, but the ideological bent of academia to the left has accelerated since. The lack of ideological diversity fails all students. Left-of-center students often find themselves interacting with a hollow shell of their ideologies centered on identity politics rather than a historical tradition. Surveying the Claremont Colleges catalogue on Hyperschedule, for instance, one finds more opportunities to interact with Africana Marxists or the gay liberation movement than, for instance, 18th-century radical Thomas Paine or even Vladimir Lenin. Conservative students are perhaps failed most of all. Left without faculty mentorship, these adrift aspiring activists instead find themselves under the wing of anti-intellectual right wing radicals. When conservative students stumble upon “mainstream” conservatism they do so under the aegis of figures such as Milo Yiannopoulos that stand either apart from or against the intellectual conservatism students might have found in their departments. Very few colleges offer much in the way of teaching about the intellectual tradition of the right. It should be no surprise that students of conservative inclination, deprived of the chance to discover the anchor of history, sway into the storm of the far-right’s excesses. Liberal arts colleges in America today often claim to be the last bulwarks of educational tradition, but the problem of intellectual diversity is particularly strong there.The institutions have an average Democrat to Republican ratio of 12.7:1 among their professors, and several top liberal arts colleges have no Republicans in their faculty at all. Conservatives in the humanities, such as those studying literature (where two percent of professors leaned right as of 1999), find themselves alienated as their field suffers from analysis steeped in niche fundamental presuppositions or ideological perspectives. The same study aggregated professors across gender studies, Africana studies, and similar fields at liberal arts colleges, finding that none at all were registered Republicans. Ideological bias in the humanities and interdisciplinary studies has drawn conservative talent away from these fields. Searching Google Scholar, one finds over 1,350 articles on the subject of “xenofeminism.” The whole of work found on “conservative literary criticism” yields a mere 75 results. Other disciplines that may be seen as having a more practical application face similar failures. For instance, sociologists often fail to consider history’s most consistent social institutions — those of religion. The liberal arts have historically balanced free inquiry with the bequeathment of a grand heritage of thought. The field of American education today seems polarized to the most radical of both views. At many schools, pursuing truth is jettisoned entirely. For instance, Kevin Roose’s The Unlikely Disciple sees the author, a Brown University student, visit Evangelical America’s premier educational institution: Liberty University. Here, free inquiry is discouraged and doctrinal inheritance becomes the paramount aim of education, thus presenting a different rejection of the liberal arts. However, Liberty may have more in common with its nemeses in “woke” academia and elite pre-professionalism than it admits. Liberty may adhere to a full ten, but, at dear old Claremont McKenna, the universal commandment is apparently to line thy pockets. Meanwhile, elements of academic postmodernism seem to hold, at the very least, the universal truth that there is no universal truth. Enforcing adherence to conservative beliefs is little better than constraining intellectual freedom within the bounds of leftist postmodernism. Academic institutions are failing because they have turned away from traditional liberal arts values. The answer to decline is not rejecting the liberal arts wholesale, but returning to historical understandings of their worth. This article was published in conjunction with The Claremont Independent.

President-elect faces removal after Executive Board unanimously approved petition for recall vote. Update 3/23: The recall for the president-elect passed, as the simple majority requirement was met. There will be another call for candidates before a second electoral vote occurs. Credit: Violet Ramanathan '27 On Tuesday, March 10, Harvey Mudd College students received an email to vote on whether to recall the president-elect of the Associated Students of Harvey Mudd College (ASHMC) following a petition alleging racism and transphobia. The petitioner, who lost the ASHMC presidential election in both of the last two years, based his complaint on a comment made by the president-elect a year earlier. In a conversation with her friend regarding last year’s ASHMC president election — in which the petitioner was running — this year’s president-elect remarked: “would you rather vote for a president who’s qualified or Black?” In an interview with The Forum, the president-elect confirmed that she made this statement. In February, the president-elect — who was president of Drinkward Dorm at the time — reached out to the petitioner and his running mate via email to apologize and initiate a meeting to talk further. At this meeting, in an attempt to explain the rationale behind her comment, the president-elect asked if the petitioner would have been offended if the comment had referred to someone trans rather than someone Black, according to a statement made by the petitioner. This comment sparked allegations of transphobia in addition to the initial accusations of racism. On Feb. 25, the president-elect and her running mate were elected. Shortly after, the president-elect was called into a meeting with the current president and senate chair of ASHMC. During this conversation, the ASHMC leaders told the president-elect that she could either step down or be dragged into a public recall vote, according to the president-elect. The president-elect asked for time to think, and shortly afterward the petitioner presented his request for a recall vote to the ASHMC Executive Board. On March 9, less than two weeks after the election results were released, students received an email notifying them that the ASHMC Executive Board had approved a petition to hold a recall vote, and that each party would give a speech the following night. Each candidate was allowed to write a 250-word statement to attach to the recall vote, and during the speeches they were given the chance to read their statements aloud. The ASHMC Constitution states that a recall petition may be presented to the Executive Board and, if approved by three quarters of the board, it will be sent out to be voted upon by the Harvey Mudd student body. The Executive Board approved this petition unanimously, according to minutes from the ASHMC Executive Board meeting. On Tuesday, March 10, Harvey Mudd students gathered in the Aviation Room in the Hoch-Shanahan Dining Commons to hear statements from each of the involved parties. In his speech, the petitioner reiterated the president-elect’s allegedly racist comment, before stating “I called her out on this, and she doubled down. She claimed that context and emotionality excused her. What context makes Blackness and qualification mutually exclusive? What emotion led [the president-elect] to think less of somebody’s capabilities due to the color of their skin?” The petitioner also reiterated another statement made by the president-elect, in which “she… asked if I would be offended if the choice had been between someone qualified or someone trans.” He alleged that the president-elect “lacked the integrity to apologize. Every ‘I’m sorry’ was qualified with an excuse… She never apologized to me. She couldn’t even see why she should apologize.” An email obtained by The Forum reveals that the president-elect did offer an unqualified apology to the petitioner and his running mate. The petitioner concluded his speech by saying: “Do you want to be represented by a student who makes prejudiced comments in private? Who is incapable of accepting criticism and unable to reflect onto her actions? Who was unwilling to apologize and tried to justify prejudice? How many of you are willing to try to do the same?” The president-elect opened her speech by apologizing and taking responsibility for her actions. “I take responsibility for insensitive statements that I’ve made regarding the qualifications of Black and trans candidates, and I’m sorry for the harm I’ve caused, and I continue to take accountability.” She noted that the conversation in question happened over a year earlier, and stated that “since then, I have engaged in transformative and restorative justice.” She mentioned conversations with deans and those hurt by the situation, and she acknowledged “that my responses have sometimes been inappropriate.” The president-elect added that “Over the past year, I’ve worked to contribute positively to ASHMC and to Mudd.” She concluded: “I am the same person you’ve elected, and if allowed to move forward, I will continue working to uphold the Mudd values of community, curiosity, and inclusivity. I encourage anyone with further questions to contact me.” In her interview with The Forum, the president-elect elaborated that her initial comment was made in response to a friend who expressed that they were going to vote for the petitioner because he and his running mate are Black. “I didn’t mean it to be about specifically the Black identity or any specific identity,” the president-elect said. “I guess a better way to put it is, should this fundamental identity guarantee you some sort of qualification; would you rather vote for someone Black and unqualified or not Black and qualified?” The petitioner did not respond to The Forum’s request for comment. The voting form was released after statements concluded and will remain open until March 17. The student body vote requires a simple majority for the president-elect to be recalled, at which point a new election would take place. This is an evolving story. Updates will be added as developments occur. Amy Weng CMC ‘27 contributed reporting.

Your guide to state and local housing policy. Many students of the Claremont Colleges eagerly track the moves of the president, Congress, the military, the Federal Reserve, and countless other political entities. We tend to show off this knowledge with Instagram virtue signaling and angsty Walker Wall scrawling. But how many of us know what policies are being decided in our own backyard? On March 11 of this year, the City of Claremont unveiled Larkin Place, an affordable housing community initially proposed in 2022. Given that its construction—and controversy—has lasted longer than the academic career of any current 5Cer, its development is worth investigating, especially in the context of Claremont’s housing landscape. This past summer saw significant victories for California’s pro-housing or Yes-in-My-Backyard (YIMBY) movement. In June, Governor Gavin Newsom signed AB 130, SB 131, and SB 79 into law, requiring faster permitting processes, streamlining the onerous California Environmental Quality Assessment (CEQA) review, and making it easier to build housing near major transit stops. In his speech, Governor Newsom signaled his commitment to increasing responsiveness and efficiency in future building projects. Is Claremont on board? Well, it’s complicated. Support for YIMBY policies doesn’t neatly fit within your typical factional lines. Though Claremont is a professionalized, Democratic stronghold, the debate remains contentious in our City of Trees and PhDs. This article will discuss Claremont’s recent developments, framed by the essential facts of the state and local housing debate—consider it your one-stop-shop on the subject. The Larkin Place Controversy Last fall, I met with Reverend Gene Boutilier of Claremont’s United Church of Christ. Boutilier is also president of Housing Claremont, a chapter of the non-profit Abundant Housing LA which is dedicated to YIMBY solutions in the Los Angeles area. Boutilier drove us to Larkin Place, then still under construction on Harrison Avenue, and explained its long path to completion. The Jamboree Housing Corporation, a nonprofit housing developer, proposed Larkin Place in 2022 as a four-story, 33-unit development to house formerly homeless adults making no more than 30% of the Area Median Income (AMI). “Individuals will not be pulled directly from the street and placed into Larkin Place,” Jamboree notes, as the comprehensive application process requires months of preparation. The selectivity is necessary, as Jamboree provides its residents with access to wraparound services like therapy, crisis counseling, and life skills courses. Jamboree claims that these services help 72% of their residents maintain a steady job, which Jamboree estimates lowers dependence on public assistance (CalFresh, CalWORKS, emergency room use, etc.) by over $8 million annually. Jamboree's Larkin Place site plan. Credit: Jamboree Finished construction of Larkin Place. Credit: Claremont Courier Making Larkin Place a reality was quite an uphill battle, Boutilier reflected. The liberal and progressive residents of Claremont were theoretically supportive of affordable housing, so long as it wasn’t happening on their Harrison Avenue. The primary opposition group, Safe and Transparent Claremont, amassed 453 signatures to bar the development. They pointed out that Jamboree lacks a sobriety requirement, only requires voluntary participation in its services, and is too lax with its visitation rules: “We feel that simply housing those with high needs without proper clinical supervision is not in anybody’s best interest and is an insult to all of us who have dealt with mental health and addiction issues either personally or in our family home.” Though Jamboree insisted it would conduct background checks and closely monitor its residents, many Claremont residents voiced their concerns as soon as the proposal was announced. Or as Boutlier recalled: “[Residents] would say, ‘If only you were serving veterans.’ Well, some of those people in [Larkin Place’s] 34 units will be veterans. ‘If only you were serving old people.’ Well, some of them will be old people. ‘If only you [built] workforce housing.’ Well, some of them will have full-time jobs.” But Boutilier also acknowledged the Larkin Place campaign’s strategic missteps. “Mistakes were made by my friends at Jamboree. [They allowed for] uncontrolled public speaking that went on and on and kind of built on itself like a firestorm.” Indeed, the first meeting with residents and developers back in 2022 was nearly three hours long, described as “sometimes raucous” by the Claremont Courier as developers’ statements were met with “loud protests.” Unfortunately for Larkin Place’s opponents, subdivision (d) of California’s Housing Accountability Act (HAA) prohibits local governments from denying approval for affordable housing projects, like Larkin Place, or reducing their proposed densities. Very limited exceptions apply. This restriction mitigates the number of veto points that local governments have had in housing approval processes, as seen in the graphic below. Housing construction process. Credit: Dhriti Jagadish, based upon The Institute for Local Government's Planning Commissioner Handbook Furthermore, when proposing Larkin Place, Jamboree applied under AB 2162, meaning the project received “by-right” status for its affordability. By-right developments—so long as they abide by existing zoning and building codes—need not be subjected to CEQA review and discretionary reviews by architecture commissions, planning commissions, and public hearings. Though unnecessary, Jamboree did opt for review by Claremont’s Architectural Commission, hoping to receive “buy-in from the community,” according to Jamboree’s Chief Development Officer. Larkin Place’s initial design required an easement across a city-owned parking lot—a measure to ensure vehicular access—and was approved by the Architectural Commission on January 26, 2022 contingent on the city council’s approval. Yet, on June 28, 2022, the city council voted 3-2 to deny Jamboree’s request for the easement. This action prompted a statement from the California Department of Housing and Community Development (HCD) alleging that Claremont had violated the HAA. “Denying the easement equates to disapproval” of an HAA-applicable affordable housing project, the HCD argued, and none of the exemptions that allowed for such disapproval applied to Larkin Place. Claremont denied that they broke the law, arguing that Jamboree would be able to continue building Larkin Place if they designed an alternate site plan that wouldn’t require vehicular access—which Jamboree eventually did. Larkin Place is an illustrative example of the kinds of clashes that occur between state and local oversight of housing policy—and a pricey one, with legal fees costing the city $140,000. Claremont’s RHNA Compliance Though Claremont has significant control over its development, the city must align with California’s housing objectives. To understand Claremont’s predicament with Larkin Place—particularly, the urgency of advocates and the hesitancy of the city council—we need to dig a bit deeper into state housing laws. Consider the Regional Housing Needs Assessment (RHNA), a state-mandated process determining projected and existing housing needs. The state and local governments work together to allot a quantity of housing units to be built by each city within an eight-year cycle. California cities are currently in the sixth cycle, extending from 2021 to 2029. This means that Claremont is required to build 1,711 units by 2029. All cities submit a “housing element” of their general plan to the HCD to explain how they intend to meet their housing needs. 6th Regional Housing Needs Assessment for the City of Claremont. AMI = Average Median Income. Credit: City of Claremont Claremont hasn’t always been compliant with the 6th cycle. After missing the October 15, 2021 deadline to submit its housing element, Claremont was sued by the nonprofit Californians for Homeownership in September 2022. The nonprofit selected Claremont and eight other cities as being among the “farthest behind’” in building enough housing to meet their RHNA demands, according to their attorney Matthew Gelfand. In an interview with the Claremont Courier, Gelfand stated that Claremont was an “extreme outlier in its lack of progress and its refusal to engage.” Claremont settled the lawsuit, agreeing to adopt the 6th Housing Element by July 31, 2023 and pay legal fees. However, in April 2024, the state determined that Claremont was still not in substantial compliance, missing required rezonings and commitments to develop Accessory Dwelling Units, among other shortfalls. In September 2024, after a June 2024 city council vote to update the Housing Element, the state finally determined that Claremont’s Housing Element was in compliance—nearly three years after the October 2021 deadline to submit. How Claremont Plans to Meet Its Housing Needs Claremont’s Housing Element features 31 “Opportunity Sites” that could accommodate the city’s RHNA units. According to the element’s FAQ, one of the biggest hurdles remains zoning regulations. 27 of the 31 Opportunity Sites must be rezoned because Claremont’s current regulations do not permit the higher densities needed to achieve RHNA capacity. As such, Boutilier believes that “some of these identified Opportunity Sites are not real—they're never going to turn into real projects.” Claremont's "Opportunity Sites." Credit: City of Claremont However, developers have successfully proposed projects on some sites at the very least. This past July, City Ventures received approval to construct a 70-unit condominium on 840 S. Indian Blvd, with 10% and 5% of its units set aside as moderate-income and low-income, respectively. This affordable unit allotment complies with Claremont’s Inclusionary Housing Ordinance that was passed in 2006 and strengthened in 2021. The ordinance requires all rental and for-sale developers to reserve 10% and 5% of their units as moderate- and low-income or make an “in-lieu payment” to the city’s inclusionary housing fund. Boutilier is especially interested by Opportunity Sites on religious properties. California’s SB 4 provides streamlined permitting and zoning processes for religious organizations and nonprofit colleges to develop affordable housing on their properties—including by-right approval. “One of the best [Opportunity Sites] is the Claremont United Methodist Church. They have a very large property…[and] a very good committee of church leaders that really want to develop housing.” The city is also prioritizing Accessory Dwelling Unit (ADU) development in a new push by many Southern Californian governments. ADUs are independent units—often rental spaces like tiny homes, garage conversions, or granny flats—located on a lot with a preexisting primary residence. Because ADUs allow for more density, especially on single-family lots, 11 of Claremont’s Opportunity Sites are zoned with an ADU-ready Overlay. Claremont’s Road Ahead As is the case for most California cities, Claremont’s housing burdens won’t ease up for a while. The pace of development is still sluggish. Innovative solutions meet neighborhood resistance. For instance, the City Ventures development on Indian Hill had its fair share of opposition. The people of Claremont “argued all kinds of things” in city council meetings, Boutilier noted. “They complained that there weren't enough children's amenities on the playground, weren’t two-street driveway exits from the property, [and that City Ventures] will overpack the neighborhood with traffic.” Information campaigns matter, Boutilier noted, as we drove to St. Ambrose Episcopal Church. The Church is working with non-profit developer National Core to redevelop a portion of its parking lot for a 59-unit apartment for low-income senior citizens. “They hired a professional who helped them orchestrate their community response [and] make the neighbor visits. The public meeting was extremely well planned [and their] pastor did a beautiful job of laying out the Christian argument for serving the neighborhood,” Boutilier admired. Not every campaign has been successful, though. Boutilier showed me the Claremont United Church of Christ’s parking lot, which was planned as a safe overnight parking site for registered vehicles, complete with 24-hour security and access to the Church’s facilities. Since my meeting with Boutilier, however, funding for the lot was denied by the city. Canvassers for Inclusive Claremont, a 5C pro-housing group, repeatedly heard from the lot’s neighboring homeowners that the site—located in the middle of a 6th Street neighborhood—would pose a “reduction in ‘quality of life,’” alongside complaints of “unpleasant second-story views” and “undesirables.” Conclusion If housing policy seems complicated, that’s because it is. Indeed, this explainer is not comprehensive—it did not touch upon Claremont’s debate around renters’ rights, for example. To learn more, follow student groups like Inclusive Claremont. Read the Claremont Courier. Pay attention to the activities of Housing Claremont and Claremont Tenants United. Attend a city council meeting once in a while. You may not agree with all of the solutions proposed—I certainly don’t. But at least the residents, activists, and leaders involved have an understanding of the problems. That’s more that can be said for many of us students. I’ll default to one of my favorite lines from Alexis de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America. We enjoy “the goods” of Claremont as mere tenants, without a “spirit of ownership” that motivates us to propose—or at the very least, ponder—improvements. We sit back and wait for that amorphous “government” to fix things, sapping our own political willpower all the while. If we’re going to live in a place for four years, using its utilities and patronizing its businesses, we need to pay attention to its developments. We’re not squatters.