Many concepts behind elite colleges are somewhat paradoxical-the most notable message being that you will benefit from exposure to a diverse body of students, all of whom are in possession of the skill set required for a solid SAT score.
But most universities would probably dismiss this claim on the grounds that a fairly intuitive distinction can be made between good and bad diversity.
For example, someone with a lengthy criminal record would have unique-and perhaps hands-on-experiences to share with the homogenously resume-genic Duke collective. But universities clearly regard this as an example of bad diversity.
In fact, most Americans seem to buy into the diversity distinction on some moral or practical plane. Just recall the outraged public reaction last spring, when Yale bestowed the honor of admission upon former Taliban envoy Sayed Rahmatullah Hashemi. True to elite standards, he was indeed an ambassador, not a run-of-the-mill Taliban type.
Good diversity entails specific constraints ("qualifications") and we have conveniently developed the technical means for optimizing diversity subject to these constraints. The Chosen must be intelligent (SAT, GPA), talented (extracurriculars), passionate (essays), personable (teacher recommendations) and in other ways deserving (race, socioeconomic status). Granted, there is some overlap (intelligence and talent, talent and passion), and a few parenthetical variables (namely, socioeconomics) remain missing from the formula. But at any rate, this model is deemed functional by the people who matter-the people pouring through applications as we speak in the admissions office.
Try slicing a pie into five pieces. Someone is bound to get fat at someone else's expense.
Where should the emphasis go? Who should decide and how? The number system in place at most schools is by no means the last word in the admissions process-which makes it a crusty copout of an answer.
Our responses to these questions say a great deal about how we view the university's private objectives and social obligations. An example that hits closer to home: Is it truly wrong for schools to specifically seek out athletes for a particular end (diversity, glory)? Those who disapprove of this admissions practice can be more accurately described as critics of the goals behind it. Expectations and exceptions carefully built into the standard university admissions system are a reflection of its highly specific aims.
This connection between practice and purpose seems obvious enough, but too often we ignore a major corollary-taking a credible stance on current admissions policy requires that we first step back and examine the current and ideal roles and responsibilities of the university.
What role does Duke take on during the admissions process? Is it rewarding the deserving? Is it correcting educational inequities? Is it capitalizing on the talents of those most likely to succeed and reaping reputation and future financial windfall? Is it about conflating the ends with the means, and constructing the best possible environment for those accepted by making "the most diverse student body possible" the environment? If conveniently, politically speaking, it is a hazy combination of these, what should constitute the biggest piece of (yet another) pie?
Of course, no university will admit to roles or goals less than politically correct, unless civilized camouflage is an option. Complicating matters, most universities claim the same magnanimous mission statement, carefully worded and brimming with lofty abstractions. So if you are interested in stripping honeyed words down to practical intent, observe how a school like Duke chooses to sell itself.
First there are the predictable generalities. The Ivies market themselves as the makers of the leaders of tomorrow. DeVry claims to provide students with career-oriented education. Clearly different schools have different objectives depending on the applicants in mind.
Slightly less obvious are the distinctions to be made between Penn and Duke, Harvard and Stanford, Case Western and the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. These schools may share overarching themes, but like it or not, they also have different goals-for an example, look at the types of scholarships they offer. The question is: When is that okay? And should these goals take on total transparency, or are they clear enough when we take the time to trace admissions practices back to their hard-boiled principles?
Affirmative action-like development cases and athletic recruitment-has its vocal critics. But the university's target objectives may not paint a perfectly pretty picture either. Or though defensible, perhaps they could be more appropriately pursued through policy adjustments. Before we hash out policy, we'd be well advised to identify these objectives and determine how appropriate they are as they stand.
A projected goal: It's probably safe to say that at the end of the day, all higher-level educational institutions will blandly declare (good) diversity a primary objective.
A policy suggestion: Throw out outdated notions of the singular importance of ethnic diversity, and throw socioeconomics into the mix-income, wealth, neighborhood, parents' education, whatever helps fill in the holes on how comfortably each student sleeps at night.
If we're going to do "good diversity," let's do it right-renouncing our obsessive love-hate relationship with policy and getting to the crux of the problem with renewed purpose.
Jane Chong is a Trinity sophomore. Her column runs every Wednesday.
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