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The Yale Alumni Magazine is owned and operated by Yale Alumni Publications, Inc., a nonprofit corporation independent of Yale University. The content of the magazine and its website is the responsibility of the editors and does not necessarily reflect the views of Yale or its officers. |
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I am very impressed to learn that Yale has a Genocide Studies Program that helps to understand and confront this undeniable human characteristic and the conditions that make it likely to happen (“The Land That Knew Hell,” November/December). As an undergraduate, I probably would have shied away from such a program as too grim, reasoning that genocide was an occasional aberration of human history. But since reading Jared Diamond’s 1992 book, The Third Chimpanzee, I have included his chapter (“In Black and White”) on genocide as a possibly unique human trait (along with art and language) in my introductory biology class at Indiana State University. Diamond distinguishes genocide from war, shows that the Holocaust was one of scores of genocides in the past few hundred years, and that the ancient world was full of them too. Diamond’s analysis made more of an impact on me than reading horrifying news stories at intervals of a few years, and David Case’s article about Ben Kiernan’s work had a similar effect. A few weeks of comparative study of genocide would be an unforgettable part of anyone’s college education.
Yale historian Ben Kiernan has long enjoyed good press. So it is no surprise to find a glowing report about him and his current research on the long, brutal Indonesian occupation of East Timor in the pages of your magazine. Still, in labeling East Timor a case of genocide, the magazine jumps the gun. The Commission for Reception, Truth, and Reconciliation in East Timor continues its work to determine whether evidence on the quarter-century of human-rights violations endured by the East Timorese demonstrates an instance of genocide. For all the horrors that the new nation’s people suffered, that conclusion is by no means foregone.
Sex Change? I sent an e-mail to a Yale alumna today. That’s when I realized that I got her e-mail from the Yale Alumni Magazine. Shouldn’t it be the Yale Alumni/ae Magazine?
Yes. But we’ve sacrificed correct Latin for streamlined typography.—Eds.
Athletes and the Academy Paul Steiger’s article, “The High Cost of Winning” (September/October), attempted to show that athletes do not belong in prestigious educational institutions, because they were not as academically qualified when admitted and perform below their potential when there. The salient point seemed to be that the purpose of an education at prestigious schools, such as Yale, is your grade point average and class achievement. This is incorrect. The purpose of an education is to enable an individual to go out into the world and contribute to making it a better place for all to live in. An individual, first in his class, Phi Beta Kappa, graduating summa cum laude, who at his 25th reunion is underemployed, is the individual who has wasted a space in the admission group. The last in his class, who underperformed academically but has gone on to success in business, medicine, government, education, or any other field is the correct person to take that space. I have known many athletes at Yale. Some were academically stronger than others, but all have gone out and are contributing significantly to making the world a better place.
The principal problem regarding athletics and admissions seems to revolve around the number of athletes. Football is the biggest culprit because it requires the largest roster. The problem could be rectified instantly by reinstating limited substitution rules so that the majority of players played both offense and defense. Returning to one-platoon football, and thus halving the number of positions in the university’s marquee sport, would reduce the distorting effect that football has on Title IX and show that the leagues and institutions that played by such rules were never again to be construed as farm clubs for the NFL. By stressing versatility over specialization you make the game more attractive to walk-ons. By stressing endurance over power you decrease the likelihood of injuries. If the premiere institutions of the Ivy League returned to their roots, they would start the process of finding a solution to the high cost of winning and set an example.
The basic premise that having athletes will make Yale a better place is, at best, a myth that is perpetuated to enable Yale to produce (and I mean produce) a football team that can compete with the other members of the Ivy League. This provides the university’s alumni with the entertainment and the reward for their donations and certainly guarantees that the coffers at Yale stay full. It is a business, pure and simple. Unfortunately like every business it comes with costs. First, a two-tier system is created in which there are those who are accepted based on their academic qualifications and those who are not—the athletes. Second, and something that is conveniently ignored by all of those looking at this issue, is the whole issue of race. These athletes provide a “twofer” for the institution. Not only do you get a star athlete but in many cases you also get a black student, which increases the black student numbers at Yale. Is there a better way? Yes, but it requires thinking about recruiting in an entirely new way. Instead of letting the college coaches get their pick of the litter, the admissions officers should be given the same opportunity to assemble their top picks with a focus on academic superstars from disadvantaged areas. This would create a healthier academic climate with more students from diverse backgrounds being admitted on the grounds of learning and scholarship rather than on the basis of their athletic abilities. The late Yale president Kingman Brewster led the way in the 1960s towards diversity by admitting more students from public schools and other regions of the country. This bold move changed the face of higher education forever in this country. Yale can again be a leader in the 21st century by focusing on recruiting the best and the brightest, not the strongest and the fastest, from the disadvantaged segments of our society. What Yale might lose in the short term on the basketball court or athletic field, it will make up in the improved quality of the student body. This is in the best interests of not only Yale, but all colleges and universities that profess to emphasize academic achievement and scholarship.
Military Matters I was touched by Marc Wortman’s article, “Flight to Glory” (September/October). It was an inspiring piece about a pioneering group of Yale undergraduates who started an aeronautics club that would later be the cornerstone of the U.S. airborne military. Men like Bob Lovett, Trubee Davison, Crock Ingalls, and Di Gates would not only serve the country in battle but also future presidential administrations in defending America. It’s a shame we have so aggressively withdrawn our support of our military that we have denied ROTC the direct presence on campus it long had. A university with such a rich tradition in military bravery and leadership should at the very least support, allow, and provide the choice of military training right at Yale and not force those interested to go elsewhere.
Anti-military fervor at the Law School has reached such a fevered pitch that faculty are suing the Department of Defense over its interpretation of the Solomon Amendment, which comes with a minimal obligation to not obstruct military recruitment (“Campus Clips,” November/December). Before hysterical students protest the next recruiter visit to campus, I would invite them to consider another perspective on this supposed discrimination issue. Until last month I served on active duty as an Air Force captain. I can vouch for the fact that the defense department is meticulous in its compliance with equal-opportunity and non-discrimination laws. The military does not “discriminate” against gays. Rather, it requires homosexuals to be discreet about their sexuality. Likewise, the military requires its uniformed personnel to conceal or modify many other personal expressions—of dress, appearance, and behavior—in the interest of “good order and discipline.” People who join the military surrender many of their civil liberties. For example, as an officer I could face severe punishment (e.g., prison time or a dishonorable discharge) for sexual misconduct such as adultery or fraternization (relationships with enlisted personnel). Open homosexuals are given a general discharge from the service—a comparatively light sentence for intentionally violating a clear order. I believe “gays in the military” is a red herring—an excuse used by people who don’t want to tell you the real reason they dislike the military. Furthermore, contrary to the dramatic opinions of some Yale faculty, the defense department’s interpretation of the Solomon Amendment is not a constitutional issue. Nobody is forcing universities to accept discretionary federal funding. The military exists to preserve our constitutional rights and the way of life that keeps all those federal dollars flowing into university coffers. If universities say they’re against the military because of a congressionally sanctioned “discrimination policy,” then they should stop accepting all those millions of “tainted” dollars. Suing the Department of Defense is silly.
For a faculty debate on this issue, see “Forum.”—Eds.
Thoughts on the Levin Decade The article “How Yale Got Its Groove Back” (November/December), on the accomplishments of President Levin, was interesting and informative. However it was very disconcerting to read in the listing of the president’s outstanding appointments of deans “at the environment school, James Gustave Speth '64, '69LLB, director of the United Nations Development Program since 1993.” I and most of my contemporaries who have been involved in the profession of forestry are very unhappy at the movement to drop “Forestry” from the name of the school. This has had an adverse effect on contributions to the Alumni Fund.
The official name remains the School of Forestry and Environmental Studies. Dean Speth has championed “environment school” as a short name that reflects the school’s current mission.—Eds. I enjoyed your latest issue, and I rejoiced in the feeling you conveyed that things are pretty robust 'neath the elms. I live now in the shadow of Harvard and have reason to think that the successful running of such schools these days is a huge and demanding enterprise. Thanks, then, for the job you are doing as you undertake to keep us clued in.
I read the article on Levin’s presidency, and I must point out a few of the most glaring omissions and discrepancies in such a glowing account. First of all, I disagree with and resent the fact that both authors denigrated the contributions made by former presidents Brewster, Giamatti, and Schmidt in order to make it seem as though Levin were somehow exceptional. Levin lacks the scholastic, political, and moral greatness of these world-class leaders, and the changes he has brought about at Yale have moved it away from the standard of excellence established and fostered by his predecessors. As a former employee and a long-term resident of New Haven whose family continues to have ties to Yale, I have observed a marked deterioration in the culture at Yale. Levin’s presidency has overseen a shift in Yale from a community in which passionate discourse and dialogue were nurtured to a business that turns out research-for-profit and is hostile toward the Brownian motion of intellectual pursuit that naturally produces the quantum leaps in understanding our society needs. One of the problems with having a technocrat manager and an economist as president is that oftentimes complex problems involving human needs and desires get reduced to the bottom lines of budgets. Yale has witnessed such a transition under Levin’s leadership. The most clear example of this is the conflict that has arisen between its unions and especially its graduate students. It is true that Yale’s buildings under its previous three presidents were in need of repair, but within those ratty old buildings people talked with one another and socialized together. They loved Yale and felt it was a special place committed to the betterment of humankind. They were ferociously loyal to Yale, and they worked passionately on behalf of the Yale community. Levin has frittered away that commitment and devotion, as well as the institutional memory and involvement associated with them.
Barrie’s and Blasphemy I was very saddened and shocked to learn that Barrie Ltd. Booters went out of business, primarily due to Yale’s actions (“Light & Verity,” November/December). Ousting the Yale Co-op several years ago was the harbinger of this action. Why does Yale want businesses to be open until 9 p.m., six days a week? Is the university’s goal to have a campus of shoppers? As Yale always prides itself on its traditions, I find its current actions incomprehensible.
A good part of Barrie’s closing was because Yale now demands that stores on its property remain open on Sunday. One of the Ten Commandments exhorts us to keep the Sabbath holy. As Yale has a Divinity School, which I presume turns out Christian ministers, I wonder: How do they justify this mercantile side of Yale?
Sound Policies? The photo of Sprague Hall’s interior (“Light & Verity,” November/December) instantly reconnected me to an eager 18-year-old self lugging an unwieldy Ampex 602 tape deck onto that very stage to record performances for later broadcast on WYBC-FM. My halcyon nostalgia was jarred by the accompanying text which celebrated the new soundproofing as sufficient to muffle picketers outside, protesting Yale’s use of non-union subcontracted workers. Even with this year’s strike settled, I hope the administration realizes what an intense source of embarrassment Yale’s earned reputation as having the worst ongoing labor relations of any university, as reported in the same “Light & Verity” section, is to many of us alumni.
In Praise of Dean Sewall I suppose that I will forever think of him as Dean Richard Sewall rather than Professor Richard Sewall. Regardless of the title, having known him—even on a limited basis—he remains about the most cherished memory that I still possess of my Yale career. My first visual contact with Dean Sewall occurred in September 1949 at the freshman class gathering. There were about a thousand of us there to be enlightened on the true meaning of the “Yale experience” and admonished on proper undergraduate conduct. The administration evidently felt compelled to try to somehow restrain our “raging hormones,” and in addition to some illustrious upperclassmen and the university chaplain, there was a speaker from the freshman dean’s office, Richard B. Sewall. I was already in awe of New Haven and the Yale campus; it was quite a change from my Ohio boyhood. It was with considerable uneasiness, therefore, that I anticipated a torrent of inflexible reproofs and numerous veiled threats that we were obligated to uphold the honor of Yale—or else! Instead, this slender, dignified man with a magnificent “Down East” Maine accent sought to remind us that we were about to enter upon perhaps the four most important years of our lives. Then he spoke of the stimulating beauty that we might find at the university during this formative and precious time period. He emphasized how the faculty and administration were eager to help us uncover this beauty with Yale and in New Haven, and he stressed the rich holdings that our campus maintained. We were captivated by his zealous urgings, and I was enthralled by this magnificent, eloquent, and feisty man who had uplifted, and not berated, us. I also remember the time Sewall temporarily took over one of my English classes. We were studying Shakespearean tragedy, and one day I was completely unprepared for discussion. Alas, Sewall called on me, and though I did my best to circumvent the crux of his question, I anticipated a well-deserved dressing-down. Instead, he declared, rather jocularly, “Mr. Cohen, I think you have the mind of a weasel!” The professor had undoubtedly recognized a character trait that I had brought to New Haven from Ohio, and one which I have prized to the present. Several years ago, I attended a Yale class dinner in New York City. The speaker was Jim Thomson, a classmate who was editor of the Yale Daily News and one of Professor Sewall’s prize students. (Thomson died in 2002.) After he spoke, I asked him if he remembered his mentor. “Of course I did,” he replied, tears forming in his eyes. “I loved the man!” That was it: We all loved Dean Sewall, whom Thomson aptly described as “saintly and passionate.” We had indeed been blessed.
Thomas Greene’s Influence I was surprised that the death of Professor Thomas M. Greene ’49, ’55PhD, was mentioned only in the “Class Notes” section of the Yale Alumni Magazine (September/October). Greene, whose tenure at Yale in the English and comparative literature departments spanned five decades, died on June 23 in New Haven. “He was a profoundly influential teacher who shaped more than one generation of students of the Renaissance,” said David Quint, chair of the Renaissance studies program, adding that Greene set “the model of scholarly excellence, pedagogical dedication, and humane generosity.” Harold Bloom repeatedly called him “the most learned person I know.” Indeed, Greene’s interest and knowledge went far beyond the Renaissance and the classics. He read widely in many different literatures, and in his last book we find him commenting with his usual acumen on contemporary poetry. Dean Brodhead spoke of his “awesome seriousness about literary studies” and saw him as “dominating the scene” at Yale, “embodying literary study at its most passionate, compelling, and profound—literary study at the limits of its possibility as a form of human understanding.” After he retired, he poured much of his passion into creating the Open End Theatre, an attempt to make middle and high school students think as critically and creatively about their lives as he asked his graduate students to think about the texts they were reading. Professor Greene was a respected and beloved mentor to many, a scholar whose writings were widely read and admired, a supportive and thoughtful colleague and friend. There is more information about him on the Yale Bulletin and Calendar website at yale.edu/opa/v31.n32/story22.html. Some sense of his influence can be obtained by reading the addresses from his memorial service at Battell Chapel on September 5, 2003.
Overediting? I am disappointed by the edits you made to my letter (November/December) on the “Second Coming of the Divinity School” article. I explicitly stated that I was a gay man because I find it important to note that there are many LGBT people who have a very good time at YDS. This flies in the face of the strategies of some “downtown” folk to present the place as a bastion of Christian traditionalism that is opposed to human rights for LGBT people. I think that your choice to omit my own self-description as a gay man changes the authority of my mild critique of the Larry Kramer Initiative—which I made as a gay Christian (Episcopalian) man. Finally, you misspelled my last name as Gonzales and identified my divinity degree as an MDiv rather than an MAR.
Correction In “Sightings” (November/December), the name of the banner designer was misspelled. The correct spelling is Lesley Tucker ’01MFA.
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