Inside Penn’s highest governing body: The Board of Trustees, by the numbers
Two experts told the DP that Penn’s board size and culture have played a role in how the University has navigated the national spotlight JIN
Pro-Palestinian faculty group sues Penn, aiming to stop transfer of documents to Congress
The complaint alleges that efforts to investigate the University over alleged antisemitism on campus have threatened professors’ academic freedom BEN
A group of Penn professors filed a lawsuit against the University, alleging a pattern of “McCarthyism” for preventing speech in opposition to Israel and seeking to stop the University from submitting documents to Congress.
The lawsuit was filed on March 9 by associate professor of Arabic literature Huda Fakhreddine and history and Africana studies professor Eve Troutt Powell in conjunction with Penn Faculty for Justice in Palestine, a collective of Penn faculty who say they are standing in solidarity with Palestinians. The complaint alleges that efforts to investigate the University over alleged antisemitism on campus have threatened professors’ academic freedom.
The faculty hope the lawsuit will convince the University not to comply with the House Committee on Education and the Workforce’s request for a plethora of documents pertaining to on-campus antisemitism, which they described as including “teaching files, emails, and other material for political scrutiny,” according to a press release from PFJP.
“This nation is seeing a new form of McCarthyism, in which accusations of anti-Semitism are substituted for the insinuations of Communist leanings which were the tool of oppression in the 1950’s,” the complaint reads.
The suit adds further legal scrutiny to the University,
Amid a series of controversies and a leadership crisis in recent months, Penn’s Board of Trustees has gained significant attention for how it operates as the University’s highest governing body.
In light of the increased scrutiny of the trustees — some of which has
Excerpts of depositions from Penn admin. o er new insight into Mackenzie Fierceton lawsuit
In his deposition, former Provost and Interim President Wendell Pritchett acknowledged that Fierceton had the right to a presumption of innocence KATIE
New documents released in Mackenzie Fierceton’s lawsuit against the University in January provide new insight into the circumstances surrounding her allegations.
Penn administrators — including Deputy Provost Beth Winkelstein, Senior Vice President and General Counsel Wendy White, and former Interim Penn President Wendell Pritchett — gave depositions throughout June and July 2023, according to court documents. Though the lawsuit has been ongoing since 2021, excerpts of the deposition transcripts were only recently made public in case filings.
In her initial lawsuit, Fierceton alleged a connection between the University’s investigation into her background and her efforts to determine whether the 2018 death of Cameron Avant Driver, a School of Social Policy & Practice graduate student, was the result of inadequate accessibility in campus buildings. The lawsuit also pushed back against the investigation — which focused on Fierceton’s first-generation, low-income status — and asserted that the University aimed to discredit her.
In a statement to The Daily Pennsylvanian,
a University spokesperson said that Penn has filed a motion asking the court to dismiss the case because “there is no factual or legal basis” for Fierceton’s claims. He described the student conduct investigation into Fierceton as “thorough and fair,” adding that the Rhodes committee investigation also concluded there were “misrepresentations in the application.”
“Discovery has confirmed what we have said from the outset,” the spokesperson said. “Every witness, including Ms. Fierceton, has acknowledged that Penn had an obligation to notify the Rhodes Trust when questions surfaced about the accuracy of the materials submitted in support of Ms. Fierceton’s scholarship application.”
Fierceton and her lawyer Dion Rassias declined requests for comment.
On March 4, the plaintiff and defendants both filed motions for summary judgment in their favor on the case. The DP is in the process of reviewing Fierceton’s and Penn’s filings, which are part of a separate phase in the lawsuit.
which is already facing a complaint from multiple Jewish students alleging a failure to combat antisemitism on campus.
The claim alleges that Penn is “privileging, protecting, and endorsing” pro-Israel speech over pro-Palestinian speech in the University’s academic community. The complaint contends that the term “antisemitism” has been used “in egregious ontological error, to chill, punish, and end virtually all moral, political, legal, and other criticism of the nation-state Israel.”
A University spokesperson said that Penn had not yet been served and had no other comment on the case. A summons was issued on Monday.
Fakhreddine and Powell specifically criticized the University’s response to the Oct. 7, 2023 Hamas attacks on Israel, suggesting that Penn did not have a sufficient focus on free expression on campus and did not offer support to Jewish and Muslim students who have questioned Israel’s policies.
“After October 7th, our protesting the beginning of Israel’s retaliation against Gaza were met with the doxing of many of us – students, postdocs, staff and faculty – and
In her applications to Penn and later the Rhodes Scholarship, Fierceton detailed her childhood, including an alleged history of physical abuse from her mother and sexual abuse from her mother’s boyfriend. She also identified herself as a FGLI college student as a result of her estrangement from her mother and financial independence.
In November 2020, the University received an anonymous email alleging that Fierceton had fabricated many of these details. On Nov. 30, 2020 — approximately one week after the University received the email — Winkelstein called Fierceton for questioning.
According to a memorandum filed by Rassias in December 2023, Winkelstein stated in a July 2023 deposition that White and Deputy General Counsel Sean Burke scripted “all of” the questions that Fierceton was asked. The memorandum stated that — in the deposition — Winkelstein added that she proactively called Student Intervention Services before the questioning, recognizing that Fierceton may have needed support afterward.
Rassias contended in the memorandum that Winkelstein’s proactivity was evidence that the Penn defendants “certainly knew that the interrogation would be extremely painful and difficult for the Plaintiff.” He further
little if any statements on the part of the administration to support our right to free speech,” Powell said in the press release.
The lawsuit also criticizes the House Committee on Education and the Workforce, the congressional committee that has been investigating Penn in recent months, due to “grave concerns” about the University’s response to antisemitism.
“The Committee is engaged in a partisan witch hunt by seeking syllabi, academic papers, and other material from Penn faculty of all ranks, with the search highlighting keywords like Jew, Israel, antisemitism, Palestine, Gaza, resistance, settler colonialism and diversity, equity and inclusion, to name most of their criteria,” the PFJP press release reads.
In a post on X, the platform formerly known as Twitter, national director and chief executive officer of the AntiDefamation League Jonathan Greenblatt referred to the lawsuit as “mind-boggling.”
“Faculty at @Penn should be welcoming the @ EdWorkforceCmte investigation into campus #antisemitism, not trying to thwart it,” Greenblatt wrote. “How about this — prioritize keeping Penn safe for its Jewish students.”
On Feb. 7, The Daily Pennsylvanian reported that Penn would begin a multiple-week process of transferring documents to the Committee. The requested documents included those relating to antisemitism or anti-Zionism on campus, pro-Palestine groups and actions at Penn, foreign donations to the University, and data on Jewish enrollment.
In a written statement to the DP, History and Sociology of Science professor and former director of the Middle East Center Harun Küçük called the lawsuit a “guardrail for our university” and a “good faith, even friendly effort” to prevent Penn from taking unconstitutional actions in providing the information requested by the Committee.
“First Amendment retaliation is also a serious breach of the freedom of expression for which the United States is rightly revered,” he wrote. “What is happening, in other
words, is unamerican.” In a Feb. 29 interview, Committee Chair Virginia Foxx (R-N.C.) told the DP that she expected Penn’s rolling submission of documents “all to come together.” She also indicated that the Committee has not decided whether to subpoena the University for documents, as it recently did to Harvard University.
“Penn has discriminated against those of its employees who work hard for this university and remain deeply committed to teaching all students, no matter their origins, their politics, or their religious backgrounds,” the PFJP press release read. “[PFJP] hopes that this lawsuit will encourage Penn to acknowledge that commitment, and to protect its faculty from a committee that forced the resignation of former president [Magill].”
Shahily Negron, the lawyer representing the plaintiffs, told the Associated Press that “The University of Pennsylvania is about to produce documents that we feel will put my client(s) ... at risk.”
“When Congress knocks on your door, it’s really hard to tell them to go away,” Negron said.
Fakhreddine was directly criticized during the Committee’s December 2023 hearing featuring former Penn President Liz Magill. At the hearing, congressmembers questioned Fakhreddine’s continued employment at Penn.
“How are students in Fakhreddine’s class supposed to receive fair treatment when she endorses hatred?” congressmember Joe Wilson (R-S.C.) asked during the hearing.
The Committee’s Jan. 24 letter demanding a plethora of documents from Penn also listed Fakhreddine as an example of a faculty member who had “made antisemitic remarks and statements in support of Hamas” following the group’s Oct. 7 attacks on Israel.
The letter listed several examples of Fakhreddine’s allegedly antisemitic remarks, including an Oct. 7 tweet in Arabic that “while we were asleep, Palestine invented a new way of life” and statements at an Oct. 16, 2023 protest that “Israel is the epitome of antisemitism [and] desecrates the memory of the Holocaust victims.”
The lawsuit also criticizes the recent lawsuit filed against the University by two Jewish students alleging an insufficient response to antisemitism on campus. It suggests that their lawsuit is part of a “social engineering movement to repeal the First Amendment as far as speech critical of Israel is concerned.”
TRUSTEES, from FRONT PAGE
Penn’s trustees are either “selected by the Nominating Committee of the Trustees and elected at a Stated Meeting,” elected by alumni, or appointed by specific representatives of the Pennsylvania General Assembly.
While Cornell designates specific seats for students, faculty and non-academic staff, Penn rejected proposals seeking student representation on the Board of Trustees last year.
Penn had as many as 58 trustees sitting on its board in the last few years before a slight decrease in the past two years. A board of 50 people is “just unmanageable,” Joni Finney, the former director of the Institute for Research on Higher Education and a professor of practice at Penn, said.
University of Pennsylvania Carey Law School lecturer Charles Elson echoed this sentiment. Elson said that although the role of a board is to monitor the university president, a larger board makes communication and maintaining a “candid relationship” more difficult.
Both experts said that the large size of the board is likely influenced by the number of donors who seek representation.
“You’ve given money, you may want a name, you may want a seat on the board … there are demands that people make,” Finney said.
Elson added that board seats are also connected to the possibility of future donations being made to the university in question.
“If someone is on a board, they’re more likely to commit financially to the institution because they have a chance to oversee their money,” Elson said.
The DP also found that a majority of the trustees serving on Penn’s board have worked in leadership positions at large investment banks, private equity firms, and other companies in the financial services industry.
Finney said that a board composed of members who make significant donations to the University could lead to those members interfering in ways outside of their jurisdiction.
“Rather than tapping people who are great business and civic leaders of the nation, we tap people who are from Wall Street, or who are investment bankers, or who give a lot of money,” Finney said.
On the other hand, Elson said that it is important for trustees to be donors as well, because it gives them a stake in the success or failure of the institution. He added that people in the financial industry tend to have both the affluence to contribute funding and an understanding of business functioning that applies to universities with large endowments — which he described as “multibillion dollar businesses.”
Elson also pointed to several other areas of expertise that serve as useful representation on a
board, including educational legal expertise and large scale nonprofit and public company management.
The DP found that Penn’s Board of Trustees is approximately two-thirds white and two-thirds male.
Finney said it is important for a board’s composition to be diverse, adding that “different voices and different kinds of people” help to prevent the board from becoming an “echo chamber.”
She said that the board plays a role in the composition of the student body due to its role in determining student financial factors such as tuition and financial aid.
“They should want a student body that looks very much like America; that means you have to provide financial aid,” Finney said. “That means you have to take into consideration issues of affordability.”
While most of the trustees who served in 2023 and were the subjects of the DP’s analysis had strong attendance records, 13 out of 51 attended 50% or fewer meetings in the past five years. The size of a board affects how individual trustees are involved and how much they attend, both Finney and Elson suggested.
“The more people there are there, the more your absence is not felt,” Elson said. “If you don’t show up, generally, it won’t be noticed. And that’s a real problem, because you should be at every meeting.”
Wharton Board of Advisors Chair Marc Rowan led the push to oust University leadership last semester and has recently drawn headlines for calling for the trustees to potentially reconsider various academic policies. When he served on the Board of Trustees himself, Rowan attended one of 13 full board meetings between 2019 and 2023.
A spokesperson for Rowan said that he attended virtually all of the committee meetings and private sessions of the board meetings during his tenure.
Elson suggested that a bifurcated structure, like that used by Harvard University’s governing board, could allow for a large board to exist in more of an advisory role. He described Penn leadership’s reaction to the Palestine Writes Literature Festival and the Israel-Hamas war as “too little too late,” adding that the board had a responsibility to “step in and correct or replace” in those situations.
“You had a leadership issue, and you also had a board governance issue,” he added.
Finney worried that some members of the Board of Trustees have been “a lightning rod for political interference in a very visible way.” She said that a small but diverse board could be more effective.
“It doesn’t mean we have to give up on gifts and asking people to give,” Finney said. “We need to find other ways for alumni to engage with the university, rather than just be on the board.”
The Office of the University Secretary — which supports University governing bodies including the board — did not respond to a request for comment.
horizons, on a human level, look bleak. Philadelphia is not a college town. It is a real city, a Black city, a poor city whose reality reflects the depth of the American crisis and yet contains the possibilities of its salvation. From the soil of this city rose heroes like Teddy Pendergrass, The Delfonics, McCoy Tyner, and Alfie Pollitt. A friend, then a nursing student who had packed her bags for New York City after graduation and returned a few years later to work in the hospitals, remarked on her return, “Philadelphia has soul.”
have already paid that price for that ticket, and their
In the five years since I’ve graduated,
How many times have you found yourself in a never-ending cycle of back-and-forth messages, trying to pin down a date for a long overdue catch-up with a friend? Every get-together begins to feel as if it requires intricate planning and strips away the simplicity of social connection. This routine becomes stifling, lacking spontaneity and authenticity; you’re constrained to coordinating with the same faces in the same places.
That’s what I like to call scheduling fatigue.
As a result of this phenomenon, gatherings among friends are beginning to resemble
scheduled business meetings, meticulously arranged via tools like When2Meet or synchronized Google Calendars. While resorting to scheduling may seem like the only viable option to maintain a semblance of social connection, perhaps it’s time to embrace the idea of venturing out solo: I’m challenging you to go on an unplanned side quest all by yourself to a third place.
Allow me to explain. Picture the first place as your home and the second as your place of education or work. Now, the third place emerges as a public sphere where individuals congregate, not
the tone of campus has shifted. Students are developing a new language in order to deal with existential questions: what is the purpose of education and the responsibility of students in the wake of war?
More than in my time, it is now clear that we, the students, want to be free. The crisis is deepening, and history is accelerating.
Fewer illusions are possible for the young mind in Philadelphia, which tempers and sharpens it like metal on metal. What the path to whiteness and an invented safety then produces is a delusional and unfree state. My peers, who are banking, coding, and consulting their lives away, are living as prisoners to the choices they’ve made.
All the beauty, genius, and potential I witnessed when we were young together, freshman year before the vicious teeth of Penn successfully “socialized” most of us, has been wasted, whittled down into dust, and lost. My old friends might have money, but they didn’t manage to save their souls, and some part of them knows this fact — that they are perishing. We were never meant to become the fools and tools of the mythic America: the one that is superior, war-hungry, greedy, and hypocritical. These choices did their damage. That was an aberration. Now, we are entering a time of correction.
We want to know the meaning of our lives when we live in a country whose hand assassinates a man and poet as beautiful and courageous as Refaat Alareer, when we live in a society in which Aaron Bushnell had to die so that humanity could live. When the youngest students of Philadelphia stand to say they are no different from the children of Palestine, that the bombs dropped abroad also explode in our neighborhoods, we then know it is true for ourselves — that we bleed the same as these children in Palestine, as all the men and women we
encounter in Philadelphia.
Our bondage to the genocide in Gaza is through the struggle to become moral human beings in America, and to relinquish our country from the myths that strangle us and our people.
It is unmistakable that the education Penn offers is bankrupt, and that some cancer, invisible but detectable, poisons our relationships to each other and to ourselves. The scramble for acceptance into mediocre clubs and fraternities is insufferable, and the false authority these groups stand on in order to make these judgments is embarrassing. Within this sea and storm of immoral standards, the truth and our touchstone live in the broader historic moment — the crisis we know and the possibilities we see.
The real task of Penn students is the same as it always has been: to be present in their lives, in this city, to examine and test the assumptions they have inherited, to develop a coherent worldview that explains the reality before them. To investigate and challenge the standards of their education, peers, and professors. And to then act and live by these new definitions, through which we will discover freedom. The world makes us, and we make it, too.
If we were meant to become the leaders of this country and makers of history, as so many of us have been told from youth into maturity — that we are capable of this — then, this is our role to fulfill: a brave, original, and purposeful life that skirts the frontier of new standards for this nation. The choices we make now will decide the fate of this country.
This semester, I somehow ended up with four out of my five classes being either directly or indirectly about ethics. As a political science major, I was really excited to take these classes, since whenever people talk about ethics nowadays, it mostly has to do with politics or international relations.
At a time when our reality changes so rapidly because of technology, and when we are faced with a number of global challenges, some people have forgotten about the importance of acting morally. Especially at a place like Penn, where everyone seems to be extremely worried about their future and their careers, people often disregard these values when they are caught up by the competitive environment. Because of this, one would think that ethics classes would be extremely beneficial for all, but do they actually contribute to making students more ethical individuals?
According to my professors, they don’t.
In all four ethics classes, my professors started the semester by telling us that ethics classes will not make most of us more ethical. I sat there, listening to all of them, and I just could not understand why they would say something like that. If I wasn’t going to learn anything, what was the point of taking these classes?
That’s where I was wrong: I have been
learning a lot. While perhaps the main goal of ethics classes is not to turn students into more ethical people, they definitely give us the tools we need to critically engage with ethical dilemmas. By taking these classes, I might not become a better person, but they have given me a space where I can explore, discuss, and reflect about where I stand on so many issues and what my beliefs about morality actually are. Ethics is not a subject that can be forcefully taught through lectures and readings. There is no way that we can sit down for three hours every week and magically become more ethical just because we memorize theories and read long papers written by old, white men. The goal of these classes is not to tell us what is ‘right’ or ‘wrong,’ but to give us the skills to navigate the gray areas in ethical decisionmaking. These classes encourage self-reflection and personal growth. Even when analyzing big case studies or exploring different theories, students are pushed to question their own values, beliefs, and biases. While this may not guarantee that we will completely transform our moral compass, the self-awareness that comes from these reflections creates a great foundation for understanding why we act the way we do and also invites us to try to understand others.
out of any obligation like in the latter ones, but, for lack of a more precise term, to simply vibe. It could be the cozy corner of a café, a communal park, or even the neighborhood barbershop — anywhere that’ll allow you to interact with people outside your usual circles.
Yet, at many universities like Penn, the concept of a third place seems all but lost as our lives remain restricted to school grounds, causing even our first and second places to converge into one. While spots on campus — like Stommons, Pret, or the cultural centers in ARCH — can offer some respite, they often come with the latent pressure of being on the clock. Conversations here will revolve around assignments, internships, and the intricacies of Penn culture; the chances of an unexpected encounter dwindle given that most people in attendance will be other Penn students. As we’re cocooned to the Penn bubble, it comes as no surprise that many students spend their four years in Philadelphia without ever fully exploring it. w
Yet, this insulation comes at a cost that extends far beyond what we realize.
It severs our connection not only from the outside world but also from ourselves. That is, within such limits, our individuality dwindles, reducing us to mere roles influenced by our peers. By excluding ourselves from a wider social sphere, we inhibit opportunities to engage with diverse perspectives, trap ourselves in a cycle of familiarity, and risk leading monotonous lives that pave the way to burnout.
However, in our lives, both intimacy and affiliation with broader communities are essential. While intimacy often stems from our immediate
circles, affiliation thrives in third places where spontaneous interactions occur. These spaces facilitate easy contact with new individuals on a regular basis, without the need for prior scheduling. As they consistently offer an opportunity for interaction with others, in a way they end up cultivating the most reliable form of socialization.
So, if you are keen on exploring new horizons and getting involved in the Philadelphia community, I suggest checking out the many informative articles dedicated to bursting the Penn bubble.
Nonetheless, I want to avoid confining third places to physical locations; they’re more of a mindset, a willingness to embrace spontaneity wherever it may arise. They don’t have to be far from campus or require spending money. Instead, third places can be any informal spots you visit — whether it’s your student lounge, the library, or a community center.
We often find ourselves caught up in the routines of daily life, clinging to familiar patterns of scheduling and social interaction. However, amidst the chaos, it’s crucial to pause and reflect on the quality of our connections.
Perhaps it’s time to break free from the shackles of scheduling fatigue and explore what third places offer.
LALA MUSTAFA is a College sophomore studying international relations and history from Baku, Azerbaijan. Her email address is lmustafa@sas.upenn. edu.
The
Why critics are missing the mark on Penn’s artificial intelligence major
UNHINGED | Rethinking the role of private institutions in today’s technological discourse
During Penn’s recent administrative upheaval, the University community found an unexpected silver lining: for the first time, Penn was making headlines alongside Harvard and MIT.
The presidents of these three institutions were at the center of an infamous congressional hearing in December after their alleged missteps on campus antisemitism. I’ll admit, there is something far more distasteful about chaos on the Capitol than the collective HYPSM prestige.
But many of us are taking our education at Penn for granted, shedding our “que será, será” optimism, and wondering at times what it would be like to go to a more recognizable Ivy. For decades, we’ve all but exhausted our morale by clarifying to passersby that no, Penn State and Penn are not the same university. And yes, Penn is actually active in areas outside of Wharton’s finance programs.
So, when Penn Engineering announced its new undergraduate program in artificial intelligence, many of us were enthusiastic about the University’s growing role in the innovation sector: a space thought to be dominated by less business-oriented institutions.
But Penn’s realization, of possibly its most practical initiative, begs the question: is the University actually necessary in DevOps? Does sitting in a classroom — let alone one that’s in the midst of a campus known for its influx of finance bros — really supersede what can be MacGyvered by a tech junkie with only a laptop, caffeine, and time? I want to give a definite “no.” Otherwise, I would need to hold my classmates and myself accountable for upholding all the exclusivity that comes with attending Penn. And yet, there are a frustrating number of anonymous netizens, D-list journalists, and LinkedIn bards who call Ivy League universities like Penn “out of touch” — remnants of centuries-old American elitism in an era of bottom-up grassroots movements.
One C-suite executive anticipates that “the best AI engineers and builders won’t graduate Penn Engineering. They’ll be global, builders and in the right group chats.” His readers agree, with one commenter further emphasizing that “universities cannot keep up with the pace of free market innovation.” When these schools attempt to go against the grain and align with consumer needs, “it genuinely looks embarrassing and out of date.”
In an environment where the use of AI models is largely democratized, we’re naturally drawn to the trope of a layperson who forgoes bureaucratic systems to channel their intelligence: creating life-changing inventions that would have never come to be under self-serving corporate and political influences. And when ignoring cases of succor — as mainstream media unfortunately does — there are many examples of such successes. Bill Gates and Paul Allen, co-founders of Microsoft, were university dropouts. So were Meta Platforms co-founders Mark Zuckerberg and Dustin Moskovitz. As Penn’s overreliance on donors came to light earlier this school year, critics of the upper crust have continued to group Penn with other perpetrators of social stratification. The field of AI is, by nature, continuously evolving. And limiting
growth in the discipline to those who can afford, and then succeed in, Penn’s department of Computer and Information Science courses is counterproductive.
However, these narratives misrepresent the intentions of Penn’s AI program.
To make a better case for Penn’s AI major, I spoke with Robert Ghrist, Andrea Mitchell professor and associate dean for undergraduate education at Penn Engineering. He describes how the process of integrating AI in education is similar to the effects of increasing access to music recording and playback technologies. Now, there is “more music for everyone at much lower prices,” he told me. Nonetheless, “artists at the very top of the industry” are increasingly the benefactors of “a concentration of rewards.” Taylor Swift is, as any current news feed can attest to, perhaps the most prolific embodiment of such phenomena. And professor Ghrist strives to make Penn an incubator of sorts for the “Taylor Swifts of AI” that seek avenues for academic growth, to actually be the “leading
edge where the best thrive.”
And to thrive in this discipline, aspiring AI mavens are off course by simply memorizing browser instructions in JavaScript and praying for a technical equivalent of the coveted Goldman Sachs internship. After all, studying AI is a philosophical pursuit: an inquiry into the nature of consciousness and ethics of creating sentient machines. It’s also a political pursuit, for AI poses challenges in regulatory compliance. There are countless possible liabilities for even the most basic ChatGPT input, such as unprotected user data and violations of intellectual property rights.
Needless to say, as you might have noticed in my earlier columns, I am not an AI major. I’m not even enrolled in Penn Engineering. Am I, of all students, in the right to quash critics of the Penn AI major when I dropped AP Computer Science in high school (with no regrets)?
Yet, it’s clearly irresponsible to follow the well-intentioned advice from tech capitalists when constant
innovation is not particularly ideal for society. Maybe I’m just afraid of a “Black Mirror”-esque dystopia, but there is a kind of ominous quality to the idea of highly skilled AI scientists off the reins. Penn, however, is cultivating an ecosystem that nurtures AI talent, albeit not by stifling the next Elon Musk or Sam Altman with red-tape-ridden academics; instead, Penn fosters ethically conscious innovation that addresses complex societal challenges. And so, the fact that I can engage with the Penn curricula across departments has a surprising beauty. The opportunity to become a part of this technological movement — or, dare I say, revolution — is the gift of studying AI at Penn.
MRITIKA SENTHIL is a first year studying management and Russian & East European Studies from Columbia, S.C. Her email is mritikas@upenn.edu.
No closed captioning available LA CHISMOSA | Non-native English speakers should be able to freely express themselves in their rst languages
On my first day at Penn, I called my father in distress, telling him I needed to move back home and study there as I was going to die alone at this university. My father asked why, and I quickly responded, “I haven’t met anybody in three hours. I have no friends. It’s over for me.”
That very same night, I went to a New Student Orientation event at Houston Hall. As I nervously paced the floor in my Crocs, I overheard some students speaking Spanish and immediately gravitated toward them. Confessing, “I heard Spanish, and I feel saved.” I ended up meeting three genuine individuals, all from various parts of Latin America. Having arrived in the United States, it felt comforting to hear voices that reminded me of home. This comfort is priceless in such a foreign environment.
All my life, I’ve taken courses in Spanish, spoken Spanish at home, and been berated by my grandmother whenever I spoke too much English. Arriving at Penn, I didn’t anticipate the struggle I would face taking classes taught in English, as I had been lucky enough to have been extensively taught English from a very young age.
But speaking in a second language most of the time, even as a fluent speaker, is incredibly draining. Meeting native Spanish speakers at Penn was truly a blessing. However, I have found that some people react adversely to me speaking my primary language. These are not continuous reactions of a high degree, but they have been enough small instances to mark me.
On various occasions, I have had Latinx friends say, “Let’s speak English so X person doesn’t feel excluded,” or even resort to English for “convenience” when we’re alone. For the former, I understand the sentiment. I wouldn’t want someone to be excluded from a conversation in such a way. However, when I’m naturally speaking Spanish, having my speech interpreted as a personal offense is off-putting.
In one instance, I met a student through a mutual friend on a night out. This friend and I speak fluent Spanish; the person I had just met did not. Throughout the night, I had various conversations with my new acquaintance — who I found quite amicable — and my friend. I would naturally speak Spanish with the latter, not thinking much of it. The next morning, my friend told me how the new acquaintance felt I hated them for speaking Spanish in front of them, knowing they didn’t speak the language. I was shocked by the assumption and, in all honesty, a little offended. I found it quite conceited that one would think another person is speaking in their first language to actively exclude them. Speaking in a first language, for me, is purely a relief issue. Although I am fluent in English, after an entire week of speaking it, it can be extremely draining; thus, particularly in a social setting, I don’t want to add to the exhaustion.
It is more than fine to be curious about what
somebody is saying and ask for a translation. However, immediately expressing discomfort upon hearing another language and presuming the other person is talking badly about you is inconsiderate toward them. More often than not, this language switch is for comfort. This was the first of sufficient instances that exposed a pattern in my time at Penn. In another class, I grew close to a few other Spanish-speaking students. One of them continuously suggested we switch back to English for seemingly no valid reason and would reply to any comment of mine in English.
This harsh reality on campus expands into the club scene. In one instance, a native English speaker attended a club meeting primarily led in Spanish. Within this meeting, if club members asked questions in Spanish, any other members who answered quickly switched to English. Evidently, the intent is to have everybody be able to partake in conversation. However, members within a Spanish-led group should be able to detach from English formalities within club meetings, particularly if the club seeks to embrace Latinx heritage.
Speaking in my primary language is the greatest manifestation of my culture, particularly since Spanish accents are so diverse throughout Latin America. Having to switch to English not only in academic settings but in seemingly every other sphere of Penn life further disconnects me from the culture I’ve been surrounded by my entire life until now. This applies to any person whose main language isn’t English, not only to Spanish speakers.
Penn has students from over 100 countries, with around 19% of the student body being international. If one truly wants to immerse themselves in Penn’s multilingual community, one needs to recognize that a language barrier works both ways. Just as an English speaker may be tired from learning another language, a nonEnglish speaker can be drained from constantly speaking English. It’s crucial to recognize that for the latter, multilingualism surpasses a simple language requirement and spills over to nearly every sector of their life at Penn.
Language fatigue is a true reality, especially for individuals who haven’t learned English from a young age. Thus, if somebody within your social group is speaking their first language, which you are not fluent in, it does not give you the right to feel offended or urge them to speak in a tongue you understand. And, if you are a non-native English speaker, as much as you can, “habla en tu primer idioma y que los demás se ubiquen.”
BEATRIZ BÁEZ is a College first year studying mathematics and political science from San Juan, P.R. Her email is beabaez@sas.upenn. edu.
FIERCETON, from
condemned the University’s failure to give Fierceton advance notice.
In their response to Rassias’ memorandum, Penn denied the allegations that Winkelstein “aggressively and insensitively interrogated” Fierceton.
In his deposition, Pritchett acknowledged that Fierceton had the right to a presumption of innocence. When questioned further, he testified that students accused of sexual assault are provided a trained advocate, adding that he was unaware if Fierceton had been given an advocate.
Rassias asserted in the memorandum that Fierceton was never provided an advocate, describing this lack of support as “ironic” given that “Penn so thoughtfully provides for students accused of rape and sex crimes on its campus.”
Several Penn professors who wrote Fierceton letters of recommendation condemned the University’s response in their depositions.
In her Sept. 18, 2023 deposition, SP2 professor Amy Hillier said that “nothing would have prepared” Fierceton for the interrogation she received from Winkelstein. She cited Fierceton’s financial status as perpetuating inequity, adding that she would have benefited from an attorney.
“Most of the time that this happens where the University starts interrogating its own students, they have biological parents who hire attorneys who are there with them,” Hillier said. “And this was a very different situation and I think greatly contributed to Mackenzie’s vulnerability relative to the University.”
In her June 27, 2023 deposition, professor of political science Anne Norton criticized Winkelstein and White for misrepresenting her letter of recommendation for Fierceton. Norton accused them of “violating terms of employment by failing to maintain procedural integrity and to accord to the basic standards of academic rigor and responsibility.”
Norton cited a line in the Faculty Handbook. She said “any member of the University community can bring charges and request for sanctions against any other member of the University community for making false charges, either maliciously or out of negligent indifference to the truth.”
“This is ground zero for us. You have to — you aren’t allowed to lie, especially about your students or about research you have done or to make claims or statements about students or about your work, which are not true and that you have not researched,” Norton said.
Norton told the DP that she stands by the statements she made in her deposition.
Adjunct professor of law Catherine Carr, another of Fierceton’s recommenders, also said she was “pissed” at the University’s allegations in her Sept. 15 deposition, adding that she saw no inconsistencies in Fierceton’s Rhodes
application. “I was offended that nobody [involved in the allegations] picked up the phone or sent me an email and said ‘Let me ask you about your letters.’ Nobody bothered. Instead, they just start taking her degrees away,” Carr said.
In a statement to the DP, Carr said that she hopes the litigation can be “resolved quickly so that Mackenzie can put this behind her and get on with her life and career.”
“As I said in my recommendation letters, she is brilliant and compassionate and will be a wonderful advocate for change in the child welfare system,” Carr said. “That’s why she wanted the Rhodes Scholarship in the first place.”
The motion also includes email communications between White and the American Secretary for the Rhodes Trust Elliot Gerson.
In one email, Gerson asks White to give a “direct statement from what [Fierceton] wrote or said in those that are probably untrue.”
Rassias contended that this email is evidence that Gerson had been “spoonfed” evidence by Winkelstein and White instead of drawing his own conclusions independently.
In another email, Gerson notes that Fierceton made a “brilliant effort not technically to lie.” White responded to this email by asking Gerson to call her.
Rassias alleged that this response was “incredibly ironic considering the depths of the skullduggery now being perpetrated.” He specifically pointed to a moment in White’s deposition in which she states that she “destroys”
her notes as an explanation for why there is no written record of what was said in the call. Rassias was referring to when White was asked about a call she allegedly had with Fierceton’s biological mother at the start of the investigation. White said she “doesn’t keep” and “destroys” her notes, a practice she learned while working for the Clinton administration.
“I learned that if you hold onto your notes, they are going to be produced to Congress,” White said in her deposition. “I learned early on when I came to the University of Pennsylvania, that while I may scribble some things down, it is not evidence.”
Rassias described the Clinton administration as “certainly a dubious mentor in this specific regard,” and points to “White’s learned lessons of leaving no paper trail” as the reason why she requested that Gerson call her.
The depositions also examine the definition of FGLI, and show that Penn administrators gave competing definitions of the term.
Pritchett — who was deposed on June 9, 2023 — said that FGLI is an “evolving” phrase with “competing definitions.”
“It is a vaguely defined category of students that has become en vogue as a term in the last decade,” he said, adding that Penn’s philosophy is generally to be “supportive.”
White gave a different definition of FGLI in her June 14, 2023 deposition. She described it as a “student club,” explaining that “anybody who wants to identify and join that group is welcome to do so.”
“It is like a lot of student clubs we have … there is no application process. It is not a term that we use in the admissions process,” White added.
Rassias alleged that these competing definitions, as well as 12 additional definitions for FGLI that have been used by Penn, show that it is a term subject to “a sliding scale analysis — a scale weighted by whatever suits Penn’s own interests at any given moment.”
“In the height of hypocrisy, the Defendants drew an absolute ‘FGLI’ line against the Plaintiff and enforced it so harshly that they have destroyed her forever,” Rassias wrote in a memorandum.
In a Jan. 12 response to Fierceton’s motions, the lawyers on the case denied the allegations, only admitting that the years Fierceton applied to Penn were accurate.
“Penn denies that it engaged in illegal and outrageous retaliation against Plaintiff. Penn further denies that Plaintiff’s representations about her background and placement in foster care in application materials were fully truthful,” the response reads. “Penn further denies that Plaintiff’s application as a first-generation, low-income student was correct.”
On Feb. 1, the court granted an omnibus discovery motion filed by Fierceton, which allows for the depositions of Winkelstein, White, and Pritchett to be reopened. The motion also requests that White provide a “full, complete and unredacted” copy of all text messages with Fierceton’s mother.
