100 Years of Hoover

Stanford politics magazine

APRIL 2019 | ISSUE 07 STANFORDPOLITICS.ORG

100 years of

HOOVER

A HISTORY OF STANFORD’S DECADES-LONG DEBATE WITH THE HOOVER INSTITUTION

Your rundown Yourbi-weekly weekly rundown ofofStanford Stanfordnews news

and andcommentary commentaryonon campus, campus,local, local,US US,

andworld worldpolitics. politics. and

STANFORDPOLITICS.ORG/MONDAYMEMO

EDITOR’S NOTE Our second magazine of the academic year comes to you a bit later than expected, but we hope you agree that this issue’s cover story is well worth the wait. In it, senior staff writers Roxy Bonafont, Emily Lemmerman, and Lucas Rodriguez delve into the past, present, and future of one of Stanford’s most controversial and least understood entities: The Hoover Institution. Through interviews with key figures such as Provost Persis Drell and the institution’s Director, Thomas Gilligan, along with deep dives into university archives and past Hoover features from campus publications like The Daily, this piece aims to highlight recurring patterns in the debate surrounding Hoover while clarifying the institution’s role on our campus.

In addition to our cover story, this issue of Stanford Politics Magazine includes pieces regarding both national and international politics. In “Testing the Peace,” magazine director Nathalie Kiersznowski discusses the potential impact of Brexit on Irish Unification. In his second piece for Stanford Politics, Kyle Wang questions the label “Asian-American,” noting that this categorization often fails to represent all Asians. And lastly, in “Rural Engagement,” Thomas Pfeiffer examines the rural student experience at Stanford. The diversity of topics and perspectives present in this issue of our magazine are representative of Stanford Politics’ mission to provide high-quality, well-researched, nonpartisan political journalism to the Stanford community, and we hope you find these stories as crucial and compelling as we did.

I would like to acknowledge all the hard work that has gone into making this issue of the magazine possible -- not only from our writers but also our editors and graphic designers. Most importantly, thank you to our readers for reading, sharing, and discussing our work. The success of Stanford Politics, and of high-quality journalism more broadly, depends on you.

Daniela González Editor-in-Chief

MASTHEAD EDITOR IN CHIEF DANIELA GONZÁLEZ

MANAGING EDITOR JAKE DOW

CHIEF OF STAFF HARRISON BRONFELD

MAGAZINE DIRECTOR NATHALIE KIERSZNOWSKI

SENIOR EDITORS EMILY KATZ JULIAN WATROUS COPY EDTORS NATHAN LEE REBECCA SMALBACH

CHIEF FINANCIAL OFFICER LANDON ELLINGSON

GRAPHIC DESIGN EMILY O’NEAL

ASSISTANT EDITORS ALLIE DOW SIERRA MACIOROWSKI COPY EDTORS NICHOLAS WELCH AMBER YANG

1

CONTENTS

TESTING THE PEACE

How Brexit Affects the Possibility, and Danger, of Irish Unification NATHALIE KIERSZNOWSKI

100 YEARS OF HOOVER, 60 YEARS OF CONTROVERSY

A History of Stanford’s Decades Long Debate over the Hoover Institution

08

ROXY BONAFONT, EMILY LEMMERMAN, & LUCAS RODRIGUEZ

ASIAN-AMERICA’S DIVERSITY PROBLEM

21

KYLE WANG

RURAL ENGAGEMENT THOMAS PFEIFFER

ABOUT THE AUTHORS OF THE COVER STORY Roxy Bonafont is a sophomore and prospective English major and political science minor. Her interests include modernist literature, political and ethical philosophy, and folksy music.

Emily Lemmerman is a senior studying sociology with minors in data science and African & African-American studies. Her interests are at the intersection between the ethics of algorithms and racial/ economic justice. She also likes to paint.

Lucas Rodriguez is a senior studying political science and economics. He’s interested in constitutional law and democratic and economic development, but really spends most of his time playing FIFA and scrolling through his Twitter feed.

All in-text references are cited online at stanfordpolitics.org.

Cover image: Stanford University A Stanford Politics is a student publication at Stanford University. All views expressed in the magazine are those of the authors and interviewees only and do not represent the views of Stanford University. Copyright © 2018 by Stanford Political Journal. All rights reserved. No original article or portion herein is to be reproduced or adapted to other works without the expressed written consent of the editor of Stanford Politics.

2

03

25

Testing the Peace HOW BREXIT AFFECTS THE POSSIBILITY, AND DANGER, OF IRISH UNIFICATION

NATHALIE KIERSZNOWKI

NORTHERN IRELAND

D

uring the late twentieth century, Northern Ireland underwent a period of ethno-nationalist conflict known as The Troubles. Violence continually erupted between Catholic Republicans, who wanted Northern Ireland to reunify with Ireland, and Protestant Unionists, who wanted the region to remain in the UK. Throughout three decades, guerilla warfare-style fighting caused the deaths of nearly 3,500 citizens. The opposing groups finally reached a peace treaty, known as the Belfast Agreement, in 1998.

While peace has existed in the region since the treaty, Brexit threatens to throw Northern Ireland back into times of trouble.

Two decades have passed since the Belfast Agreement, yet Northern Ireland remains culturally and politically divided. Monuments like Belfast’s “peace walls” immortalize the region’s violent past. Twenty-one miles long, these walls continue to divide the city’s Catholic Nationalist and Protestant Unionist populations. These barriers—erected in 1969 in attempts to subdue growing political and religious conflict—have defined the city for over half a century. This legacy of division can be observed throughout Belfast: Irish history museums, Gaelic signs, socialist murals, and Irish flags decorate Falls Road, a predominantly Catholic region of the city. One mile north across the peace wall lies Shankhill Road, housing mostly Protestant citizens who frequent pubs like “The Royal Bar.” The vivid contrast between these two populations is tangible.

Because of this stark cultural divide, talks of Irish unification have long remained dormant. Brexit has recently revived the possibility of a unified Ireland. As the UK prepares to leave the European Union, new trade restrictions have complicated its political relationship with Northern Ireland—Brexit will soon force North-

ern Ireland to adhere to non-EU trade policies. While seemingly mundane, these new trade regulations leave Northern Ireland in a “catch-22” situation. If it were to leave the EU, Northern Ireland must either impose a harder border with Ireland or create a “sea border” with Britain. Both of these solutions have proven unpopular with Northern Irish residents—leaving a third option: Irish reunification.

Brexit negotiations have created a historic and unprecedented moment for Ireland to unite. Shifting public sentiments, failed solutions to border issues, and overwhelming support for EU membership signal a possible unified future for Ireland. Still, the road to reunification is precarious. A large majority of Unionists still vehemently support Northern Irish membership with the UK. Although Brexit pushes Northern Ireland towards a possible unification vote, it also risks rebirthing the region’s violent past. The increasing support for a Northern Irish referendum will inevitably endanger twenty years of fragile peace.

The Consequence of Borders Northern Ireland’s present peace is largely attributed to its intentional state of ambiguity. No physical or invisible border divides Ireland and Northern Ireland. In addition, Residents of Northern Ireland can opt to hold either Irish or British citizenship. In essence, “nationalists and Unionists can live together in parallel constitutional realities.” The 1998 Peace Agreement included these provisions to emphasize the duality of the region.

Northern Ireland and Ireland’s intangible border is a relatively

Riot breaks out in Belfast, 1971.

TORFAEN CORVINE

NORTHERN IRELAND new reality. Before the Good Friday Agreement, British security forces set up physical borders and checkpoints between the two regions throughout the 1960’s and 1970’s. These security checkpoints were justifiable, as Republican and Ulster groups regularly caused violent conflict near the border. The 1998 treaty rid the country of the security borders and checkpoints. The current 500-kilometer border between Northern Ireland has over 260 crossings, with tens of thousands of people crossing through them every day. The majority of the crossings are in small towns or villages; people cross the border every day without knowing so.

New Brexit trade policies, however, make this borderless state increasingly difficult to maintain. Because Ireland is still a member of the European Union, different customs rules, regulations, and standards will soon apply in Northern Ireland. Divergences in food and agricultural standards, labor rights, and other areas will inevitably materialize between the two regions. For example, Northern Ireland will soon be able to import beef from countries with lower animal welfare and food safety standards, like the US and Australia; the Republic of Ireland, however, will continue placing a hard ban on them. Thus, problems have arisen regarding how these goods will be regulated when crossing the border. This trade issue has been central to Brexit debates for over two years: besides its obvious economic complications, it threatens to end the current ambiguous state of Northern Ireland.

A plethora of solutions has been proposed to solve Northern Ireland’s new Brexit-related difficulties. First, a border could again be imposed between Ireland and Northern Ireland. Theresa May has consistently promised to avoid a hard border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. Others, like, Conservative party leaders, have advocated for an “invisible border.” This type of border would rely on a technology solution with “highly streamlined customs arrangements.” Increased reliance on technology, combined with local trade exceptions and zero tariff trade deals for local traders, would theoretically restore the promise to maintain Northern Ireland without hard borders.

Both Dublin and the EU, however, have labeled the UK’s invisible border solution as magical thinking. As the UK diverges from EU trade policies, “Ireland will have no choice but to police the border … it will be legally obliged to do so by the EU.” The Irish government has also signaled that any increased infrastructure—new cameras and technology or the reinstatement of border patrols—will revive deeply divisive memories and border tension. If Northern Ireland follows the UK’s plans to abandon EU membership and trade policies, a new border and increased social friction seem inevitable.

Alternatively, some have suggested imposing a border between Northern Ireland and the rest of the UK. According to this plan, Northern Ireland could remain in the EU Customs Union while maintaining its political ties to the UK. The UK would then need to carve out a special status for Northern Ireland. With this solution, trade regulations between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland would remain the same, abandoning the need for a border.

Unionists, however, see the creation of a “sea border” between Northern Ireland and the rest of the UK as an extreme act of betrayal by Britain. Leaders of the Democratic Unionist Party, a pro-British group, have labeled this “all-island solution” as reckless. Nigel

Dodds, the party’s deputy leader, warned that “creating a border in the Irish Sea would be gravely destabilising to the UK government” and the region’s general peace.

Both Brexit solutions favor either Unionists or Nationalists, inevitably alienating one group in the region. Residents in Northern Ireland, therefore, remain discontent with the current state of Brexit negotiations. As a result, both Protestants and Catholics alike have begun to envision an alternative future: reunification.

The Moment for Reunification Before 1998, Northern Ireland had no legal right to reunify with Ireland. England explicitly forbade it, subsequently leading to years of violent protests and thousands of deaths during The Troubles.

The Belfast Agreement changed this law, explicitly including a provision guaranteeing residents of Northern Ireland the right to rejoin Ireland through a popular vote. This referendum never gained serious consideration in the two decades of its establishment, though: at the time of its inception, Northern Ireland was still majority Unionist, dissuading public calls for a vote.

Changing demographics, along with the recent Brexit referendum, signal a possible move toward Irish reunification. When Northern Ireland was originally carved out of Ireland, the region was 65% Protestant and 35% Catholic, guaranteeing a Unionist majority; nearly a century later, the region is 48% Protestant, 45% Catholic. While still majority Protestant, changing social patterns and immigration have nearly leveled the power balance in the region. Unionists no longer hold a clear-cut claim over the region’s future.

Brexit has also affected attitudes on reunification in Northern Ireland. Unlike England, Northern Ireland did not vote to leave the EU during the Brexit referendum. 56% of residents in the region voted to remain. After the vote, support for EU membership continued to rise. A recent poll found that 75.8% of Northern Irish believe EU standards should be maintained post-Brexit. In addition, 53% reported they “believe there [would] be a reduction in rights as a result” of leaving the EU. This desire to remain part of the EU recently resulted in skyrocketing demands for Irish passports. Uncertainty over Brexit is “driving demands for Irish passports in Northern Ireland, with some post offices running out of forms.” Applications for Irish passports increased from 53,715 in 2015 to 84,855 in 2018, a staggering 56% increase. Their actions speak loudly; the Northern Irish value their EU membership more than their British history. This new hierarchy of identity is intriguing. While extreme nationalism is on the rise throughout the rest of Europe, many in Northern Ireland are willing to forsake their national identity to maintain their European one.

Unionists are also increasingly supporting the idea of an independent, unified Ireland.. A recent BBC poll revealed that 28% of those who previously supported Northern Ireland’s place in the UK would now vote to join the Republic of Ireland. Unsurprisingly, this shift in Unionist support should almost entirely be attributed to Brexit. Data shows that, if the UK were to remain in the EU, only 28% of people in Northern Ireland would vote for a united Ireland.

5

How does Brexit affect support for unification?

28 %

If the UK were to remain in the EU, only 28% of Northern Irish residents would support unification with Ireland.

53%

Recent polling suggests that 53% of Northern Irish residents current support Irish unification (given Brexit were to take place).

In total, most recent polling suggests that 53% of Northern Irish currently support Irish unification if Brexit were to ensue. While not a dominating percentage, support for reunification has not reached this level for decades; there has never been a more opportune moment for a referendum. Republicans have seized onto this reality, using Brexit as a rallying point for Irish unification. The moment for reunification is brief and will last only as long as Brexit negotiations are in the air.

An Unstable Future The possibility of a referendum will not be a painless affair. Despite shifting public opinions and general support for EU membership, Northern Ireland is still culturally divided.

Unionists fear that Irish unification will become part of the national political conversation in “ways that it has not been since the partition of Ireland in 1921.” They believe Brexit risks unpicking the carefully, painfully worked-out solutions of the 1998 peace agreement. As a result, Unionists have become increasingly aggressive on their political stances.

A recent poll conducted by the University of Edinburgh found that “87% of [Northern Ireland]’s leave voters would see the collapse of the peace process as an acceptable price for Brexit.” Those who support Brexit—most of whom are Unionists— seem to overwhelmingly value British citizenship over peace in Northern Ireland. If a successful unification vote were to occur, large percentages of Unionists may resort to the kind of violence historically associated with The Troubles. For many Unionists, political identity ultimately remains more important than political stability.

Unionist fears over leaving the UK are not unwarranted.

Northern Ireland is not in a financially stable state. It still relies heavily on subsidies from the British government, receiving an annual subvention from Great Britain of around ten billion pounds. These subsidies are necessary, as foreign investment in infrastructure, jobs, and skills are decidedly low. The decision to leave the UK, therefore, would jeopardize Northern Ireland’s financial stability, threatening public-sector employment and health care. Unsurprisingly, then, Unionists seem prepared to take violent action to remain tied to England.

Some Republicans appear equally as willing to resort to violence to obtain their desired state. A car bomb recently exploded in January outside of a courthouse in Londonderry, a Northern Irish city directly on the border. Two members of the Irish Republican Army were later arrested for the bombing. While no casualties resulted from the incident, police reported that the bombing “was a very significant attempt to kill people.” The incident left Northern Ireland shaken, signaling a possible end to the region’s twenty years of peace.

In response to Brexit and growing regional tension, Republican political groups are emerging throughout the country.

Many of these groups, such as the socialist group Saoradh, seek to distance themselves from the UK as quickly as possible. In Saoradh’s constitution, the group encourage their fellow Irish men to “fight back against” imperial and capitalist nations “in the struggle to regain our sovereignty.” The groups attract a diverse range of Northern Irish, including many former members of the IRA. Saoradh leaders anticipate the construction of a hard Irish border, as they believe its erection would finally encourage the Irish people to take back their country.

RUNEMAKER

Two women walking past a mural commenorating The Troubles in Belfast.

***

Brexit has ultimately renewed political, cultural, and religious tensions throughout Northern Ireland. Because of the UK’s imminent withdrawal from the EU, Northern Ireland has never faced a more probable moment for a referendum. Uncertainty over Brexit negotiations has increased support in the region for EU membership. In addition, the idea of instituting a hard border with Ireland has proven unpopular among the majority of residents. As a result, both Catholic and Protestant support for a unified Ireland has increased; new polls, campaigns, and passport data signal the new desire to reunify with Ireland. A referendum seems more probable than ever.

A vote for unification, however, would undoubtedly threaten the region’s fragile peace. Violence seems to lurk beneath both Unionist and Republican sentiments. The majority of Unionists appear willing to return to a turbulent political state to maintain their relationship with the UK. Likewise, the revival of extreme Republican coalitions seems reminiscent of the region’s violent IRA past. As the possibility of a referendum increases, so does the likelihood of returning to The Troubles. Unification is possible, but it will not be achieved without the renewal of sectarian tension. Many politicians and academics choose to view Brexit as an economic crisis. It is equally as necessary to consider the potential for this crisis to reignite security issues previously left behind in the twentieth century.

7

100 years of

HOOVER A HISTORY OF STANFORD’S DECADES-LONG DEBATE WITH THE HOOVER INSTITUTION ROXY BONAFONT, EMILY LEMMERMAN, & LUCAS RODRIGUEZ

“W

hen I was a kid growing up on campus,” Stanford Provost Persis Drell recalls, “my memory of Hoover in 1971 or 1972 is that there were no windows in the buildings. They were all covered with plywood because the student demonstrators at that time would throw rocks through windows.”

Since then, she says, the relationship between Stanford and Hoover has changed “really pretty dramatically.” She largely attributes the changes to the relationship to John Raisian, who was the director of Hoover between 1989 and 2015, and ushered in the practice of joint appointments between the Hoover Institution and Stanford, bringing the Hoover Institution “much closer,” according to Drell. These changes—both in campus political climate among undergraduates, as well as in the relationship between the Hoover Institution and the University—are underscored by near-constant controversy about the role of Hoover on campus.

The Hoover Institution turns one hundred years old in 2019. Since its founding, it has grown from an archive housed within the Stanford libraries to a national policy think tank with 191 fellows and its own board of overseers. Hoover is part of Stanford University, but is governed by a different structure than individual schools within the University. Though Hoover Fellows are not faculty, a majority of senior fellows at Hoover are jointly appointed to academic departments.

Both in 1969 and in 2003, students have protested Hoover as part of antiwar movements. They have marched, thrown rocks, and even burned the likeness of a former director of the Institution. In 2018, campus controversy surrounded Hoover with regard to leaked emails by senior fellow Niall Ferguson, which encouraged undergraduate conservative activists to conduct “opposition research” against specific liberal undergraduates as strategic actions surrounding the Cardinal Conversations lecture series steering committee.

Most recently, campus media on the Hoover Institution has been focused on Thomas Gilligan, director of

10

the Hoover Institution’s presentation on the “mission and purpose” of the Hoover Institution, the relationship between the University and the Hoover Institution, and future plans for Hoover at a Faculty Senate meeting on February 7, 2019. Director Gilligan described the founding of Hoover as an archive and library, before going on to describe the think tank as a research institution with an emphasis on policy related to economic growth, national security, and democratic governance.

Professors across diverse academic fields at Stanford responded immediately to the presentation. Civil and Environmental Engineering professor John Dabiri brought up the issue of low representation of women among Hoover senior fellows, while Professor Ken Taylor of the Philosophy Department asked for clarification on the ideological nature of the language summarizing the goals of the Hoover Institution—particularly, the inclusion of the phrase, “Limited government intrusion into the lives of individuals.” Professor David Palumbo-Liu of the Comparative Literature Department read a statement on behalf of more than a dozen senior faculty members at Stanford which emphasized that “threats and plots against our students cannot be tolerated,” referencing controversial email exchanges between Hoover senior fellow Niall Ferguson and undergraduates.

While the relationship between Hoover and Stanford is a source of discussion today, this is not, by any means, the first time. Ph.D. student Calvin Cheung-Miaw ‘03 wrote in a recent letter to the editor of the Stanford Daily that the discussion gave him a “sense of deja vu.”

Cheung-Miaw, who was involved as a student organizer in the 2003 protests surrounding the Hoover Institution, cites a 2003 Daily opinion article which he co-wrote, stating a student demand that Hoover change its mission statement. In some senses, this is the same debate happening today, and which has been happening for the last sixty years. Yet, in other crucial ways, because of the national debate on free speech on college campuses, the discussion is profoundly different.

Hoover

Hoover’s Beginnings

T

he Hoover Institution has not always been a focal point for campus controversy. Indeed, when Herbert Hoover first conceived of the Institution in 1919, he did not envision the public policy think tank we know today.

In the beginning, the Institution was just meant to be a library. During World War I, Hoover worked throughout Europe on relief administration and eventually served as an advisor to President Woodrow Wilson during the Paris Peace Conference. It was during these negotiations that Hoover decided he wanted to create a collection of primary sources that could preserve the history of the Great War. He promptly sent a telegram to then–Stanford President Ray Lyman Wilbur expressing interest in partnering with the University on the project and committed $50,000 of his own money to the school if they would assist him. Wilbur agreed to the proposal, and the Hoover War Collection was born. In 1921, the first shipment of primary source materials collected by Hoover and his team of Stanford History professors arrived on campus. One year later, the doors to the Hoover War Library opened to the Stanford community.

Over the next fifteen years, Stanford affiliates searched throughout Europe for governmental documents, newspapers, propaganda posters, and periodicals that could be added to the Collection. By 1938, the Collection had grown so large that Hoover and the University drew up plans for a new tower that could serve as its primary administrative hub and house its expanded collections. To reflect this expanding scope of the Collection, Hoover and the University renamed it to the Hoover Library on War, Revolution, and Peace. When World War II broke out, Hoover sent the Library’s director back to Europe with a team of historians to again collect materials from the various states involved. In the midst of this second collection effort, the construction on Hoover Tower finished. Just months later, the tower was dedicated to Hoover and his library as part of the University’s fiftieth-anniversary celebration. During the ceremonies, Hoover committed the Tower and Library to the pursuit of peace, stating that his Library’s records were meant to

“stand as a challenge to those who promote war … [and] attract those who search for peace.”

Over the subsequent decade, the Library amassed one of the most impressive private collections in the world, expanding beyond just the two World Wars to encompass all events related to the study of war, revolution, and peace. It assembled the largest collection on the Russian Revolution of 1918 while also beginning a collection on the Chinese Civil War. Naturally, scholars from around the country flocked to Stanford’s now-iconic Hoover Tower to take advantage of its invaluable resources. The presence of so many scholars naturally made research a larger part of the Library’s work.

Accordingly, in 1948 it was once again renamed to the name it currently holds: the Hoover Institution on War, Revolution, and Peace (colloquially known as the Hoover Institution). Nevertheless, as a 1972 Daily story put it, the Hoover “Institution” of the 1950s was still considered by many on campus to be “little more than another University department.”

A CRITICAL JUNCTURE

B

y the end of the 1950s, the Hoover Institution was in “organizational and financial shambles,” as The New York Times described. Despite enjoying such early success in collecting archival materials, donations to the Institution were drying up. To make matters worse, Hoover’s director had just retired, leaving the Institution with a budget of under $400,000 and no director to spearhead a revitalizing fundraising effort. The Daily recounted the situation well in 1967 when it wrote that the 1959 Hoover Institution was “going nowhere.”

Amidst these struggles, professors and University administrators suggested getting rid of the Hoover Institution entirely. They believed the University could simply merge Hoover’s collections with its own library system, where financial donations would presumably not be as much of an issue. At that point in time, the Institution did not appear to have a clear purpose aside from collecting materials related to the study of war, revolution, and peace—a function that could plausibly be easily absorbed by

the University’s library system. To Herbert Hoover, however, such an outcome was unacceptable. Consequently, he quickly undertook a series of actions that would set his namesake Institution down an entirely new historical path, one that would put it at the center of campus controversy for the next sixty years.

First, in May of 1959, Hoover met with the Stanford Board of Trustees to properly detail the Institution’s legal and logistical relationship to the University. These meetings resulted in a resolution (agreed upon and signed by the Board) that specified, for the first time, the purposes, management, and policies of the Hoover Institution. Now more, than fifty years old, this “Hoover Constitution” still largely governs the affairs of the Institution. Critically, the principles and policies laid out in this document would become the primary basis for the two criticisms that students and faculty alike have continuously leveled against the Institution over the last sixty years: (1) that Hoover is institutionally biased and threatens the academic integrity of Stanford University, and, (2) that it is unaccountable to the University community.

Charges that Hoover contains an institutional bias originate from the preface of the 1959 Hoover resolution, portions of which are now included in the Institution’s formal mission statement. Prior to drafting the resolution, the Board of Trustees asked Hoover to prepare a statement for them (the preface) reviewing the background and purposes of his library; Hoover seized this opportunity to redefine his Institution and its place both at Stanford and in the world.

With this preface, Hoover threw his library into the global ideological struggle against communism. Indeed, at times it truly reads like a Cold War call to arms.

Following a description of the Institution’s materials, Hoover proceeds to laud the social, economic, and political systems of the United States. He then argues that his library, with its massive collections on the World Wars and Communist revolutions of the early 20th century, is uniquely positioned to support the United States in the defense of its way of life. The preface’s conclusion begins by specifying the purpose and mission of the Institution:

11

HOOVER “The purpose of this Institution must be, by its research and publications, to demonstrate the evils of the doctrines of Karl Marx whether Communism, Socialism, economic materialism, or atheism—thus, to protect the American way of life from such ideologies, their conspiracies, and to reaffirm the validity of the American system.

The overall mission of this Institution is, from its records, to recall the voice ofexperience against the making of war, and by the study of these records and their publication to recall man’s endeavors to make and preserve peace and to sustain for America the safeguards of the American way of life…”

Hoover goes on to emphatically state that, “The Institution is not, and must not be, a mere library,” and that it will “constantly and dynamically point the road to peace, to personal freedom, and to the safeguards of the American system.”

As anyone can easily imagine, it is not difficult to accuse an institution whose explicit purpose is to “demonstrate the evils of the doctrines of Karl Marx” of being ideologically motivated, as many would do over the subsequent years. Perhaps in a move to avoid such criticisms, today’s Hoover webpage outlining the Institution’s mission notably cuts out the paragraph on Karl Marx’s “evils.”

Hoover’s preface turned mission statement is followed by a ten-paragraph resolution that attempts to clarify the Institution’s relationship to the University. In doing so, however, it very clearly makes the Hoover Institution much more than just “another University department.”

The resolution formally begins in its third paragraph, when it introduces the Hoover Institution on War, Revolution, and Peace as “an independent Institution within the frame of Stanford University.”

To this day, many people would have a hard time telling someone what being “an independent institution within the frame of Stanford University” entails for both Hoover and Stanford—it’s a characterization unique to the Hoover Institution and

with no immediate, discernible meaning.

Nevertheless, the privileges the Institution enjoys as “an independent institution within the frame of Stanford University” have been a source of constant debate over the years due to the degree of independence they grant the Institution.

Unlike Academic Departments, who report to their respective school deans and the Provost, the Director of the Hoover Institution reports directly to the President of the University and the Board of Trustees. The resolution gives the Director the power to recommend potential fellow appointments, promotions, and budgets to the President who passes them along to the Board, “with no reference to any faculty committees.”

Similarly, the resolution states that any new Director must first be recommended by the President to the Board of Trustees

this clause gives the University a check on the Institution, noting how the University would not accept any donations that “have any strings attached.” That being said, the clause also benefits Hoover because it grants the Institution the same tax-exempt status enjoyed by the University, making fundraising much easier.

Still, the degree of autonomy afforded to the Hoover Institution in its hiring and firing practices at an academic institution like Stanford has continuously troubled faculty members, especially in the 1960s, when the new director began significantly expanding the reach of the revitalized Institution.

Though the 1959 resolution laid the seeds for controversy, the Hoover Institution largely remained outside the campus spotlight until the appointment of W. Glenn Campbell as its new director. Immediately following the signing of the 1959 resolution, Hoover got to work searching for an individual he could trust to lead the Institution in the new direction he outlined in the mission statement. Although the Board of Trustees created a committee of faculty and administrators to search for a new director, Hoover took matters into his own hands and found selected W. Glenn Campbell. Campbell was an unabashed conservative. Prior to joining Hoover, he worked as research director at the US Chamber of Commerce and then at the American Enterprise Institute. When Campbell passed away in 2001, The New York Times credited him with turning the Hoover Institution into “one of the world’s most influential conservative think tanks.” Hoover found the perfect man in Campbell to realize the vision he had outlined in the resolution’s preface.

As one Hoover fellow later remarked, when Campbell took over the Institution, “it was nothing.” Nevertheless, Campbell was able to expertly capitalize on the Institution’s newfound independence and purpose to quickly turn that nothing into something quite notable. Almost immediately after arriving on campus Campbell made clear that he intended to expand the Hoover Institution into “an institution for research and publication.” According to Campbell, the Institution’s research would

BY THE END OF THE 1950S, THE HOOVER INSTITUTION WAS IN “ORGANIZATIONAL AND FINANCIAL SHAMBLES”

12

who then approve or reject that choice. The resolution bluntly states that the President’s recommendation “shall not require approval of the Advisory Board of the Academic Council of Stanford University.” As a 1972 Daily Article succinctly remarked, “the new relationship between the institution and the university had defined the faculty out of the picture,” upsetting many professors in the process.

In subsequent sections the resolution does place some limits on the autonomy it grants the Institution in the earlier paragraphs. For example, it states that no appointments to the Hoover Institution can carry academic tenure solely by virtue of being affiliated with Hoover (though joint appointments with faculty departments are certainly possible). Once more, the resolution specifies that all donations to the Institution must be made to Stanford University in Hoover’s name. Some have suggested

STANFORD NEWS SERVICE

STANFORD UNIVERSITY ARCHIVE

Two Stanford history professors with the first batch of documents collected in 1921 for the Hoover War Library.

explicitly “portray the growth and spread of communism,” while its publications would “be designed to give aid to government policy formation.”

In order to build up the Institution’s capacity to bring in more scholars and consistently publish public-facing works, Campbell embarked on what can be characterized only as a truly impressive fundraising campaign. In his first decade alone, Campbell increased the Institution’s budget five-fold. From 1960 to 1967, he raised seven million dollars, capping off the run with the opening of the Lou Henry Hoover Building, adding significant office space for more research fellows to join the Institution. In 1967 alone, he was able to raise $1,600,000 in gifts and grants. In all, this money was largely used to publish more and more public-facing policy research that could then be used to solicit more donations. All this activity, however, did not go unnoticed; as Hoover grew in size and reach, it attracted more and more attention from members of the Stanford community, who began to view it as an anti-communist propaganda machine that did not belong at any serious University.

Initial Controversies

A

lmost as soon as the 1959 Resolution was made public, the Hoover Institution found itself in the first of many debates with the Stanford University faculty over its purpose and autonomy. Many professors were quick to point to the resolution’s preface as evidence of institutional bias within Hoover and as a threat to the University’s academic integrity. In a 1960 Daily story,

14

one History professor described the mission statement as “incompatible with the University which is dedicated to the freedom of the scholar and research for truth.” A Physics professor similarly criticized the preface: “It is alien to the discipline in which I work to start with a conclusion. The goal of research and study is to describe events and formulate and test hypotheses. If, in contrast, however, the Hoover Institution has the ‘purpose’ as described in The Daily, then I regret it.”

Ultimately, all these criticisms came together in a statement from the University’s Academic Council. In 1960 they formally asked the University to “take some action which would represent clearly and forcibly to students, faculty, and the public, the University’s commitment to freedom of inquiry.” Accordingly, the President and Board of Trustees released a joint-statement expressing their commitment to freedom of inquiry at Stanford, promising “intense” scrutiny of the Institution, and clarifying that the preface did not reflect the views of the University, but rather solely those of Herbert Hoover. Despite this response from the University, Glenn Campbell remained largely indifferent to the faculty’s opinions throughout these episodes. When asked for his thoughts on the preface he stated: “I see nothing wrong with it, do you?”

In 1967, after renewed requests from faculty to be involved in the Hoover fellow appointment process, Campbell told the Daily that he “wish[ed] they would keep their noses of my business.” Nevertheless, University officials continued to engage with faculty on the issue, not regarding Campbell’s stubbornness. For example, when Kenneth Pitzer began his tenure as University President, one of his

Hoover first orders of business was to reform the appointment process at Hoover. Together, he and Campbell released a joint statement detailing the new appointment process for non-senior fellows. Under the reform, appointments would still be made by the President, but under the recommendation of a search committee comprised of Hoover staffers and University faculty. Formally, this search committee would recommend at least two candidates to the Hoover Director. The director would then select an individual to fulfill the appointment and report both his choice and the committee’s recommendations to the President for approval. Only a few years later, the appointment process for the Director of the Hoover Institution also underwent a change that similarly involved faculty, by way of a committee, to recommend names to the President.

In spite of these changes and constant quips from faculty, Campbell was able to establish the Hoover Institution as one the nation’s preeminent, and largely anti-communist, foreign policy think tanks. Today, the Hoover Institution is perhaps better known for its domestic policy programs, but when Campbell first expanded the Institution’s reach in the 1960s, he did so under the backdrop of the Cold War. With anti-communist sentiments at all-time highs, it was only natural for a budding think tank like Hoover to try to specialize in containment policy, especially given the extent of its collection on the Russian Revolution (which was the largest in the world at the time). Consequently, most of the funds Campbell raised in the 1960s supported research that focused on fighting communism.

Although the Institution’s newfound influence did wonders for Campbell’s fundraising efforts, it did attract a lot of attention toward the Institution, especially with the Vietnam War’s raging abroad. In May of 1969, for example, Stanford’s famed April 3rd Movement (A3M)—which led radical anti-Vietnam War protests on campus—staged a three-day onslaught against Hoover in which it hurled rocks at and painted “graffiti” on Hoover buildings, and even burned an effigy of Campbell on the steps of Hoover Tower. A3M members were protesting in Institution’s research, which they believed members of the Nixon administration were using to form policy for the war. The protestors even suggested that Hoover fellows were regularly meeting with members of Nixon’s defense department to discuss Vietnam War strategy.

Though the extent of the Hoover Institution’s involvement in the Vietnam War was never confirmed, the protestors were right about one thing: the Hoover Institution was focusing more resources on influencing government policy, as Campbell made clear when he started as Hoover director. In particular, one episode in 1976 epitomized the transformation of Hoover from a library to a think tank trying to impact government policy.

In 1976, general budget cuts forced the Hoover Institution to lay off seven of its librarians, sparking a campus-wide conversation about the changing nature of the Institution. At the time, the Hoover Library housed one-third of all the University’s holdings and made up the largest private archive collection in the United States. Some librarians who kept their jobs after the cuts told The Daily they were worried about adequately maintaining all the collections with fewer libraries. According to a separate Daily story from the time, those Hoover staffers “best qualified to predict the

consequences of the layoffs” were “reluctant to discuss the matter [with the Daily]” out of fear of being “black-listed” by the Institution. The Institution’s administration, on the other hand, maintained that the layoffs would have “no serious repercussions” for the library.

No one was ever able to assess the layoffs’ true impact on the materials of the Hoover Archive. Even still, the fact that the librarians felt the brunt of the budget cuts prompted many to ask why Glenn Campbell had unilateral decision-making power over a library used by the entire University community. Once more, faculty members and students wondered why the Institution could not reallocate some of its other funds to the library to cover the seven librarians’ wages. Many pointed to a paragraph from the 1959 resolution stating that “the resources of the Institution in so far as available shall be devoted to the preservation and enlargement of its collections.” In response, Campbell continuously stated that he could not simply arbitrarily reallocate funds within the Institution’s budget, further emphasizing that he and his team, “worked hard” to raise millions a year for the library.

Despite Campbell’s many assertions, The Daily poignantly noted, “While Hoover library [was] feeling the crunch of … University economic policy, other areas of Hoover seem[ed] to be expanding.”

Specifically, the Hoover Institution was beginning to heavily invest, perhaps at the expense of the library, in a domestic policy research program, a pivot that would once again redefine the Institution’s place in the world.

A PIVOT TO DOMESTIC STUDIES

H

oover’s growing emphasis on domestic policy, which was evident by the mid-1970s, had “long been in the planning stages,” The Daily reported. In 1975, with a $3.5 million annual budget, the Institution’s expanding focus on domestic research was transforming Hoover into an increasingly relevant player in national policy debate. “Our work is more interesting now to the typical congressman,” Thomas Moore, then-director of the domestic studies program, told The Daily in 1979.

“I don’t think there was ever any question in the founder’s mind that domestic studies were included within the rubric of ‘war, revolution, and peace,’” Campbell said.

By 1979, Hoover’s annual budget was around $5.7 million, approximately forty percent of which went toward funding research (a proportion more than four times what it had been twenty years previous). Unsurprisingly, most of the Institution’s domestic policy work had a decidedly conservative bend: high-profile fellows like Nobel Prize–winning economist Milton Friedman set a laissez-faire tone that few other fellows strayed far from; Moore even characterized the staff as largely “liberal in the 19th century sense.”

Although Moore also insisted that Hoover’s fellows were not “monolithic,” the evident ideological skew once again drew criticism of the Institution’s academic merit and hiring practices. Some faculty members alleged that Hoover preferentially appointed conservative fellows, an evergreen critique that the Institution would spend the next several decades denying. A former visiting fellow

15

Cover of The Stanford Daily Magazine in 1979.

STANFORD NEWS SERVICE

An A3M meeting.

called the Institution’s political slant “outrageous” in an anonymous interview with The Daily.

“The Hoover Institution is an amalgam of free-market economists in the domestic situation and cold warriors on the international side,” the former fellow said, dismissing its members as largely “third-rate.” On the persistent allegations of bias that dog the institution, the anonymous source stated simply, “Hoover has not changed.”

Despite the hostility Hoover faced, the Institution’s reputation and relevance were surging on the national stage. Ronald Reagan was headed to the White House, and he was taking the Hoover Institution with him.

Hoover and REAGAN

R

eagan’s ties to the Hoover Institution can be traced back to 1975 when, at the end of his tenure as governor of California, he was appointed the first honorary fellow of the Institution, after which he donated his gubernatorial papers to the library. Even before that, Reagan enjoyed a friendly relationship with Glenn Campbell,

whom he had appointed to serve as a Regent of the University of California system in the 1960s. For his presidential bid in 1980, Reagan drew heavily from Hoover’s arsenal of right-wing policy researchers, enlisting at least thirteen Hoover fellows to aid his campaign in various capacities—including one senior fellow who was brought on as the candidate’s chief domestic advisor.

In the wake of the 1980 election, the Los Angeles Times noted Reagan’s close connection with “the 61-year-old think tank that often has been described as a conservative government-in-exile.” Now that Reagan was the president-elect, “the exile [was] over.” At a White House reception honoring the Hoover Board of Overseers shortly before his 1981 inauguration, Reagan said he “called on more people from the [Hoover] Institution than from any other institution.”

The Hoover Institution “built the knowledge base that made the changes now taking place in Washington possible,” the president-elect said, and, as quoted in The New York Times, he praised the Institution as “the brightest star in a small constellation of conservative think tanks.” When later publishing Reagan’s

remarks, the Institution would be careful to remove the word “conservative” from his glowing statement.

In 1981, over thirty current or former Hoover fellows had been appointed to the Reagan administration, including as the President’s Assistant for National Security Affairs and Assistant for Policy Development. During this period, a sign was posted on the Institution’s door that read, “Will the last one to leave for Washington please turn out the lights?”

After two decades of wildly successful fundraising and institutional growth, Campbell saw Hoover’s relationship with Reagan as “another route to fame and fortune,” one fellow told the Los Angeles Times. The Institution’s annual reports emphasized its role in the administration, featuring numerous photos of the president and claiming credit for much of his policy, including the inception of what later became known as “Reaganomics.”

“It is a source of immense pride to know that the ideas developed by scholars at the Hoover Institution have greatly influenced the new policy agenda,” Campbell wrote in

17

HOOVER the 1986 annual report.

But Campbell’s sentiment was not uniformly shared on the surrounding campus, and the Institution’s rise to national prominence triggered what is arguably the most turbulent decade in the lengthy history of strained relations between Stanford and its resident think tank.

“The problem arises from the fact that Hoover has a mission,” John Manley, now an emeritus professor of political science, wrote in a 1983 memo to his department. “It is a political organization within the University.”

The Hoover Institution enjoys a “hazy, quasi-independent status” within the University, The Daily noted, which, among other things, allows the Institution’s director to report directly to the Stanford President (instead of to the Provost, as is the norm for academic department heads) and gives the Institution freedom to control its own funding. Hoover’s hiring and firing practices are also not subject to nearly the same administrative oversight and rigorous appointment process as academic departments. As was typical in the 1960s, faculty complaints about Hoover generally revolved around this unique position the Institution holds at Stanford, which critics argued was inappropriately exploited by the think tank for partisan interests. In a 1983 letter to his department, then–English professor Ronald Rebholz asserted that the Hoover Institution “uses its relationship with the University and many of its faculty to enhance its prestige and respectability and thereby make its political advocacy more effective.”

The concern gained traction, and a faculty petition calling for the Board of Trustees to investigate Hoover’s alleged partisanship landed on the floor of the Academic Senate in 1983. Spearheaded by Manley and Rebholz, the petition claimed that “the existence of a partisan organization, whether liberal or conservative, within the University raises grave questions concerning academic independence,” and that “the legitimacy and influence of Hoover Institution and the causes for which it stands are immeasurably enhanced by sharing in the prestige of a great University”—almost echoing the Academic Council’s 1960 petition word for word.

This 1983 petition, which garnered eighty-four signatures, called Hoover a “two-tiered” institution with an “inner core” of conservative research fellows and an “outer ring” of senior fellows, largely populated by Stanford professors and courtesy appointments, who “add to Hoover’s prestige.”

Critics specifically pointed to the rise in joint appointments of faculty members to fellowship positions at the Institution as a conscious effort to diversify Hoover and improve its reputation. An anonymous Stanford professor who held a joint appointment in the 1970s told The Daily that Hoover had been a “paranoid institution” while he worked there, as he was afraid of increased constraints from the University. “Hoover is trying to buy respectability,” the professor said, “but the price they have to pay is greater diversity.”

Alexander Dallin, then a professor of history at Stanford and a for-

mer senior Hoover fellow, told The Daily that some faculty believed they could influence Hoover by getting tenured professors appointed as fellows. “I have come to believe that will not work; you’ll never change the inner sanctum of conservative fellows at Hoover,” Dallin said.

The faculty petition was followed by a student petition, signed by over 1,500 members of the Stanford community, which also called for a Board of Trustees inquiry into the Hoover Institution.

The Hoover Institution continued to deny allegations of partisan bias. John Moore, then the associate director of the Institution, told The Daily that Hoover’s “range of views is better-balanced than the rest of the University.” Several Hoover fellows circulated a letter that claimed “greed, envy, and political partisanship” motivated the criticism.

Tensions worsened as the administration and Hoover discussed bringing the Reagan presidential library and an associated center for public affairs to Stanford, a project that appears to have originated in a 1981 memo Campbell wrote inviting Reagan to “have [his] Presidential Library on the Stanford campus,” a request which the administration later publicly endorsed. While the Stanford community grappled with the academic value of possessing the then-President Reagan’s papers versus the partisan implications of becoming further tied to a politically divisive conservative figure who had never been a student or professor on campus, some began to jokingly refer to Stanford as Ronald Reagan University. In the 1986 Hoover annual report, Campbell wrote that the University could “boast” of its “Reagan connection,” which the Faculty Senate unanimously criticized.

After several years of false starts and controversy, during which the University determined it would accept a Reagan library but not a public affairs center, the Reagan Presidential Foundation ultimately withdrew its interest in Stanford’s campus. But it remained evident that the Hoover Institution, whose tower is the defining landmark on campus, had the power to dramatically and even physically shape Stanford in its interest and its image.

There was, across the board, some degree of consensus that the relationship between Stanford and Hoover had to change. But visions of that change were conflicted. Manley and Rebholz campaigned for the University to either sever all ties with Hoover or bring the Institution entirely under Stanford’s control. Meanwhile, a committee assembled by then-President Donald Kennedy called instead for the University to strengthen its relationship with Hoover, primarily through joint appointments. The committee released a report identifying institutional, rather than political, factors as the primary source of friction: “The anomalous relationship of the Hoover Institution to the University—at the same time a part of Stanford but legally and operationally enjoying almost complete and permanent autonomy—makes some conflict practically inevitable,” the report argued.

In 1985, the Faculty Senate formally recommended that Hoover be brought under greater academic control, an idea Hoover flatly reject-

“WILL THE LAST ONE TO LEAVE FOR WASHINGTON PLEASE TURN OUT THE LIGHTS?”

18

Hoover ed; Campbell criticized the recommendations for trying to “destroy the unique and independent status of the Hoover Institution.” The prospect of a divorce between the two entities seemed increasingly unlikely as well: in 1987, Kennedy said that he could not “envision a situation under which the Board of Trustees… should consider a divorce that would spin those extraordinary academic assets off of this University.”

Rebholz alleged that Stanford’s unwillingness to separate from Hoover was financially motivated and founded in a fear of “alienating” major donors that fund both the University and the think tank, such as Hewlett-Packard. “There are no principles involved, only cash,” he said.

Ultimately, despite continual objections from professors like Rebholz and Manley, the move to better integrate Stanford and Hoover won out. Campbell made a rare public appearance in 1988 to dismiss his critics and express optimism in a “great future” built by cooperation between the University and his institution. Ironically, the Stanford Board of Trustees would unanimously decide a month later that Campbell must step down from his position as director when he turned sixty-five the next year. The request was in line with the expected retirement age for directors of the Institution and senior Stanford administrators, but some Hoover fellows criticized the decision as a sign of “hostility.” Campbell briefly toyed with the idea of turning the controversy into a legal battle, but ultimately agreed to step down in 1989.

After a decade of especially tense relations, Campbell’s exit was interpreted by many as an end of an era, and perhaps an indication that the years of institutional strife and controversy were finally coming to an end. Plans to establish an investigation into the Hoover Institution, which Manley resurrected once more in the late 1980s, were nixed by the Faculty Senate. Immediately upon the arrival of acting director John Raisian at the beginning of the 1989 academic year, The Daily published a starry-eyed front-page assertion of a “sudden shift in attitudes” regarding Hoover that suggested that “the two institutions might be on a course for more cooperation.”

“Since Raisian took over just six weeks ago, University officials are beginning to see Hoover more as a resource to complement Stanford rather than to compete with it,” the article claimed.

Raisian, whom The Daily noted was “widely regarded as an administrative moderate,” took over as the permanent director the following year, and set the tone for a decade of relative stability. Manley continued to voice the same concerns he always had, arguing that Raisian’s being less outspoken than his predecessor did not impact Hoover’s mission—but his protests fell on increasingly deaf ears: the early 1990s were marked by efforts to integrate Hoover and Stanford, including the appointment of Raisian to the University Cabinet; Hoover demonstrated interest in becoming more involved with the student body, and began interacting with the Stanford in Washington program. Additionally, Kennedy stated, “There will be more, rather than fewer, joint appointments, and there will be more, rather than less, interactions with Hoover.”

Manley interpreted the improving relationship as a lull in an inevitably cyclical conflict. “At the moment, we’re waiting for the next outbreak,” he said.

That outbreak came at the turn of the century, as the Hoover In-

stitution once again became entangled in a presidential campaign— this time, that of George W. Bush, whose exploratory committee read “like a laundry list of current and past Hoover Institution fellows,” The Daily observed. Following the blueprint of the 1960s and 1980s, campus opinion turned against the institution once more, criticizing its hiring practices and its involvement in the formulation of Bush administration policy. Just as A3M did in 1969, Student protestors marched on Hoover Tower in 2003 in an anti-war demonstration that also expressed broader concerns about conservative policy. The protestors taped petitions to the door of the Hoover Institution that called for the University to cut ties with the Institution if it did not change its hiring policy. John Hennessy, then the University president, dismissed their demands.

In 2003, the Faculty Senate questioned Raisian (for the first time in thirteen years) regarding Hoover’s hiring practices. Raisian, just as Campbell did before him, denied allegations that there was any ideological bias in the appointment of fellows. “We are not trying to lobby Congress,” he said. “We are a manufacturer of ideas.”

In the years that followed, Hoover would occasionally find itself subject to scrutiny, but never with the same intensity as it faced in the 1960s or 1980s. When the Institution announced in 2007 that Donald Rumsfeld, former Secretary of Defense under Gerald Ford and George W. Bush, was being named a distinguished visiting fellow, some students and faculty once again called for Stanford to cut ties with Hoover. But Rebholz told The Daily that the “students were much more involved” in the Reagan Library debate twenty years previous. And in 2010, The Daily editorial board called for the Hoover Institution to denounce comments made by senior fellow Victor Davis Hanson Ph.D. ‘80. Hanson posted a critique of political discourse at American universities on a blog, writing, “Latin Americans add an accent and a trill and they become victimized Chicanos; one-half African Americans claim they are more people of color than much darker Punjabis; the children of Asian optometrists seek minority and victim status.” The editorial board posed the remarks as providing “the Hoover Institution the perfect opportunity to clarify its role in American politics. Purposeful academic research or derisive, unfounded cheap shots: which will it be?” Hanson never retracted or edited his writing, and this past February, he was present at a “Pizza and Policy” dinner hosted by the Stanford Hoover Society, a new student group that seeks to better connect undergraduates to the Hoover Institution.

ECHOES TO THE PRESENT

T

his history - of a fraught relationship between Stanford and Hoover – may seem to be replicated in the present. The recent statement, signed by over a dozen senior faculty members at Stanford, which was presented at the February 7th faculty meeting and printed in the Daily on February 8th, echoes previous concerns about the Hoover Institution being a part of an academic institution, while also having a mission statement which suggests it is an institution with a distinct ideological leaning.

On the other hand, Professor David Palumbo-Liu, a member of

19

STANFORD UNIVERSITY ARCHIVE

Hoover Tower.

the Campus Anti-fascist Network who has received attention from the conservative media in the past, and is a signatory of the faculty statement on Hoover, thinks that there are two things that make the debates about Hoover at Stanford different in 2019 than in the past.

First, he says, is the shifting nature of conservatism both nationwide, and at Hoover - towards not only fiscal conservatism, but cultural and social conservatism. For Palumbo-Liu, the new concern, given shifts in American conservatism, is that Hoover now hosts fellows and speakers who are “avidly anti-feminist, anti-racial equality, and with a clear homophobic legacy.” This, he argues, means that certain students are hurt by this socially conservative rhetoric, and a different kind of potential harm towards students exists now than it did in the past. It is “cruel,” he says, to permit former Hoover fellows like Dinesh D’Souza to speak on campus, and to “intimidate” students.

Provost Drell, on the other hand, who launched the Cardinal Conversations program, with Niall Ferguson of the Hoover Institution as one of two leaders of the program, sees having Hoover on campus as an “asset” to Stanford. “I’m a big believer in having a diversity of viewpoints on campus,” she says. In the new iteration of Cardinal Conversations, she has appointed Gilligan to be one of three advisors, alongside faculty members Deborah Rhode and Claude Steele. Drell emphasizes that she chose a representative from Hoover

20

each time in order for Cardinal Conversations to have greater connections to a diversity of speakers, including political speakers “from both sides of the aisle.”

Second, he says, is the desire of this particular administration at Stanford to move closer to Hoover. “This administration– Drell and MTL – don’t have the same sense of separateness” with the Hoover Institution as past University administrations, he says. “They believe the Hoover can be integrated– and should be.” However, for Palumbo-Liu, the idea that Hoover fellows could “come and blend in” on campus “is a fantasy.” He sees the combination of a changing conservative rhetoric, combined with the desire of Stanford administration to work more closely than ever with Hoover, as creating a marked difference in how the current debates about the relationship between Hoover and Stanford should be received.

Provost Persis Drell told Stanford Politics she thinks that “there is an opportunity to increase the relationship” between Hoover and Stanford to “continue on the trajectory set by John Raisian and Tom Gilligan.” She emphasizes that this would be a “good thing.”

She particularly looks forward to initiatives by Hoover to have mid-career and younger fellows at Hoover, as well as an increase in joint appointments between Stanford academic departments and the Hoover Institution, in order to bring the two bodies closer together. Thus, while Palumbo-Liu’s assertion that the current administration at Stanford hope

to work more closely with the Hoover Institution is true, his account that this is a break with the past does not square with the historical account captured by The Daily – which is that Stanford and Hoover have been on this path towards more collaboration at least since John Raisian’s appointment nearly 3 decades ago, in 1989.

If the relationship between Stanford and Hoover is indeed continuing on a trajectory towards more cooperation, while the Hoover Institution maintains its commitment to a resolution that explicitly includes a purpose of being against certain political ideologies and for others – it is likely that the same debate about the place of Hoover on Stanford’s campus will only continue. Director Gilligan confirmed in a written statement to Stanford Politics that “Herbert Hoover’s 1959 statement to the Board of Trustees of Stanford University on the purpose and scope of the Hoover Institution continues to guide and define our mission.” This resolution includes such phrases defining the purpose of the Hoover Institution as “demonstrate the evils of the doctrines of Karl Marx whether Communism, Socialism, economic materialism, or atheism” through research and publication. While this language is not currently within the mission statement published by Hoover on its’ website, so long as the Hoover Institution continues to define itself by such statements, it seems that the conflict between many Stanford students and faculty and the Hoover Institution will not evolve, and will only continue.

asian-america’s diversity problem KYLE WANG

I

n 1982, Detroit’s automobile industry had begun to feel the effects of increased globalization. Imports of Japanese automobiles posed a legitimate threat to the market dominance of the Big Three, and resentful workers blamed Japanese imports on the decline. That June, two automobile workers—Michael Nitz and his stepfather, Ronald Ebens—were laid off. Angry, and perhaps seeking some form of vindication, Nitz and Ebens wandered into a club one night where they spotted Vincent Chin, a young draftsman who was celebrating his birthday party with his friends. A fight broke out after Ebens allegedly shouted “It’s because of you motherfuckers that we’re out of work!” and both parties were thrown out of the bar.

Ebens and Nitz spent the next few hours driving aimlessly around the suburbs of Detroit, hoping that they would stumble upon a fight. They found Chin again at a McDonald’s, where they forcibly dragged him outside and beat him until he fell unconscious. Chin died four days later from the injuries—less than a week before he was to be married.

The death of Vincent Chin proved to be a painful reminder of the perceived uniformity of Asian-America—even though Asian-Americans are a remarkably diverse group of individuals, they are often treated as a political monolith. Chin’s attackers had not cared that he was Chinese and not Japanese, or that his work was only tangentially related to the automobile industry.

They had seen the color of his skin, and that was enough for them.

Even the term “Asian-American” itself implies a certain oneness among all individuals who trace their roots back to the Asian subcontinent: it suggests that Asian-Americans are culturally similar enough to be grouped together even if their ethnic roots are radically different, a premise which Chin’s attackers wholeheartedly seemed to accept. But as historian Paul Spickard explains, the term “Asian-American” actually arose during the Civil Rights movement with the best of intentions. It was coined by activist and historian Yuji Ichioka in an attempt to mimic the success of the Black Power movement in establishing a collective identity for Asian-Americans. By embracing their shared roots as immigrants from a distant, exotic land, Ichioka reasoned, Asian-Americans could collectively issue demands that would be too vocal for politicians to ignore.

And, for a time, Ichioka was right. Through the late 1960s to mid 1970s, Asian-Americans wielded considerable political clout in the United States. Some were central figures in anti-war and anti-imperialist movements; others began producing art, music, and literature

22

with a newfound emphasis on exploring their cultural heritage. Pan-Asianism began to emerge as a powerful—if artificially constructed—ethnic identity.

The 1980s marked a radical shift away from this convergence of identity. Throughout the 1980s, a new wave of Asian immigrants continually arrived at America’s doorstep: from 1980 to 1988, data from the U.S. Census Bureau indicate that the total population of individuals who identified as “Asian-American” spiked by 70 percent. Unlike many of their Asian-American counterparts who had come to America long before, however, these individuals were first-generation immigrants.

They found themselves in a political culture whose values differed radically from those of the countries in which they had been raised, and their primary concerns were economic—not political. Consequently, even though the label “Asian-American” remained, the identities of the individuals who constituted Asian-America began to change. Whereas the Asian-Americans before the 1980s had been almost-uniformly Japanese and Chinese, the immigrants of the 1980s onward represented a far more diverse picture of East and Southeast Asia.

Despite this growing diversity, however, Asian-American political organizing has remained stubbornly fixated on the interests of an increasingly small ethnic subgroup of Asian-Americana. The Harvard lawsuit serves as a perfect example of this. Though the plaintiffs—Students for Fair Admissions—have rightfully argued that Harvard often holds its Asian-American applicants to an unfairly stringent standard, they have drawn the incorrect conclusion that affirmative action policies are wholly harmful for all of Asian-America. Part of this misrepresentation can be explained by the demographics of the plaintiffs, many of whom come from more affluent backgrounds. Among the most vocal opponents of Harvard’s affirmative are Chinese-, Japanese-, and Korean-Americans, ethnic groups which are comparatively far more privileged than much of Asian-America.

And by claiming to speak for all of Asian-America in their efforts to reject affirmative action, these individuals have failed to recognize that other, less-privileged Asian-Americans might actually benefit from such policies.

A common argument made by groups such as Students for Fair Admissions is that affirmative action undercuts the hard work of many Asian-American students throughout their high school years. At a talk sponsored by Students for Fair Admissions which I attended last year, one riled-up attendee went as far as to say that the criterion of “hard work” was being replaced by one of “color”—his remarks were, incidentally, met with a

DIVERSITY standing ovation. Individuals like that attendee have failed to realize is unimportant—it does admittedly shed light on the Model Miseveral things. First, their definition of “hard work” is unrealistically nority myth—but its final mission of repealing affirmative action narrow. For example, many lower-income minorities underperform highlights Asian-America’s racial and economic stratification. That on standardized tests because they don’t have access to the same ac- the more privileged Asian-Americans have failed to offer even the ademic resources as their more-privileged peers—not because they slightest concession that other lower-income Asian-Americans don’t work as hard. could benefit from affirmative action offers damning proof of the Perhaps more pernicious, however, is the premise lying behind limits of the label “Asian-American.” For now, the label appears to Asian-America’s purported rejection of affirmative action. The apply exclusively to those who come from wealthier, more affluvery concept that Asian-Americans are hurt by affirmative action ent backgrounds—everyone else, it would seem, just isn’t “Asian” in college admissions implies that all Asian-Americans share the enough. same experience in applying for college—an implication which is Unfortunately, history offers few immediate solutions to the not only incorrect but dangerous because it feeds into the Model problems of labeling and misrepresentation. After all, the label Minority myth. Often, Asian-Americans have been caricatured as a “Asian-American” itself was constructed with the best of intenso-called “Model Minority,” a group whose very existence disproves tions: to generate a pan-ethnic, Pan-Asian collective movement that claims that other ethnic minorities still suffer from society-wide ra- would bring attention to an oppressed, underrepresented minority. cial biases. If Asian-Americans can achieve financial success with- But since the 1980s, the term “Asian-American” has grown so broad out policies such as affirmative action, the reasoning goes, then any as to be virtually meaningless. Even if the individuals who called minority can do the same. And, based on the myth’s logic, any low- themselves Asian-American in the 1960s and 1970s shared general er-income minorities who fail to rise up are therefore lazy and unin- inklings of a collective cultural history, the term “Asian-American” is telligent: they fail not because of systemic barriers but because they far too broad nowadays for any such history to exist. More troubling didn’t try hard enough. The Model Minority myth falls short on two is the fact that lower-income ethnic subgroups of Asian-America fronts. First, the claim that Asian-Amerare often lumped together under the icans have uniformly achieved financial broad “Asian-American” label, only to success is false—to give just one examsee the issues which afflict them most The very concept that ple, the number of Hmong-Americans go almost entirely unnoticed.

Asian-Americans are hurt living below the federal poverty line is One intuitive solution is to increase two times higher than the national averthe visibility of such underrepresentby affirmative action in age. To claim that all Asian-Americans ed minorities within Asian-American college admissions implies are hurt by affirmative action policies, solidarity movements. In theory, imthat all Asian-Americans therefore, is to fail to recognize that not proving the visibility of such individuals all Asians share the same experiences could help shed light on Asian-Amerishare the same experience as American citizens. Second, acceptca’s true diversity, while preserving the in applying for college. ing the Model Minority myth distances solidarity necessary to compel political Asian-Americans from any collective action. And yet implementing this solusolidarity with other racial minorities. tion effectively is surprisingly difficult: In the case of the Harvard lawsuit, the racial undertones of the an- if done incorrectly, the previously-underrepresented minorities will ti-affirmative action argument are clear: the rhetoric suggests that become little more than racial tokens whose existences will undeniall Asian-Americans work hard and therefore deserve to attend elite ably be acknowledged but whose concerns still go largely unnoticed. universities; their less privileged peers, who may have taken fewMoreover, the aforementioned solution still feeds into the broader AP classes or scored lower on the SATs, by extension, just didn’t er myth that all Asians are alike—a myth whose falsity undermines “work hard” enough. And because this rhetoric grounded in a false the theory behind using the label “Asian-American” at all. While and disturbing caricature of other PoCs as lazy and unintelligent, it some East Asian countries do share certain broad cultural similaronly serves to further divide Asian-Americans from other minori- ities, Asian-America is far too diverse for any such generalizations ties in America. to be made. To give one example, labeling individuals of Filipino, To make matters worse, the Model Minority myth’s negative im- Hmong, and Taiwanese descent as “Asian-American” gives the pacts extend far beyond a set of theoretical harms. Not only does implicit suggestion that their cultures are fundamentally similar the Model Minority myth divide Asian-Americans from other eth- enough to make such a comparison; and, by extension, that any nic minorities, but it also masks the issues which afflict less priv- large cultural differences from the “Asian-American” norm indicate ileged Asian-Americans. One unfortunate example of the dangers that they are not Asian enough. of misrepresentation comes in the realm of education: despite the This essentially leaves one option: replacing the label. Although stereotype that all Asian-Americans are studious and academically some might worry that such a rejection would undermine any sense successful, many lower-income Southeast Asian-Americans drop of solidarity, any true solidarity between these ethnic groups should out of high school at alarmingly high rates. While their more priv- not require the existence of a label which suggests that they are all the ileged counterparts fuss over which colleges they will be attending, same. Let Cambodian-Americans be Cambodian; Chinese-Amerimany of these lower-income Asian-Americans won’t go to college at cans be Chinese; and Filipino-Americans be Filipino. Forcing the all. This is not to say that the Harvard lawsuit’s fundamental charge artificial label of “Asian-American” onto these individuals only

23

WHOISJOHNGALT

feeds into the myth that all of these cultures are similar enough to be grouped together while failing to capture the true diversity of all the issues which afflict individuals who might be considered Asian-American. Arguably the most convincing proof of the need for a label beyond just “Asian-American” is the fact that more and more individuals have already begun replacing the label with more specific alternatives, such as “Chinese-American” and “Filipino-American.” If these individuals are themselves rejecting the notion that they are all the same, then society itself cannot force this notion upon them.

Nevertheless, several valid objections still exist to the argument to replace the label with terms such as “Cambodian-American” and “Laotian-American.” The first comes from parallels to other minorities in America—if Hispanic and Latinx individuals can group themselves together in ways that refocus political action on their collective interests, the reasoning goes, then why can’t Asian-Americans do the same? The problem with this approach is twofold. First, Hispanic individuals share a common language—this is a broad, inherent similarity which Asian-Americans do not have. Secondly, the impacts of applying “Latinx” and “Hispanic” as ethnic labels still differ radically from those of the term “Asian-American.” Among all ethnic minorities, income inequality is widest among Asian-Americans, an inequality which is especially pernicious because it occurs largely along racial lines. Thus, even the empirical data indicates that Asian-Americans are not similar enough to be grouped together under such a label.

The second objection is one of practicality. Not only have individuals who have been labeled as “Asian-Americans” already been grouped together, but they have managed to fight for greater representation both politically and culturally in recent years based on this more general label. Wouldn’t rejecting this label undo many of these symbolic victories? This argument is, in theory, absolutely correct—Asian-Americans have been lumped together by society-at-large, and by banding together have been able to score major political victories despite these general identifications. And yet upon closer examination, the argument still falls apart: the representational victories for Asian-Americans are unfortunately based on a narrow definition of who qualifies as “Asian-American.” Take, for example, the film Crazy Rich Asians.

While the film itself is undeniably an important milestone for Asian-American media representation in general, it nevertheless furthers a narrow definition of who gets to be Asian—the film’s only scene portraying Indians casts them as savages who do little more than point and grunt. The Indian gurkha guards literally have no speaking lines. And even though the film does represent a small sliver of Asian-America with sensitivity, it nevertheless proclaims to be a film not about “Crazy Rich Individuals in Southeast Asia, likely of Chinese Descent” (which, admittedly, doesn’t have the same ring to it) but rather “Crazy Rich Asians.” To make matters worse, one of the film’s central characters—played by Awkwafina—often speaks in an affected

24

African-American Vernacular English, even though the character’s dialogue does not require AAVE to achieve its intended effect. Therefore, the implication that Crazy Rich Asians is about Asians—not just a small subset of Asia—is especially alarming, given the film’s apparent unwillingness to grapple with the diversity of Asian-America as well as America itself. Thus, victories in media representation for Asians are only true victories if they are framed within a very narrow definition of who gets to be Asian-American, and these victories, unfortunately, have failed to sensitively grapple with the broader notions of the responsibilities of being a minority in America. If nothing else, replacing the label “Asian-American”—at least temporarily—should give Asian-Americans a better sense of the opinions which are being excluded from the discussion, and perhaps, hopefully, lend insight into how media victories for Asian-Americans might not have to come at the expense of expressing sensitivity toward other minorities in general.

Admittedly, there is no way to force Asian-Americans to reject this broad labeling. And yet if Asian-America remains broadly unwilling to represent the views and beliefs of all its members—if it remains bound to a narrow, exploitative definition of who gets to be Asian—then the only way forward is to discard the label altogether, at least for now. Moreover, in discarding the label, those who identify themselves as Asian-American may hopefully better understand how isolated Asian-America has been from other minorities at large.

They may learn that media victories, no matter how significant, must come with sensitivity and care if they claim to represent all Asians.

And perhaps, if Asian-America recognizes its own shortcomings, the label “Asian-American” may someday find a new meaning. But for now, at least, it should remain as nothing more than a label—a label whose very existence is premised on a false myth about who is—and isn’t—Asian in America today.

THOMAS PFEIFFER

A

side from prevailing as one of the few universities to have an official glossary for campus lingo (just for those giddy pro-fros and weary mid-winter tourists), Stanford may be the only American university to dub itself “The Farm.”

Why is this tag touted by the administration, you may ask? Well, aside from the current campus lying on the founders’ former stock farm, and the presence of a small research acreage that resembles something of a neighborhood garden from Southern Living, the answer is dubious at best.

As a student who hails from rural, south-central Nebraska, I’ve spent my first year and a half here trying to answer that question myself. But time and time again, I find the university’s current engagement efforts with rural students to be at odds with its self-proclaimed moniker.

Let us first consider this: as a demographic, rural students compose 4-5 percent of the Stanford undergraduate student body. For some, this may seem reasonable, especially considering patterns of self-selection and admission biases that plague certain rural applicants to elite, private universities. For instance, a study found applicants who cited leadership positions in community and agricultural youth organizations (e.g. 4-H, FFA, ROTC) had, in some cases, a 65 percent lower chance at admission to selective schools.

But, on the whole, rural individuals account for 19.3 percent of the US population—amplifying Stanford’s nearly four-to-five-fold deficit in rural representation.

This then begs this question: why does this matter?

The self-evident reasons are plentiful. For one, rural areas are some of the largest contributors to crucial sectors of our economy. After all, aside from California, plains and rust belt states pave the way on total agriculture and energy production across the union.

From here, it would follow that the perspectives of rural students who grow up in families with careers grounded in these sectors (as opposed to the more coastal industries of finance technology, and media) are unique within themselves.

Indeed, some students already recognize this factor.

Gabrielle Torrance, a junior co-leading an alternative spring break (ASB) trip to Illinois this March to raise awareness for the roles that private universities can play in engagement with rural areas, says, “Hearing from students whose parents are employed in [rural] industries... is valuable to aspiring policymakers or anyone else interested in the future of the country’s economy.”

But the significance of a rural perspective at a place like Stanford is not purely dependent on the socioeconomic stature of family members and friends. Nor does it lie in the more abstract lore of 200-person towns, “bring-your-tractor-to-school days,” and camaraderie at community potlucks.

Indeed, grave social and economic disparities are very real in today’s rural regions, which further embody the rural-urban divide. Shortages of doctors and medical staff, significant levels of poverty, poorer health outcomes, and the logistical challenges of coordinating care facilities within a geographically dispersed population generate health care challenges far different than those undertaken in urban areas.

In recent decades, rural education systems have been forced to grapple with higher relative poverty rates, staffing shortages (especially in STEM fields), and the necessary redirection of funds for student transportation, which can adversely affect learning outcomes.

Furthermore, despite rural students having higher high school graduation rates, fewer of them matriculate and ultimately earn a college degree when compared to

their metropolitan peers (not to mention the lack of access to college preparatory opportunities, which is magnified by the practical absence of rural school choice among other factors).

However, the rural experience extends beyond the aforementioned socioeconomic trends and inequalities in healthcare and education. It encompasses the deficiencies of rural infrastructure; it embodies the technological disparities of broadband, smartphone, and computer access. And arguably, it’s most nuanced on the sociopolitical front, where rural areas are often portrayed as either “morally indefensible,” “disenfranchised” communities or conjured up as the picturesque, Main Street U.S.A towns where everyone greets each other with a handshake and a smile. As a result, the perspective rural students are endowed with draws its significance from this complex and multifaceted web of stereotypes, policy dilemmas, and cultural dynamics at play in the non-urban reality.

And in today’s grand scheme of college admissions, realities like this have begun to matter more and more.

Indeed, selective universities now espouse diversity as a cornerstone of the undergraduate experience, citing their abilities to generate a culturally rich and vibrant community, foster a robust exchange of ideas, and provide an environment in which students can actively en-

gage with current events and “deeper societal questions.”

But, we can’t (and shouldn’t) shy away from this topic with a naive eye. Indeed, while such efforts have helped many minority demographics gain ground in the student body profile, select demographics still lag. For example, black enrollment at several elite universities has stagnated, and in some cases, declined, since the 1990s. The New York Times’ database on socioeconomic diversity demonstrates how several selective universities are predominantly composed of students who originate from the top two quintiles of American wealth. And on the geographical front, students of rural origin are no exception to the ongoing phenomenon.

“Under-representation of rural students is a concern across higher education in general and a concern that we at Stanford are increasingly working to address...it is our hope that our applicant pool increasingly reflects the geographic diversity of the national and global population,” confirmed Eliza Powers, the Stanford undergraduate admissions officer for several midwestern states.

So, the grand question: what is being done?

In recent years, universities across the nation have proactively enacted policies that incentivize and attach substantial value to applications from rural regions of the United States. Princeton expanded its ROTC and community college transfer programs in 2017, which the WSJ cites as disproportionately aiding rural applicants in the admissions process. In recent years, schools like Duke and the University of California, Berkeley have helped train advisors with the College Advising Corps, whose mission is to enroll more demographically underrepresented youth in higher education (including students from rural areas). And perhaps most notably, in 2017, Swarthmore commenced a program dubbed “Small Towns at Swarthmore,” which sends targeted mailings to rural prospects, along with an invitation for school counselors to nominate students for an all-expenses-paid visit to the eastern Pennsylvania college.

But here in Palo Alto, the situation isn’t as sunny as one might expect. Earlier this month, our undergraduate office of admissions was kind enough to inform me of itstheir practices for recruiting rural students, which are centered around mailings (both through digital sources and booklets via US mail), as well as video conferencing with small groups.

I, along with other rural students, genuinely appreciate these efforts and no doubt understand the glaring logistical challenges of reaching rural applicants. After all, it’s difficult to justify sending one counselor on a four-hour round trip through corn country to a high school where only one student may choose to ultimately apply.

“Stanford did not recruit to me, it recruited to a city about 60 miles away, but no one from my town has gone to Stanford [before me], so why would they spend time going to a town of 1,200 where they’ll have no applicants?” emphasized Johnathan Bridges, a current sophomore from the Northern Tennessee town of Huntsville (Population: 1,248).

Nevertheless, as a rural applicant, I found the Stanford process stifling. It felt as though I was wandering in the

dark with no sense of direction, clinging to the generic online portals viewed by 40,000 other applicants, no indication of admissions officer visits within a 100-hundred mile radius of my home, no possibility of becoming enlightened from the perspective of a current student (because there were none in my immediate area), and upon admission, no alumni-orchestrated meetups or receptions within the entire state (a practice that any Stanford student knows is ubiquitous to significant urban areas).

So, in the end, from Common App “opening day” to my notification of admission, the only real source of information I had available to me was a single interview with an alum and a booklet that arrived just days before the submission of my application.

However, this practice doesn’t have to linger as a misguided status quo and ingrain itself in the minds of future matriculants. For starters, Stanford could implement an online information platform tailored to rural applicants (an idea supported by Bridges from Tennessee) or incorporate admissions officer visits to centralized locations in rural regions, so students from multiple school districts can take advantage of the opportunity to learn about Stanford in a time-efficient and cost-conscious manner. An alternative initiative, suggested by Torrance, could be one in which prospective rural applicants are connected with current undergraduates (preferably who originate from rural areas) so they can gauge the first-hand experience of those who live the Stanford life 30 weeks of the year.

Another point of contention worthy of clarification to rural students interested in “The Farm” is the holistic admissions process and generous financial aid programs posed by Stanford. Speaking from experience, many rural prospects dismiss aspirations of applying to selective universities because of the historically ingrained (albeit stereotypical and exaggerated) image of a “4.5 GPA, 36 ACT” admit who grew up in the shadows of Wall Street, and sauntering on the beaches of Martha’s Vineyard. In reality though, universities like Stanford value far more than the numbers behind a face or a family’s aristocratic origins, and offer generous financial aid packages that rival those of instate universities.

Hence, in the coming admissions cycles, I am eager to witness how Stanford takes initiative on the rural front and capitalizes on its plentiful resources to reach well-deserving students in what many dismiss as the “fly-over” regions of our country. After all, if the admissions office is serious about its mission to promote the triad of academic excellence, intellectual vitality, and, most relevant to our concerns here, personal context, it needs to think more critically about the perspectives of students from one traffic light towns—the ones who grow up surrounded by more cattle than people, the ones who never know how far away help is when they dial 911, the ones who recognize every single face strolling the sidewalks of their town, the ones who don’t simply walk two miles down the road to their “nextdoor neighbor.”

If this perspective were more widely understood and present here at Stanford, then maybe we could pride ourselves on being “The Farm.”

Stanford politics PODCAST Bringing you insightful commentary on campus and national news as well as interviews with Stanford professors and administrators, student leaders and political figures.

LISTEN TO US ON ITUNES, SOUNDCLOUD OR WHEREVER ELSE YOU GET YOUR PODCASTS!

Past guests have included former Congressman Barney Frank (D-MA); Senator Cory Booker (D-NJ); Stockton Mayor Michael Tubbs; New Yorker writer Larissa MacFarquhar; terrorism theorist Max Abrahms; economists Thomas Piketty and Kenneth Arrow; Law School Professor Michele Dauber; University Provost Persis Drell; the presidents of Stanford Democrats, Stanford Conservative Society and Stanford College Republicans; the ASSU president and vice president and more!

WANT YOUR AD HERE? ADVERTISE WITH STANFORD POLITICS. To place an ad in future print issues, our weekly newsletter, our podcast, or on our website, email info@stanfordpolitics.org.

STANFORD POLITICS Thanks for reading.

For those on Stanford’s campus, we would appreciate if you leave this copy in a public space when you’re finished so others may also enjoy it.