I am sure the Class of 2029 is basking in the joy of their selection. They should be. There is much to be excited about. But they will soon learn what we grizzled almost-sophomores now know: the choosing is just getting started. It is a long-documented fact that we have a culture of exclusivity here. Many, myself included, have taken issue with this in the past. But I have changed my mind.

Rachel Shin ‘25 has detailed at great length the immense selectivity of our campus organizations. The subtext is clear — “college students are doing it to themselves.” The natural conclusion here is that our draconian selection processes result from a great failure by our students. But I think the creators of these processes had the right idea.

Rejection strips away the entitlement of the prodigal first year, and as such is equally valuable to the university as all the open fellowships and accessible opportunities in the world. It is rejection that opens first years up to new avenues of exploration.

For “gifted and talented” first years arrive at Yale having never truly failed in their lives. As such, they define themselves by the many awards and positions they have accumulated over the years. Once here, they quickly search for a new anchor of identity in a campus organization, often one centered around their previous areas of success. After an elaborate set of essays and interviews rivaling the Common Application, many are rejected and some are accepted.

It is only here that the true growth begins. For the rejected, mere platitudes about detachment are not enough: personal exploration and a truly-held identity are the only cure for that first great failure. Rejected from the Debate Association, the star high school debater must decide if they like arguing for its own sake, and if so, how to independently keep their voice sharp. Not-quite-club-level former varsity tennis players must improvise hitting sessions with other has-beens. Of the would-be a cappella singers, some find new outlets for their voices while others forever reserve their singing for the shower. All along the question is asked: Without the titles, what do you want to do with your time? 

As for the selected, they too quickly realize that nobody really cares. Their initial acceptance only delays the journey of self-exploration the rejected are already beginning. Eventually, all will be rejected, from some thing or another. If my email inbox is any indication, I can promise the Class of 2029 that being a Yale student entitles you to no position.

I don’t think we should shame people for joining selective organizations and I don’t think we should sound the alarm about exclusivity. People will always aim to be selected and all shaming does is further obscure the process of selection. The real world is competitive, and processing rejection is a skill to be learned like any other. In the real world, Americans increasingly decry highly selective universities as bastions of groupthink where education is no longer valued and a nefarious political agenda supersedes all. And yet application numbers continue to creep up. I would much prefer a culture that is transparent about its desire for selection.

It is hard to see a university that rejects over 95 percent of its applicants as the “schoolhouse for the world” of President McInnis’ inaugural address. But Yale will impart the same lesson to the rejected and accepted alike. The accepted will just wait a little longer.

ROHIL MOHAN is a first year in Morse College studying Economics and Political Science. He can be reached at rohil.mohan@yale.edu.

The post MOHAN: Yale needs rejection appeared first on Yale Daily News.

It was just a few months ago. Institutional neutrality, a policy in which university leaders refrain from commenting on political issues, was the universally-held remedy for the many issues of American universities. Politicians from every end of the spectrum, administrators angling for an end to painful Congressional hearings and free-speech activists were all in agreement: the time of universities taking political positions was over. Yale agreed, and new policies instructing administrators on how and when to speak were implemented.

I remember thinking: fair enough. I can understand the appeal of an institutionally neutral university. Edicts from university administrators on morality are divisive. The American public is sick and tired of campus politics on the 5 o’clock news. One third of America has little to no confidence in higher education. As such, the idea of the university as an unbiased forum for debate serves a greater purpose: rebuilding public trust in universities as a nonpartisan public good.

At least at Yale, we’re doing our part. We’ve quieted down. We are walking the talk of institutional neutrality. So can we please study in peace?

If universities are to be separated from politics, it must be a two-way street. Our legislators need to treat institutes of higher education neutrally. Legislators need to separate partisan politics and the nonpartisan pursuit of knowledge. That is not what is happening right now.

It is one thing to expand the already-extensive process of securing NIH funding in the name of promoting higher quality research. Research journals can be fairly criticized for putting useful research beyond a paywall. If legislators want to make policy changes on the basis of increasing scientific standards or access, go ahead. But politically motivated cuts to university research funding, as we are seeing with our aspiring summer researchers, are another matter entirely. These students are not politicians or radical activists. They are astrophysicists. Are astrophysics political? 

If the goal is to depoliticize universities, why are we making federal support for apolitical, educational goals contingent on agreement with inherently political positions? 

Maybe you agree with the political goals of this initiative, or maybe you don’t. It doesn’t matter. This specific mandate pales when compared to the precedent it sets. Making educational funding contingent on adherence to a government’s prescribed social agenda promotes institutional uniformity, not institutional neutrality. That should be concerning to Americans from every range of the political spectrum.

Legislators use the straw man of the hyper-political, extremely wealthy private university to justify proposals that slash university funding and heavily tax university endowments. And indeed, a select group of private universities have massive, GDP-sized endowments. The highly specific nature of endowment funds aside, only these very wealthy private institutions will be able to support their students through these politicized cuts. For instance, the previously mentioned Yale astrophysicists are now being funded, albeit unsustainably, by Yale itself. To see the true victim of these funding cuts, I can look to the hospital where I was delivered: the University of Massachusetts Chan Medical School. Their Graduate School of Biomedical Sciences just announced the rescinding of all offers of admission to students. All that will be left if these efforts continue are the very universities these policies are intended to punish.

A final note on institutional neutrality: Yale decided that even while neutral, administrators may speak publicly on issues directly affecting the university’s mission. Even the most institutionally neutral scholar would agree we have met this standard. President McInnis, you have an opportunity. There is still value to be found at this university, least of all in the doubling in economic returns of every NIH dollar we spend. The intra-campus email was a start, but I urge you to speak to the country on the value of what we do here. Without public trust in higher education, all the world’s best lobbyists and DC backchanneling will be for nothing.

ROHIL MOHAN is a first year in Morse College studying Economics and Political Science. He can be reached at rohil.mohan@yale.edu.

The post MOHAN: On the politicization of astrophysics appeared first on Yale Daily News.

It’s easy to see why her advice has endured. Though maybe less frequently at the political monolith of Yale, we’ve all wished we could melt into our chairs at a red-faced political shouting match that was once a friendly dinner. God forbid my unknown seatmate in Introductory Macroeconomics asks me about my tuition payment plan. But would it be such a faux pas if after a lecture on unemployment, they mentioned the Bible’s verses on social welfare?

I’m not a Christian. I’m not looking to be converted. But I bring up this annoyingly specific hypothetical to introduce my point: we should normalize talking about religion.

At the Catholic high school I attended, talking about religion was a pretty normal thing to do. This makes sense, it being a Catholic school and all. But our conversations were so much more than just preaching. For example: every day, I sat at lunch with a Catholic, a Sikh, a Muslim and an atheist. As one does at school lunch, we ritually conferenced about the contents of our meals. This was far from a secular conference.

Our atheist loved the school chicken nuggets. Yet, to our Muslim friend’s frequent annoyance, the school chicken nuggets weren’t prepared in the halal tradition, and as such, a no-go for him. As a result, our Muslim friend brought his own delicious chicken to lunch. Yet our Sikh friend couldn’t eat the halal chicken, since Sikhism prohibits the consumption of ritually-killed animals. At the same time, our Sikh friend knew never to offer me, a Hindu, the ground beef he often brought from home. These religious undertones were made clear at our very first lunch, and they were never really far from mind.

I think this was an incredibly powerful exercise. It set a precedent for open conversation and acceptance, and it laid a foundation for future friendship based on deep mutual understanding. It was a natural consequence of a school where talking about religion was directly encouraged. Social conversation is about building understanding between newly meeting people. Therefore, how can we exclude from social conversation a topic which is often so worldview-shaping? This is different from social discussion of politics, which inherently lends itself to conflict. I’m not calling for an open debate between religious groups at Yale. I’m just asking people to consider openly talking about their religion, or lack thereof, in social conversation.

What bothers me is not that Yale students don’t talk about religion. They do. Indeed, the Chaplain’s office has noted an increase in religious engagement amongst students post-COVID-19. Even then, the religiosity of students is beside the point. The issue is that the religious discussions that do occur are primarily taking place in mono-religious spaces. Yale boasts a strong Christian Union, Muslim Students Association, Slifka Center, Hindu Students Organization, Buddhist Students Association, Humanist Community and many others. I think these groups perform a wonderful service for the community in providing religious spaces for students. I just don’t want them to be the only place where students feel comfortable talking about their religious beliefs. These religious centers are great for creating strong individual religious communities. But if students only express their religious beliefs amongst students of their own religion, it will be a great disservice to our broader campus community. 

What could this social expression of religion look like? On a major religious holiday, consider inviting a friend to your respective campus religious group’s celebration, if possible. Some of my most treasured friendships have been strengthened with visits to friends’ religious homes. At these visits, I witnessed my friends in what was to me a novel location, but for them a core aspect of their life. If you’re under a religious dietary restriction, consider being open about the technical, doctrinal specifics of said restriction. Help others understand why you live life a certain way. In the casual discussion of an issue on which religion shapes your perspective, don’t secularize your truly held position: be frank about your point of view. And if you’re not religious like the majority of Yalies, it’ll be worth your time to listen.

If Yale’s mission is to “train future leaders,” as per its mission statement, then Yalies better understand the three in four Americans that are of faith. If Yale is to be George Pierson’s “society of friends,” then we ought to understand our friends’ most closely held beliefs. Either way, we need to talk about religion.

ROHIL MOHAN is a first year in Morse College studying Economics and Political Science. He can be reached at rohil.mohan@yale.edu.

The post MOHAN: On acceptable conversation appeared first on Yale Daily News.

Vivek Ramaswamy’s searing indictment of American cultural mediocrity made waves on the internet. It made waves at my family’s dinner table. It made waves at the gatherings of my mom and dad’s fellow Indian immigrant friends, the men and women I call “uncle” and “aunty.” It left a mark on me.

Ramaswamy’s tweet came across as remarkably genuine: the irrelevance of “geeks” on millennial teen television and the social dominance of “jocks” over valedictorians in high school clearly worry Ramaswamy. His concerns are valid: we need the geeks to save our country! American global leadership is now largely dependent on the development of leading artificial intelligence — hello, DeepSeek. That our leading competitor, China, has an educational culture centered around mastering the incredibly rigorous “gaokao” examination only heightens the weight of Ramaswamy’s argument. But it doesn’t make him completely right.

In his own words, Ramaswamy believes that a culture focused on math tutoring, weekend science competitions and everything but “chillin” is the solution to mediocrity. His words are familiar. I spent my childhood enrolled in every local supplemental math and science class offered. I attended two preschools simultaneously, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, so I “wasn’t sitting around at home doing nothing.” I do not doubt that many would criticize my parents’ decisions as excessive. Regardless, my parents, Vivek and now I are all in agreement: this kind of hyper-focus on education, so typical in immigrant households, is a good thing and should be encouraged.

Like Screech in Vivek’s “Saved by the Bell” and like, I suspect, Ramaswamy himself, I was not exactly “cool” in my tweenage years. Ramaswamy says this was a great injustice, which must be fixed by reshaping the American culture into one that values academic knowledge above all else. 

This is where I disagree. My Algebra 2 knowledge didn’t make me any more of a leader. Instead, teachers and students alike looked to the approachable, funny, and yes, athletic students as leaders. American culture values more than just academic knowledge! American culture motivated me to begin a new education, one which I’m not sure Vivek would approve of. I replaced an extra math class with travel basketball, where I learned how difficult earning a team’s trust could be. I went to prom at Central Massachusetts’ iconic Union Station and learned to appreciate the value of carefree youth. I spent an inordinate amount of time “chillin” in basements, learning to appreciate good humor. And yeah, I had a lot more friends as a result.

At Yale, where there are 99th percentile test takers at every turn, we would be hard-pressed to select our leaders strictly based on their academic knowledge. On the floor of the Political Union, we look for not just novel arguments but also the social awareness to have respect for our audiences. In a president, we search for both academic achievement and empathy. We do so not frivolously or out of a flawed culture. We do so because we know that knowledge alone does not guarantee honest leadership. 

Ramaswamy is right in saying that our culture should assign significant importance to academics. But he wholly misses why interpersonal abilities are so valued in American culture. I couldn’t have made it to Yale without my parents’ dedication to educating me, but it’s my interpersonal education that shapes my Yale experience every single day. For that education, I have American culture to thank.

ROHIL MOHAN is a first year in Morse College studying Economics and Political Science. He can be reached at rohil.mohan@yale.edu.

The post MOHAN: On “chillin” appeared first on Yale Daily News.