By Ben Smith
A postcard of Yale, more likely than not, will include the University's dominant piece of architecture; Harkness Tower. The Guild of Carillonneurs have exclusive access to the tower, the platform, and the view of Yale and New Haven. Harkness Tower is not a particularly outrageous example of exclusivity--many would agree that the Carillonneurs earn their privilege--but the tower provides a most visible example of Yale's strange, consistent exclusivity.
Exclusiveness need not imply malice or elitism. At Yale, exclusiveness is better characterized as a theme than as an outright evil. Its causes range from the obvious, perpetual, Harvard-driven inferiority complex to the more traditional, old-fashioned snobbery. Evil or not, however, exclusiveness is strangely common in this exclusive institution, so common that exclusion often seems an end-in-itself rather than a necessary feature of certain organizations. Ethnic and religious groups naturally exclude outsiders, and a case can be made around the expensive resources of, say, the Art department. But what about Directed Studies, the Humanities major, the Ethics, Politics & Economics major, and the Theater major? The Carillonneurs rightly keep the unmusical away from their bells, but why do they have sole rights to the Tower? We have exclusive political parties (the POR, Tories, and Progs) and the famously exclusive secret societies in their windowless crypts. Even Yale's unique residential college system creates arbitrary and fixed groups.
For any given example, there is a case to be made for exclusiveness. Any group must exclude someone. But a culture of exclusiveness dominates Yale, from the most visible symbol to the most secret institution. Sometimes exclusiveness is a convenience; at other, more troubling times, it is a privilege. Scarcity conveys value, and presumably these groups enjoy their position all the more for the fact of exclusive possession.
Don't misunderstand me: this isn't a call for violent revolution or for the storming of Harkness Tower. No specific case outrages me. But the situation could be healthier. Exclusiveness here is treated like a commodity--we didn't get enough in admissions season, and we scramble desperately to fill our bellies with more. Without too much grumbling about the evils of capitalism, I think it's fair to ask why.
Exclusiveness isn't always practical--there's probably room for one more in the crypt--but humans (not just Yalies) do seem to desire it. The advertising industry certainly takes advantage of our love for the "exclusive offer," and my well-practiced reverse snobbery does not withstand my burning desire to hear secret society gossip. But though Yalies aren't a different species, and though (most) Yalies aren't unusually mean, we do seem to like exclusiveness more than students at comparable institutions. Ivy League schools spent most of their history exercising class snobbery, race snobbery, intellectual elitism, and all the other vices which today we do our best not to inherit. However it was Yale's secret societies--not Harvard's--that made Hard Copy this summer.
Speaking of Harvard, maybe we like to enter exclusive groups within groups because we didn't get accepted there or because, despite the new US News and World Report poll, we are and will always be second in some sort of grand, meaningless-but-bothersome way (why else would we wear all those stupid "Harvard Sucks" T-shirts). That explanation, amusing as it is, may deserve more credit than I want to give it. Or maybe we're jealous, and maybe we're just mean snobs panting to out-snob each other. As little capitalists-in-training we do like to grab all we can, but there's no necessary connection between excluding and grabbing. However, Yale has a culture of its own, and exclusiveness cannot be explained away merely as a symptom of other problems. Exclusion poses a problem in itself, having become an unavoidable part of the Yale experience. Given the choice and in the absence of other factors, we choose to exclude, thank you.