Letters to the Editor

Can't we just get along?

I have two things to add to the discussion raised by Andrew Heller in his recent article "Is Stanford invading Harvard-Yale turf?" [YH 11/16/00]. I realize that, because I'm a Stanford student, what I offer here will be scoured for signs of bias, but I'll try to be as objective as I can.

First, Heller, like Vasugi V. Ganesh-ananthan of the Harvard Crimson, who contended in a 4/18/00 article that Stanford is a fine place to "take advantage of" the new economy, suggests that Stanford is lucky to find itself in Silicon Valley. "Perhaps the main reason Stanford has become such an important player in the competition between Harvard and Yale is, quite simply, its location," says Heller.

What he and Ganeshananthan fail to acknowledge is that Stanford is pretty much the reason that Silicon Valley exists where it does. Surely there are other factors—the general influx of resources into California in the early 20th Century, the room for expansion that then existed on the peninsula, the proximity of a major transportation center in San Francisco, etc. But Stanford provided most of the initial human capital and research money that lit the sparks of the Silicon Valley bonfire, and the school has continued to feed the flames.

Second, if rivalries between academic institutions are "more than just skin-deep," as Heller suggests they are between Harvard, Stanford, and Yale, then they've gone too far. So-called "healthy" competition seems positive from an economic perspective. But is such bad blood spiritually or really even societally productive? I thought universities were places where people banded together to combat human ignorance, not combat "the other guys." There are a hell of a lot of straw men out there. While faculty might have to deal closely with the identity politics of the seeming sports teams for which they work, please let us—as thinking students with our whole professional lives ahead of us—work to avoid letting such boorish conflict dominate our self-concepts and the concepts we have of students at other universities.

I understand that writers like Mr. Heller are under pressure to give their audience what it asks for, and college students at top schools are certainly interested to hear what their counterparts at other elite institutions are up to. But journalists do a disservice to all of us when they perpetuate tired mindsets.

—Parker Van Valkenburgh, Stanford '03

Alexandria disappoints

Emily Liebert's "Eat and don a fez like an Egyptian" [YH 11/10/00] is quite possibly the most misleading restaurant review in the history of Yale journalism. Liebert's reviews are generally quite accurate, so the four of us trekked on up to the sketchy end of Crown Street to Alexandria, the new Middle Eastern restaurant, to celebrate the end of classes before Thanksgiving break. To put it mildly, our experience there left something—okay, just about everything—to be desired.

The first shock came the moment we stepped into the restaurant, when our eyes were assaulted by bright fluorescent lighting that created a dining atmosphere about as inviting as a Rite-Aid. While the 36" TV playing Arabic programming was a cute detail, the volume was intrusively loud and the graphic images of burned and maimed bodies on the Arabic news channel were highly uncalled for. The kitschy decorations, consisting mostly of pictures of Nefertiti and King Tut, as well as astroturf and children's toys and figurines, contributed about as much to the ambiance as a bunch of posters slapped up on the walls of a sterile Yale dorm room. If there was a hoop on the wall, we could have pushed the tables aside and played a game of two-on-two, because the bright, cavernous ceiling and the linoleum floors made the dining area look more like a high school gymnasium than a restaurant.

And then came the food. We were each given a "salad" consisting of a small plastic plate of olives, carrots, and cauliflower, pickled so hard that they were rendered inedible. The shawarma dinner—"for carnivores, certain to please," according to Liebert—was dry, tasteless, and small. We should also point out that all of the plates and cutlery were flimsy plastic reminiscent of the Branford tent.

To be fair, there were some bright spots that stood out. We all got a good buzz from the hooka pipe, a colorful 3" bong of apple tobacco that we passed around after our surprisingly cheap meal. And the service was fast and friendly, but that might have more to do with the fact that we were the only people there.

Liebert writes about "the bright eclectic decor, the good food that requires two hands," and states that "none of your senses will go home disappointed." But the four of us went home sensing that we had gone to a different restaurant altogether. No matter how late at night it stays open, the chances of this place becoming popular with students, as Liebert insinuates, are about as good as Pat Buchanan winning a Palm Beach hand count. Liebert had best stay away from the hooka pipe before writing her next food review. —Jay Hallen, SM '01, Bill Goldman,

BK '01, Bill Burke, SM '01, and Mike Baldwin, BR '01

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