Tension filled the air when I went home to Michigan for the summer. Students, policy makers and the academic establishment were all strained to the breaking point, waiting for something to pop. At the end of June, something did: the Supreme Court handed down a split decision on the use of racial preferences at the University of Michigan. The immediate stalemate over, both the University and its critics tried to claim victory while sifting through the legal debris. But by the time I left Michigan to return to Dartmouth, the pressure was building again, and both sides were rearming. After another compromise verdict from the Supreme Court on race in the academy, it won't be long before the battle over preferences erupts again.
This June in Michigan seemed like a flashback to the June of 1978, when the Court handed down its decision in Bakke vs. California Board of Regents, which declared racial quotas in college admissions illegal but left the door open for other, unspecified racial preferences. The result was 25 years of legal wrangling over just what form such preferences should take, culminating this year in the two cases from the University of Michigan -- Grutter v. Bollinger, involving Michigan's law school admissions, and Gratz v. Bollinger, challenging the university's point system for undergraduate admissions -- that landed on the Supreme Court docket. But instead of ending decades of litigation by providing a clear directive to colleges, the justices tried to split the difference again: a 6-3 decision ruled the infamous point-system -- under which an applicant's race was worth more points than SAT scores, personal achievements, and essay combined -- amounted to a racial quota and was illegal, but the law school's murkier use of race as one factor in admissions survived by a 5-4 margin. The court passed up its opportunity to settle a decades-old controversy, or at least establish some ground rules. Now the legal contest starts over, and the circus has already begun.
Thousands of would-be applicants waited in limbo while the University of Michigan revamped its undergraduate admissions process. In August Michigan rolled out its new 'essay-driven' formula -- supposedly a more flexible and holistic approach to admissions. Applicants must answer two new short essays in addition to the traditional long essay. For one of the short essays, prospective students must respond to one of these questions: "At the University of Michigan, we are committed to building an academically superb and widely diverse educational community. What would you as an individual bring to our campus community?" or "Describe an experience you've had where cultural diversity -- or a lack thereof -- has made a difference to you." Call me cynical, but I hate to guess how much influence that response will have over admissions. University officials also told the "Chronicle of Higher Education" that "they plan to monitor enrollments carefully to make sure that minority representation on the campus does not decline." In other words, the university is back at its old tricks. At least the now-defunct point system was straightforward -- applicants knew whether or not they would get a bonus or start off 20 points in the hole. Now preferences can hide behind a "holistic" faade.
Then Ward Connerly arrived, and things heated up. Connerly, an African-American activist with the American Civil Rights Coalition, was a key proponent of the California ballot initiative that banned the use of racial preferences in that state's college admissions several years ago. In the wake of the recent Supreme Court rulings, he traveled to Michigan to sponsor a similar ballot initiative. Connerly was "welcomed" by U.S. congressman John Dingell, a Democrat. Dingell sent Connerly a vitriolic letter that read in part: "The people of Michigan have a simple message to you: go home and stay there. We do not need you stirring up trouble where none exists. Michiganers do not take kindly to your ignorant meddling in our affairs. We have no need for itinerant publicity seekers, non-resident troublemakers or self-aggrandizing out-of-state agitators. Mr. Connerly, take your message of hate and fear, division and destruction and leave. Go home and stay there, you're not welcome here."
That a U.S. congressman would write such a letter -- and proudly post it online for the world to see -- speaks volumes about Dingell's character and about the character of the renewed debate over preferences. Connerly responded with his own open letter to Dingell, replying that "the term arrogance does not begin to capture the essence of a United States congressman advising an American citizen to refrain from participating in the affairs of his government. Ironically, your advice is the echo of southern segregationists who sought the comfort of states' rights to practice their discrimination against black Americans. Have you learned nothing about 'civil rights' from that horrible chapter in our nation's history?" Connerly is proceeding with his campaign.
Thus ended this summer of discontent in Michigan, but there will be more to come. The battle has been joined. Here we go again.
