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September 26, 1977, Princeton Alumni Weekly
Admissions and the Relevance of Race
Addressing the issues of principle, policy, and practice raised by the
Bakke case
By William G. Bowen *58
It is only within the last 10-15 years that Princeton, like many other
selective colleges and universities, has made deliberate efforts to enroll
minority students. As recently as 1962 fewer than 15 black students were
attending the undergraduate college and the Graduate School combined.
We do not have reliable figures for other racial minorities, but there
is certainly no reason to believe that, with the possible exception of
Asian-Americans, they were enrolled in significant numbers. Since then
the situation has changed substantially, partly as a result of many individual
and institutional efforts, and partly as a result of the moral concerns
and social forces affecting the entire society, In the fall of 1977, for
example, we expect to have approximately 340 black students and 300 other
minority students in an undergraduate body of 4,400; the comparable figures
for the Graduate School (again approximate) are expected to be 35 black
students and 40 other minority students in a total of about 1,450.
During the same period, similar developments have occurred at most other
educational institutions throughout the country. A variety of alternative
approaches have been designed to improve the access of minority students,
and the issues of principle, policy, and practice raised by these efforts
have been discussed widely. Most recently, the case of The Regents of
the University of California v. Allan Bakke, now before the U.S. Supreme
Court, has raised anew — and in the sharpest possible way —
the fundamental question of how, if at all, race should be considered
relevant in admission decisions.
In a narrower sense, the question before the Court is whether a white
applicant, Allan Bakke, was improperly denied admission to the Medical
School of the University of California at Davis because of the operation
of a special (and separate) admission program which reserved 16 places
out of 100 in each entering class for minority students. The Supreme Court
of California held this admission program to be unconstitutional, and
the Regents of the University of California have asked the U.S. Supreme
Court to overturn that ruling. Since Princeton does not have a medical
school, since we are a private university, and since the admission policies
we follow at both undergraduate and graduate levels differ significantly
from those in effect at the Davis Medical School (we do not have a separate
admission process for minority students nor do we set aside a particular
number of places for them), it might be thought that this case has no
specific implications for us. That could in fact be right, for no one
knows how narrowly or how broadly the Supreme Court will rule. But while
we do not expect to be affected directly by the disposition of this case,
the language of the majority opinion of the California Supreme Court and
the sweeping nature of the arguments advanced in some of the briefs filed
in the appeal make it hard to be at all sure that the ruling will be a
narrow one.
Moreover, whatever the scope of the Court's decision, the Bakke case has
stimulated discussion of such basic questions as: What considerations
should be taken into account in deciding which individuals to admit from
among the large number who apply? Is it ever proper to consider the race
of an applicant, among other attributes? If so, why, and in what ways?
Are there significant distinctions to be drawn between the use of quotas
and other approaches to the recruitment of minority students?
The answers given to these questions are of obvious importance not only
to colleges and universities, but to the country as a whole. They will
influence powerfully the opportunities available to individuals to develop
their talents to the full; and they will also influence, no less powerfully,
both the kind of society to which we aspire and the likelihood of realizing
the hopes so many of us share — for a society in which people of
many races will work together and live together with larger measures of
good will and shared respect than exist today.
In stating my own views on some of these questions, I am aware of the
different connotations and emotional overtones associated with the very
term "race" (which is, nevertheless, unavoidable in this discussion).
In addition, it is clear that many of the questions most at issue are
sensitive, difficult, and divisive; that good people, with the best possible
motives, have come to different conclusions; and that some of the issues
are constitutional and involve complex considerations of a legal nature
that place them outside the competence of those of us who are not lawyers.
Accordingly, this is a personal statement, and it is directed to questions
of educational policy rather than to questions of constitutional law.
The responsibility for the language and the argument is mine; at the same
time, this statement does reflect substantially the main policies and
rationale followed at Princeton during the last decade as we have undertaken
to make the University more accessible to minority students as well as
to others.
N THINKING ABOUT this difficult set of questions, one must begin by considering
the broad purposes to be served in making admission decisions — purposes
which must themselves reflect the still more fundamental goals of the
educational institution as a whole. It is, after all, only within the
context of reasonably well understood objectives that any particular policy
can be assessed. At least part of the disagreement engendered by discussion
of the Bakke case can be attributed, I think, to differences in assumptions
about purpose — differences which are often implicit. While it may
be argued that essentially everything that can be said about purpose is
either so obvious or so general as to be of no help, there is a basic
question to be decided explicitly concerning the nature of each institution
and the group or groups to which those responsible for it should feel
a primary obligation. American higher education is noted for its healthy
diversity, and different approaches to admission should be expected to
follow from different institutional objectives. institutional diversity
is particularly useful in enabling us to test out alternative approaches
in a relatively new area of activity where there may be no single "best"
approach, and where the best combination of approaches for the nation
as a whole may be known only after considerable time has passed.
In the case of this University, there is a primary commitment to learning
itself, including research as well as liberal education in a wide variety
of disciplines. Thus, our fundamental obligation is not to any identifiable
set of individuals — whether they be applicants, current students,
graduates, or faculty members — even though we depend upon and care
greatly about all these groups. Rather, our obligation is to the society
at large over the long run, and, even more generally, to the pursuit of
learning. Amorphous as this way of putting things may sound, I think there
is no escaping our obligation to try to serve the long-term interests
of society defined in the broadest and least parochial terms, and to do
so through two principal activities: advancing knowledge and educating
students who will in turn serve others, within this nation and beyond
it, both through their specific vocations and as citizens.
It is clear that admission decisions are critical to our ability to serve
these broad purposes. Accordingly, we invest a great amount of effort
in deciding which individuals to admit from among the large number who
apply. While there are many ways of looking at the admission process,
for present purposes it may be helpful to distinguish three broad sets
of considerations that are involved in choosing among applicants: (1)
the basic qualifications of individuals; (2) the composition of the student
body; and (3) the potential contributions to society of those applicants
possessing the basic qualifications.
Basic qualifications
It is self-evident that no purpose would be served by admitting students
who were unable to take advantage of the educational opportunities offered
by a university with demanding academic standards. Every candidate must
demonstrate that he or she is capable of doing well at Princeton, and
a first obligation of those responsible for admission is, therefore, to
decide which applicants have the basic qualifications necessary to satisfy
our requirements.
Of course, requirements are different at undergraduate and graduate levels
and among graduate programs. At Princeton the graduate admission process
is decentralized, with departments and schools accepting responsibility
for presenting to the Dean of the Graduate School recommendations concerning
the disposition of each application; the undergraduate college, on the
other hand, has a single Office of Admission which acts on all applications.
In the discussion which follows, my main emphasis is on undergraduate
admission.
Decisions regarding basic qualifications at the undergraduate level are
made on the basis of such evidence as previous academic preparation, including
both courses taken and grades earned; recommendations of teachers and
others concerning personal qualities as well as academic achievement and
promise; aptitude and achievement test scores; the experiences of other
students at the University who had similar qualifications; and so on.
Reading an applicant's folder to determine even basic qualifications is
of course by no means a purely mechanical process. As is well-known, there
is no perfectly reliable or perfectly "objective" measure of
any part of a candidate's credentials, and even such seemingly precise
data as grades and test scores have to be examined carefully to determine
what actual quality of achievement they reflect and what predictive power
they may be thought to have in each instance.
More generally, it is essential to try to understand why an applicant
has done what he or she has done and then to arrive at a prognosis for
the future. While race is not in and of itself a consideration in determining
basic qualifications, and while there are obviously significant differences
in background and experience among applicants of every race, in some situations
race can be helpful information in enabling the admission officer to understand
more fully what a particular candidate has accomplished — and against
what odds. Similarly, such factors as family circumstances and previous
educational opportunities may be relevant, either in conjunction with
race or ethnic background (with which they may be associated) or on their
own.
Any college or university to which admission is highly competitive has
far more applicants who possess all the basic qualifications than it has
places. Some candidates (a relatively small number) are so outstanding
in every respect that they are obvious choices for admission by any standard.
The real problems of choice arise in deciding which individuals to admit
from among the large group who also have very strong qualifications, who
are thought capable of doing the work and doing it well, but who are not
so clearly outstanding as to be placed in the very top category.
In deciding among this group, we do not start from the premise that any
applicant has a "right" to a place in the University. We start
rather from the premise that we have an obligation to make the best possible
use of the limited number of places in each entering class so as to advance
as effectively as we can the broad purposes we seek to serve. Within the
very real limits imposed by the fallibility of any selection process of
this kind, we try hard to be fair to every applicant; but the concept
of fairness itself has to be understood within the context of our obligations
as a university. Accordingly, in making these difficult choices among
well-qualified candidates, the second and third sets of considerations
come into play.
The composition of the student body
The relevance of the second set of considerations is based on the premise
that the overall quality of the educational program is affected not only
by the academic and personal qualities of the individual students who
are enrolled, but also by the characteristics of the entire group of students
who share a common educational experience. While I believe this to be
true for the graduate program too, it is especially important for undergraduate
education and, as a consequence, affects admission decisions much more
significantly at that level. The difference is one of degree, related
partly to the ages and experiences of the students, partly to the purposes
of their educational programs and especially to the emphasis given to
academic specialization, and partly to the respective roles of extracurricular
and curricular activities.
In a residential college setting, in particular, a great deal of learning
occurs informally. It occurs through interactions among students of both
sexes; of different races, religions, and backgrounds; who come from cities
and rural areas, from various states and countries; who have a wide variety
of interests, talents, and perspectives; and who are able, directly or
indirectly, to learn from their differences and to stimulate one another
to reexamine even their most deeply held assumptions about themselves
and their world. As a wise graduate of ours observed in commenting on
this aspect of the educational process, "People do not learn very
much when they are surrounded only by the likes of themselves."
It follows that if, say, 2,000 individuals are to be offered places in
an entering undergraduate class, the task of the Admission Office is not
simply to decide which applicants offer the strongest credentials as separate
candidates for the college; the task, rather, is to assemble a total class
of students, all of whom will possess the basic qualifications, but who
will also represent, in their totality, an interesting and diverse amalgam
of individuals who will contribute through their diversity to the quality
and vitality of the overall educational environment.
This concern for the composition of the undergraduate student body, as
well as for the qualifications of its individual members, takes many forms.
While we are of course interested in enrolling students who are good at
a great many things and not one-dimensional in any sense, we also try
to enroll students with special interests and talents in the arts and
in athletics; we seek a wide geographical representation; we admit foreign
students from a variety of countries and cultures; we recognize the special
contribution that the sons and daughters of alumni can make by representing
and communicating a sense of the traditions and the historical continuity
of the University; and we work consciously and deliberately to include
minority students, who themselves represent a variety of experiences and
viewpoints.
We must accept as a fact of life in contemporary America that the perspectives
of individuals are often affected by their race as by other aspects of
their background. If the University were unable to take into account the
race of candidates, it would be much more difficult to consider carefully
and conscientiously the composition of an entering class that would offer
a rich educational experience to all of its members.
In the nature of things it is hard to know how, and when, and even if,
this informal "learning through diversity" actually occurs.
It does not occur for everyone. For many, however, the unplanned, casual
encounters with roommates, fellow sufferers in an organic chemistry class,
student workers in the library, teammates on a basketball squad, or other
participants in class affairs or student government can be subtle and
yet powerful sources of improved understanding and personal growth. I
have heard too many testimonials, from too many able people of different
races, to treat lightly the importance of such experiences.
Moreover, I believe that we are only at the beginning of what it ought
to be possible for us to accomplish. Thus far we have not succeeded at
all fully in obtaining for our students and our faculty the educational
benefits that should flow from the presence of racial diversity. Apathy,
selfconsciousness, misunderstanding, and distrust are hard to overcome.
Too many of us, of all races, have been reluctant to reach across racial
distances. We have been reluctant to give up some of the comforts that
often come from being with those most like ourselves in order to benefit
from the learning opportunities associated with getting to know people
who have different perspectives. But I am encouraged by the progress that
has been made, slow as it has been, and especially by the evident awareness
of so many students, faculty, and staff that we need to do better.
It is of course true — and it should be recognized — that the
presence on campus of students of different races sometimes results in
tensions and even in hostility. But it is also true that acknowledging
this reality, and learning to cope with it, can be profoundly educational.
In this as in other respects, we often learn at least as much from our
bad days as from our good days.
Perhaps a specific illustration will help make the point. Last October
a number of undergraduate dormitories were circulated with leaflets purporting
to associate a particular student group with the political and racial
views of Lester Maddox. The leaflets called for the exclusion of minority
students and other "undesirables" from the University. Not surprisingly,
initial reactions were sharp, and the incident quickly gave rise to the
expression of bitter feelings on many sides. In some ways these feelings
grew even more intense at a later point, when it became clear that the
leaflets had been designed as a hoax — and mixed with the sharpness
and bitterness was an incredulity that any individuals could be so insensitive
to the feelings of others.
This kind of controversy, and the insights it provided, either would not
have occurred at all, or would have been far more muted, if there had
been fewer minority students at Princeton willing and able to express
their reactions, some in quite biting and personal terms. Because of these
students, and many others, an experience that was hurtful and disturbing
also proved to be very instructive. A number of white students, caught
up in the controversy inadvertently, acquired a deeper understanding of
the sensitivities of their fellow students who were members of racial
minorities, as well as a new awareness of the seriousness of the underlying
problem of racism. In addition, a number of minority students learned
something about their own insecurities and biases, and about ways of coping
with provocations.
In one respect the incident had a quite positive outcome, in that a broader
discussion of questions of race stimulated by the hoax and its aftermath
led to the formation of a student group with strong multi-racial leadership
that continues to work hard to achieve better relationships. But this
constructive result is not what I want to stress. Whether the immediate
outcome of a particular situation be regarded as positive or negative,
I am convinced that in many instances real learning occurs when people
of different races confront the most sensitive questions together, openly
and directly; when pain, frustration, and anger can no longer be hidden,
creating at least a prospect, though never a promise, that some measure
of greater understanding will follow.
These kinds of learning experiences, sometimes very satisfying and sometimes
very painful, are important not only for particular students in an immediate
sense but also for the entire society over time. Our society — indeed
our world — is and will be multi-racial. We simply must learn to
work more effectively and more sensitively with individuals of other races,
and a diverse student body can contribute directly to the achievement
of this end. One of the special advantages of a residential college is
that it provides unusually good opportunities to learn about other people
and their perspectives — better opportunities than many will ever
know again. If people of different races are not able to learn together
in this kind of setting, and to learn about each other as they study common
subjects, share experiences, and debate the most fundamental questions,
we shall have lost an important opportunity to contribute to a healthier
society — to a society less afflicted by the failure of too many
people to understand and respect one another.
Potential contributions to society
The third set of considerations involved in deciding whom to admit from
among the large number of qualified candidates also has to do with contributions
to the society. Here, however, we are concerned not with the broad educational
consequences of a diverse student body but with assessing the potential
contributions to the society of each individual candidate following his
or her graduation — contributions defined in the broadest way to
include the doctor and the poet, the most active participant in business
or government affairs and the keenest critic of all things organized,
the solitary scholar and the concerned parent.
Assessing the long-range potential of any applicant — trying to determine
what the characteristics of individuals can tell us to expect from them
beyond their days as students — is, of course, extremely difficult.
People change, circumstances change, and there is simply no way of predicting
with any great degree of confidence how a particular person will develop
as a student in a given educational environment, let alone after he or
she has left the University to assume new responsibilities. Nonetheless,
if we take seriously our obligation to assign the limited number of places
available to us with the ultimate purposes of the institution in mind,
we have no alternative but to try to make these assessments of potential,
difficult as they may be.
On the basis of our experience, many factors need to be taken into account.
A candidate's grade point average and test scores, though significant
in assessing potential as well as basic qualifications, are by no means
all that is important. It is necessary to try to understand the motivation
of the individual, the drive that he or she can be expected to bring to
any task at hand, qualities of character and of personality, leadership
abilities, skills in relevant non-academic areas, and the personal traits
necessary to overcome adversity.
In making such judgments, the race of the individual, as well as many
other factors, can be relevant in several respects. It is simply not possible
to understand how individuals have come to be the people that they are
without considering the elements that have shaped them. If two candidates
have achieved roughly the same academic results (both meeting fully our
basic qualifications), and one has done so in spite of serious difficulties,
perhaps including the effects of racial discrimination (or, analogously,
the effects of having been disadvantaged in some other way), then that
individual may be thought to have demonstrated a degree of drive and determination
that should be given weight in the competition for admission.
Race is relevant in another respect. It is a fact of contemporary life,
noted by many commentators of quite different persuasions, that our country
needs a far larger number of able people from minority groups in leadership
positions of all kinds. To put the point bluntly — and to borrow
for a moment from the vocabulary of my own discipline of economics —
the demand for minority individuals in many professions and fields, compared
with the supply, is significantly greater than for the rest of the population.
And, I would argue, the true social demand, which should be seen as reflecting
the needs of the society as a whole as well as those immediately relevant
to its constituent elements, is even greater than the sum total of the
perceived demands of individual institutions, businesses, governmental
agencies, and the like. It seems to me indisputable that the welfare of
the entire society will be advanced through the fuller development and
application of the talents of minority members of our population and that
this cannot be accomplished without overcoming the substantial disparities
which exist now between the races in professional opportunities and attainments.
It is most certainly not my view that we should expect — much less
try to force — a kind of "proportional representation"
of different races or ethnic groups in various professions. But one can
stop far short of advocating that kind of statistical outcome and still
refuse, as I do, to regard as acceptable the present disparities which
are clearly products of generations of unfair treatment.
Admission decisions must take into account the needs of society
The substantial public and private support of higher education in this
country reflects a longstanding conviction that our institutions of higher
learning in all of their forms contribute importantly to the development
of what may be called the "social capital" of the nation. We
have long believed that the human resources of the society are enhanced
enormously by making liberal and humane learning, as well as professional
education, available to a large proportion of our people. What is involved
here is partly the enhancement of very personal qualities, including the
ability to appreciate things of beauty, to develop a set of values, to
do nothing less than to lead a full life; and partly the development of
talents essential to the social, economic, cultural, and political—
welfare of the entire society — to the quality of our collective
lives, if you will.
If colleges and universities serve these large societal purposes through
the individuals they have educated, as well as through scholarship and
research, then it seems to me to follow directly that in making admission
decisions educational institutions must take into account the needs of
the society — including the need for minority persons who can contribute
through the law, medicine, the ministry, business, and other professions;
who can pursue scholarly careers in the arts and sciences; who can serve
in positions of public trust; and who can, in fact, take a full part in
every aspect of the life of the nation. If educational institutions were
prevented from being sensitive to race as one factor among others that
are relevant in considering the potential contributions of individuals
to the society, then it would be far more difficult — indeed impossible
— to discharge responsibly the obligation to develop as fully as
possible the "social capital" of the country.
In thinking about social capital, it is important to have in mind a very
broad concept; we are certainly not talking primarily about economic values
or qualities reflected mainly in the marketplace. We mean to include the
ability of individuals to contribute through the multitude of informal
roles open to the concerned citizen, as well as through vocations and
the more formal channels of public service. With this broad conception
before us, it is helpful, I think, to view the admission process as involving
what are, in one sense, long-term investment decisions. In making its
selections, the Admission Office has to consider which individuals among
those with the basic qualifications are most likely over long periods
of time to provide what the economist would call the greatest benefit
(or highest yield) in terms of contribution to the society.
Thinking in these terms can be useful in part because it allows us to
recognize explicitly that risk and potential return are both factors to
be taken into account. For reasons that are familiar to all of us, having
to do with prior preparation and with the pervasive effects of discrimination,
the admission of some minority students may entail modestly greater risk
than the admission of some non-minority students. But surely it is appropriate
to take reasonable risks, remembering that we are talking only about applicants
above the "basic qualifications" threshold, in recognition of
the very substantial potential returns that may result. (I underscore
"some" to emphasize that significant numbers of minority students
have had excellent preparation, test well, and have appreciably stronger
academic records than many white students who are admitted. One of the
discouraging by-products of much of the recent discussion stimulated by
the Bakke case is that it seems to have encouraged a certain tendency
to assume that all, or nearly all, minority students are less well qualified
academically than all, or nearly all, white students. This is not so,
and it is unfair to individuals and harmful to our understanding of the
real issues to think that it is so.)
Of course, the same considerations apply generally in the admission process.
It is often the case that one student with lower test scores than another
will seem a better choice to the admission officer because of what appears
to be a greater potential, even though the individual may also represent
a somewhat greater risk. In short, paying special attention to minority
students, because of the barriers many have had to overcome and because
of the need society has for larger numbers of well-educated persons from
minority groups, is fundamentally only an extension of an important established
principle: namely, the need to think hard about every candidate's potential
contribution in the light of both what the individual is at the time of
application and what he or she may yet become.*
(*In my view there has been an unfortunate
tendency in some of the recent discussion growing out of the Bakke case
to assume that arguments pertinent to questions of admission apply without
qualification to questions of employment, and vice versa. Thinking about
admission decisions as having many of the attributes of a long-term investment
decision related to the creation of social capital has the important advantage
of suggesting some significant differences (as well as some similarities)
between admission decisions and various kinds of university employment
decisions. For example, the appointment of a postdoctoral fellow has both
some of the attributes of an admission decision (in that one is investing
in the further development of an individual's talents and thus trying
to develop more social capital for the future) and some of the attributes
of an employment decision (in that the person may be expected to contribute
immediately and directly to the achievement of a particular research result).
At the other end of the spectrum, the appointment of a senior full professor
has much less to do with the further development of an individual's talents
(though one always hopes that some further learning will occur) and much
more to do with trying to put to good use talents that have been developed
quite fully already. Of course, there are also other important differences
between admission and employment decisions, having to do with the extent
and nature of the commitment of the institution to the individual and
of the individual to the institution, the risks for both the individual
and the institution associated with having one's expectations disappointed,
and so on. My general point is simply that the questions of policy concerning
admission and the questions of policy concerning employment are both extremely
important; each deserves to be considered carefully in its own right.)
For all of the reasons given above, we have concluded, as have many other
educational institutions, that in making admission decisions at the present
time it is proper to be sensitive to the race of applicants as well as
to a great many other characteristics. For my own part, I am convinced,
firmly convinced, that this is a correct conclusion. But that is certainly
not to say that it is easily reached or that many of us, myself included,
reach it without recognizing the substantial and important considerations
that pull in the other direction.
There is a real tension, which I think should be acknowledged explicitly,
between the strong arguments in favor of being sensitive to race in admission
decisions and a deeply felt desire to be free of what is in the ultimate
sense a wrong way of distinguishing among human beings. We care finally
about what people are and can accomplish as individuals, and not primarily
about their race, sex, religion, family background, or politics. To be
sure, this is an ideal which we never live up to completely, either individually
or institutionally, but it is an ideal nonetheless. And it is largely
because of the power of this ideal, and because we are so aware of the
abuses that may follow if we depart from it, that one can certainly understand
the feelings expressed by one or my colleagues when he said: "I wish
we could wear blindfolds when we admit people."
Tempting as it may be to base policies on a vision of the world as some
of us might wish it to be, it is the present reality that we must address
as honestly and as thoughtfully as we can; and I am persuaded that, at
this juncture in our history, race is relevant. It is relevant because,
as I have tried to indicate, "wearing blindfolds" would make
it harder for us to do three important things in admission: (1) to understand
as fully as possible what the record of each applicant really represents
in the way of past achievement and future promise as a student; (2) to
attain a diversity within the student body that can affect significantly
both the quality of the immediate educational experience on the campus
and the long-term ability of people of different races to work well with
each other; and (3) to assess as thoughtfully as possible every applicant's
potential long-run contributions to the society.
The disadvantages of proceeding in this way are obvious. Any time that
we allow judgments which are inevitably subjective in more than the usual
degree to enter a process of choice, we open up the possibility of abuse
— of unwise or wrongful use of discretion. Any time that we allow
an attribute such as race to be taken into account at all, we are reminded
that too often in the past the consequence has been the arbitrary and
unfair limitation of opportunities for particular groups. Moreover, acknowledging
the propriety of taking race into account in any way can make it somewhat
harder to resist arguments that we should pay more attention to other
attributes for which at least some of the same arguments might be advanced
but for which, on balance, the case is less persuasive. Taking race into
account may also, in the short run at least, exacerbate some antagonisms
and generate a new and opposite sense of unfairness, even while contributing
to the easing of these same tensions over the long run, as we seek to
move through what many of us hope will prove to be a transition period
(though quite possibly a long and difficult one). Finally, as I have said,
any consideration of race can create a genuine moral dilemma for all of
us, of every race, who do not want to think about ourselves or others
in such terms.
Conclusions on most important issues are “on balance” conclusions,
and those who conclude, as I do, that race does need to be taken into
account in admission decisions should not be reluctant to acknowledge
the difficulties and the dangers. Indeed, awareness of the full range
of concerns is essential if we are to devise sensible methods of translating
this general conclusion into specific policies and procedures — policies
and procedures which are consistent with the purposes and particular circumstances
of each educational institution and which minimize the risk that undesirable
results will follow from good intentions.
At Princeton, it has not been our view that sensitivity to race should
lead to a quota system, and we have avoided the use of quotas at both
undergraduate and graduate levels. We have chosen not to set aside specific
numbers of places for minority students or to establish separate admission
procedures. Rather, we have made special efforts to identify and attract
minority students and we have given them some special consideration in
the general admission process, just as we have a number of other groups,
including (at the undergraduate level) applicants with artistic and athletic
abilities, and children of alumni.
While this approach to the admission of minority students does not imply
any formula for determining specific numbers (and in fact the enrollment
of minority students has fluctuated appreciably over the last decade or
so), it would be quite wrong to suggest that the numbers of those who
enroll are irrelevant or unimportant. They matter from the standpoint
of the contribution we are able to make to the society through the minority
students whom we educate. They matter too from the standpoint of our ability
to achieve important educational objectives on the campus. As we have
learned from our experience, when there are very few minority students
they are apt to feel isolated and unable to make the contributions to
the University which we hope and expect them to make; moreover, under
such circumstances, particular minority students may also feel especially
strong pressure to subordinate some of their own individuality to a perceived
need for group identification. Thus, both the importance of encouraging
all students to feel free to be themselves and the general case for diversity
argue for the desirability of attracting a large enough number of minority
students to permit a significant degree of diversity within that group
as well as within the entire student body.
At the same time, while recognizing —that for all of these reasons
numbers are significant, we believe strongly that each applicant must
be judged as an individual. This is the fundamental reason why the number
of minority students should be expected to vary somewhat as the pool of
minority applicants changes in size and quality, as other circumstances
change (including the number and quality of other applicants), and as
experience is gained in admitting and educating a student body that is
diverse along many dimensions.
It is for others to decide whether there are differences in constitutional
law between these approaches. Whatever the legal distinctions, however,
it seems seriously wrong to allow the discussion growing out of the Bakke
case to become polarized in the sense of implying that the only alternatives
are either adopting quotas based on race or being entirely insensitive
to race in making admission decisions. Indeed, in trying to achieve our
own educational objectives, we have rejected both of these positions.
Proceeding as we have — taking account of race along with many other
factors, but not through the mechanism of a separate admission procedure
geared to filling an established number of places — has seemed to
us to have two major advantages:
First, it encourages, even forces, comparisons of candidates who present
different kinds of special attributes, especially at that point in the
process when the most clear-cut admission decisions have been made, and
only a relatively small number of places remains for a relatively large
number of strong, but not clearly superior, applicants. Making comparisons
across various groups, and having them made by a single set of admission
personnel, seems fairest to all candidates. This procedure has the advantage
of directing attention on a continuing basis to the whole set of considerations
that seem relevant in the admission process — and doing so in as
consistent a way as possible.
The second advantage of this procedure is, in my judgment, at least as
important: It makes clear to the minority students, as to all other students,
that everyone who has been admitted has been part of a single admission
process, carried out by a single admission staff. An important reason
for having a diverse student body is to encourage people who are different
from each other to learn from each other and to do so with mutual respect.
Any process that separates minority students from other students in terms
of perceived criteria or a separate process can work against this objective,
in terms of the way minority students see themselves and in terms of the
way others see them. Minority students, like all other students, should
know that they have been admitted because they have earned admission —
because they are expected to do well and to make important contributions
to the University and to the society — and not because they are the
means whereby we manage to achieve some predetermined numerical result.
In commenting on a draft of a paper I wrote some time ago on affirmative
action in employment, a friend of mine said that he thought I had failed
to state an important ultimate objective: the desirability of trying to
achieve a situation in which every individual, from every background,
felt "unselfconsciously included." That states an elusive objective,
not attainable for many people in any full sense now, no matter how hard
we strive to reach it. But for me it continues to be a phrase full of
meaning, indicative of a right direction, and suggestive of a goal worthy
of our best efforts.
William G. Bowen was president of Princeton University from 1972-1988.
He is currently president of the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation.
Permission to reprint this article must be obtained. Email paw@princeton
.edu
