Keg Stands First, Politics Second
Keg Stands First, Politics Second
More merrymaking might just be the cure to divisiveness on campus.
When I was preparing to attend Columbia in the summer of 2021, I remember feeling especially concerned about what the social scene would be like. In New Orleans, my hometown, much of our identity is derived from the city’s robust collection of cultural festivities—we party a lot, and frankly things like Mardi Gras, dancing in the streets, and a notable scarcity of alcohol restrictions are really good for our sense of community. So, perhaps wishfully, I hoped that my new college would have its fair share of traditions and festivities to offer.
But to my dismay, besides the vague suggestion that Carman and EC are “party dorms” and rumors of a mythical day called Bacchanal, all I found was a slew of articles describing constant social scandals, suppression of student groups by the administration, and an overall lack of space for student gatherings. “There's no space anywhere for anything, so having fun gets pushed to the wayside,” one student said even back in 2008.
Colloquially, this was referred to as the “War on Fun,” an administrative effort to tackle on-campus partying and rowdy, rebellious student groups like the once-banished and now re-established Columbia University Marching Band (though they are no longer entirely student-run and are now totally allegiant to the administration).
There was an active resistance, however. At a Columbia College Student Council meeting in 2009, then-president George Krebs offered a response to the administration reportedly dubbing the issue of partying and alcohol consumption as “a blight on a ‘purely academic institution.’” He gave his own rallying cry, a pièce de résistance against administrative tyranny: “Student council has laid down for the administration, but it’s time again for us to take the torch.”
That was 15 years ago. Based on the state of social life now, it’s tempting to say that not much has changed. But actually, a lot has changed: The University has further consolidated power over student life, making many arbitrary decisions that affect the social scene without student input.
Seniors will remember the not-so-distant past in 2021, when even a simple gathering of friends could result in immediate academic suspension. The administration’s inclination towards repressing student events in general is still prominent today. Hosting any kind of event on Columbia-owned property requires an obnoxious amount of paperwork and adherence to strict guidelines. Take a look for yourself at the “Growing Catalog of Columbia-Wide Policies,” (yes, that’s literally what it’s called) wherein you’ll find countless pages of detailed restrictions, all adjustable at the whim of administrators. Now, consider that over 90 percent of Columbia College and Columbia Engineering students live in Columbia Housing and are thus subject to both Columbia-wide rules and dormitory rules regarding all sorts of behavior.
These types of policies have fostered a social environment with a distinct lack of engagement, and as a result the social scene has become distant, isolated, and more exclusive.
If you, say, wanted to host a sanctioned event on Columbia property, you must first be affiliated with a recognized student group and make an account with Event Management Services, a process which I can attest is far from straightforward. If you then wanted to have alcohol at that sanctioned event, (assuming Columbia even approves your request, which they won’t) you would have to ensure that only one alcoholic beverage (using standard alcohol units) per hour per guest of legal drinking age is available on site (with a sober monitor to check IDs). If you want to host something in the brownstone your organization resides in—think twice about even telling the school in the first place.
Don’t forget that “games of chance” are not allowed anywhere on Columbia property. And if you happen to be of legal drinking age and want to consume your favorite alcoholic beverage, be sure you only do it in your “contractually assigned” living areas. Drinking outdoors is a definite no-go. The worst part? This is actually one of Columbia’s more liberal policies. It took a Beastie Boys-inspired fight-for-our-right-to-party CCSC campaign before Columbia changed the policy that only allowed students to drink “alone in their bedrooms.” This is all just a small taste of Columbia’s party policy nightmare.
Older traditions, some of which originated decades ago, have begun to fizzle out because of the perception that there are too many administrative hurdles. You may have heard stories about days of yore: the fabled Orgo Night, or the First Snowball Fight, where Deantini himself was known to join in. Even our school songs are becoming obsolete—how many people even know the words to “Roar, Lion, Roar”? What if I told you that the Columbia College Alma Mater, “Sans Souci” (meaning “carefree”), is to the tune of a German drinking song?
Combine this feeling of loss and restriction with the level of controversial political activity on campus, and it is clear that Columbia’s current problem with fun is a lot more complex than a debate over alcohol policy. Many even believe that “joy is canceled,” calling into question whether we should even have fun while at college.
But, the fall semester has always felt like a time of hope and new beginnings. The smell of trees and grass always reminds us that we are lucky to have one of the greatest meeting places in all of Manhattan—a beautiful Greco-Roman campus for studying, learning, lounging, chatting, and yes, drinking. And as we prepare for a return to this campus, I think it would be quite beneficial to reevaluate our relationship with “fun” at Columbia.
I grew up with college football and state school tailgates, wearing school colors. So, perhaps it’s just the senioritis in me, but I’m really hoping for a bit of that traditional college energy this semester.
“But, Jackson, this isn’t an SEC school, this is Columbia,” I can already hear you say. “It is one of the great academic and political centers of the world!” And, you’d be right. No student came here under the pretenses that this would be a great party school. But, besides being a super serious, renowned institution, Columbia is also an extremely intense environment where political tensions run high, rhetoric gets out of hand, and constant competition can feel suffocating. Columbia is a place where it has become easy to see fellow students as adversaries rather than as peers and where friendship is often reserved for those most like us. Whether we care to admit it, our social circles have in many instances become polarizing and cliquey.
It can be daunting and confusing to navigate the rich diversity that Columbia has to offer. Furthermore, division and conflict can sometimes be productive, especially in classroom settings. But if our community is to be strong, our greater sense of identity must be rooted in something other than what makes us different.
The easiest way, in my view, to reconcile intense differences is through good old-fashioned merrymaking. Now, I’m not talking about the manufactured, programmatic fun of a dorm lounge “board game social.” These sorts of University-sanctioned events are simply not good at making thousands of diverse adults feel connected to one another. I’m talking about spontaneous midnight lawns hangouts, cramped and sweaty house parties, and a robust array of class traditions—40s on 40, Senior Nights, Primal Screams. I’m talking about wearing Pantone 292, drunkenly yelling the chorus to our fight song, and chatting about non-controversial topics like how Columbia’s football team really needs to get it together this year. It truly doesn’t matter what’s going on—as long as we’re more united by the upcoming weekend’s plans than we are divided by the current state of the world.
Don’t believe me? Share a pitcher or a bottle of wine over dinner, trash talk the administration, talk about the weather, flirt a little, hell, do a keg stand (illegal per the ALCOHOL POLICY AND REGULATIONS), and then talk politics. I promise you that the discussion of close-to-the-heart, weather-hardened beliefs will go over a lot better when you already have a foundation for friendship, even if it was found at the bottom of a bottle.
Yet, constant division is not the only obstacle facing our isolated community. We operate in a stress culture that mandates that whatever it is that we’re focusing on—be it an academic challenge, a career goal, or an activist stance—must practically consume us. We work under the assumption that we must give our all at all times if we are to achieve these goals. We slave away because “we worked so hard to get here and we don’t want to mess it up now!”
Ambition and hard work can be some of our greatest strengths, but this mentality has resulted in a depressed, anxious, and isolated student body with no sense of community. Columbia students could surely stand to benefit from an increased emphasis on downtime and communal levity. It is upsetting that the time you are most likely to run into a friend on campus is during the high-stress fifteen-minute period between classes. Whether it pertains to our academics, our politics, or even our professional lives, we must combat the pervasive need to be so serious at all times. In the words of Paul McCartney, “Hey Jude, refrain, don’t carry the world upon your shoulders!”
Once again, engaging in a little more merrymaking might just be the cure the doctor didn’t order, and we seem to already have some idea that this is true. After all, Homecoming and Bacchanal are many students’ favorite memories—two magical days when the administration turns a blind eye and thousands of students can be found discussing any and every subject on the lawns after a few bottles of wine and a bottomless mimosa tower. People get along on Bacchanal, and people are proud to be at Columbia for a different reason than its global reputation. While we don’t need a Bacchanal every weekend, most students will agree, I think, that it would be nice to have events that bring everyone together more often.
As we dawn on a new year at Columbia, I want to encourage you all to share a toast, both with friends and with people you’ve never met before. Remember that it’s okay to party, it’s okay to let loose, and it’s okay to be a little less serious about your current ambitions. I admit I am no doctor of fun, but nonetheless, here’s my prescription—it’s time to be in college again!
Mr. Cheramie is a senior studying history and Classics at Columbia College and the managing editor of Sundial.