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Khoa Sands ‘26
Elite academia has been dominated by the question of free speech and free expression over the past year. 2024 has seen the explosion of pro-Palestine campus protests, throwing institutions into disarray. At Harvard, UCLA, Columbia, and other universities, administrators struggled to respond as activists occupied campus and harassed other students. Scenes of chaotic fighting at UCLA were played on televisions across the country.
While Princeton had our own small encampment, we avoided the chaos that beset many of our peer institutions. While the encampment was still deeply wrong – both in its political goals and the means by which they conducted their protest – it was relatively tame. This was not due to a lack of enthusiasm on the issue of Palestine – quite the contrary. Rather, it is a phenomenon that afflicts all aspects of political life on campus. Princetonians seem to be an apathetic bunch if you measure passion by protest. A Daily Princetonian project on activism from last Spring purports to tackle “the timeless question of apathy at Princeton.” Put simply, it’s a known fact that "nothing ever happens at Princeton.”
Why? It is not that the student body at Princeton is more overwhelmingly conservative than peer institutions (despite the outsized presence of conservative institutions on campus) nor that Nassau Hall is uniquely hostile to activism. I believe the answers are far more mundane. Rather than any institutional suppression of ideological homogeneity, Princeton’s compressed schedule and isolated locale are the primary reasons why Princeton remains a relatively uneventful campus.
Princeton has a reputation as one of the more rigorous Ivies. A large part of this is due to our compressed schedule. We have very short 12-week semesters, while the average college semester is around 15 weeks. At Princeton, you simply cannot fall behind. The fast pace of academic life often forces students to choose between academics and activism. This culture of academic rigor is the subject of frequent criticism in the pages ofThe Daily Princetonian often because of its effect on campus activism.
However, what I believe is the largest and most overlooked factor in the lack of activism and protest is the township itself. A college’s culture is deeply influenced by the surrounding locale. Part of the allure of Columbia University is the city of New York, UC Berkeley bleeds into Berkeley and vice versa, and so on. In contrast, Princeton is a small, quiet town with few distractions or opportunities for large-scale engagement beyond campus life. Its secluded nature creates the (in)famous “Orange Bubble”, fostering a campus culture more inwardly focused than that of urban universities. Unlike schools situated in bustling cities, Princeton lacks the external stimuli that might spur student activism—such as protests spilling over from nearby communities, partnerships with local organizations, or the sheer visibility that comes with being in a metropolitan hub.
The subdued environment of Princeton township creates a subdued environment for activism, especially combined with the academic rigor of Princeton. This does not mean Princeton students are less thoughtful or engaged with the world’s pressing issues, it does mean that the campus is less likely to erupt into the kinds of dramatic scenes witnessed at peer institutions. Our unique mix of intensity and isolation ensures that its political life here will continue to diverge from the tumultuous landscapes of other campuses.
This is not a weakness, but a strength of Princeton’s culture. While small college-town life may feel stifling at times, it forces us to focus for these four years before we enter the world with more mature and astute perspectives. We should celebrate our Orange Bubble, where activism can take quieter, more intellectual forms, such as debates, lectures, or written commentary, rather than loud protests or physical occupations. Princeton may seem quiet without the loud ostentatiousness that so often characterizes college life but our campusis lively enough; that dynamism is expressed in the halls of Firestone, the pages of the Prince, and at Eating Club dining halls instead of Cannon Green. It’s not that nothing ever happens in Princeton – you just have to look closely to notice.
Khoa Sands ‘26 is the Editor-in-Chief of the Princeton Tory, the Vice President of the American Whig-Cliosophic Society, and the Vice President of the Princeton Human Forum.
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In a few minutes, all of you will walk out of this stadium as newly minted graduates of this University. Before you do, however, long-standing tradition permits the University president to offer a few remarks about the path that lies ahead.
In having a truly diverse group of students share their perspectives, Princeton makes known that there exists a home for every viewpoint. However, as much as I believe this claim to be true, there are unfortunately those who do not. It is easy to dismiss the Princeton administration and culture as entirely polarizing and ideologically biased. In fact, it is true that many here hold the same dominant perspective . But to focus on this fact alone, to rest our entire judgement on one such observation, runs the dangerous risk of neglecting the clear and persistent efforts of this University to encourage every student—even the conservative ones—to share the beliefs that he or she so earnestly pursues.
On April 15, I had the pleasure of hosting, on behalf of the Cliosophic Society, Ambassador John Bolton at Princeton’s Nassau Inn for a discussion entitled “The Room Where It Happened: National Security Decisions Under Pressure.” Bolton’s legacy as a leading professional in American foreign policy offered more than a glimpse behind the diplomatic curtain; it invited a critical examination of the processes and personalities that have shaped recent American engagement with the world.
