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Wednesday, February 6, 2008 - The Michigan Daily 5B

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Without ef
preference!
By Karl Stampfl I Dai
n Justice Clarence Thomas' dissent from the 2003
Supreme Court decision that upheld the Univer-
sity of Michigan Law School's affirmative action
policies, he wrote, "Were the court to have the
courage to forbid the use of racial discrimination
in admissions, legacy preferences (and similar practices)
might quickly become less popular."
In other words, if there's no more affirmative action,
then the practice of giving preferences to the children of
alumni would get a lot more attention - most of it nega-
tive. That's what has happened elsewhere. Legacy prefer-
ence have been eliminated at state institutions in Georgia,
where racial preferences were banned by a court ruling in
2001, and in California, where a ballot initiative outlawed
them in 1996. Why? Because administrators and over-,
sight boards decided that if they couldn't give admissions
preferences to underrepresented minorities, they should
at least stop giving preferences to a group that is largely
privileged and white: the children of alumni.
Texas A&M University - another public school that
doesn't use affirmative action and, as a result, has cut its
legacy preferences -- is an especially interesting case. A
2004 Houston Chronicle investigation found that for the
2002 admissions year, the school accepted 324 students
who would have been rejected without the benefit of leg-
acy. Here's the unseemly statistic: Of those students, 321
were white and only three were black.
It makes sense that legacy is a pretty good proxy for
being white. Even at the University of Michigan - which
only ramped up its affirmative action programs a cou-

firmative action, is it time to re-examine legacy
il s?
ily Staff Writer

ple of decades ago - alumni are still largely members
of racial and ethnic groups that are overrepresented in
higher education. Having had a world-class education,
they are also more likely to provide their children with
expensive standardized test preparation courses, quality
high schools in safe neighborhoods and the many other
educational benefits that come
from being born into an affluent ,U o jf.
family. U Of f (
But legacy preferences -
which are nearly unquestionably don't ever
legal - also have at least two
legitimate purposes. First, they the st a ti
cultivate a sense of community
among alumni (translation: we n e cess ar
take care of you and yours - even
after you've left campus). Sec- have an h
ond, they increase alumni giving
(translation: we takecare of you debate o
and yours - if you take care of us
and ours). ]u bie
Mainly for the second reason,
the presidents of Ivy League uni-
versities have openly defended legacy preferences as a
necessary evil. Basically, universities trick alumni into
believing that their generosity to the school will help their
children or grandchildren, and this results in a boost to
the endowment, which is in turn used to increase things
like academic quality and financial aid for students from
less affluent backgrounds (those who don't benefit from

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legacy preferences). Plus, it wouldn't be fair to cut legacy
preferences just as alumni were getting more diverse.
So, perhaps because they were comfortably offset by
affirmative action, legacy preferences have been allowed
to exist without much public acrimony. This was the
case at the University of Michigan, where the admis-
sions boost for a largely underprivileged
group (those who benefit from affirmative
a I S action) strongly outweighed the boost for
a largely overprivileged group (those who
keep benefit from legacy). It was a tenuous bal-
ance, but it seemed to work. Then the vot-
t CS ers passed Proposal,2, banning affirmative
action in state public institutions, includ-
ry to ing the University of Michigan. That was
in November of 2006. Just over a year
one st later, racial preferences are gone, but leg-
acy preferences remain. Why?
n the When asked via e-mail whether Uni-
versity of Michigan administrators have
considered eliminating legacy preferences
in the wake of Proposal 2, spokeswoman
Kelly Cunningham made the answer clear.
"No," she said. Have they seriously considered doing so
in the last five years? "No." Cunningham wasn't being
impolite; she was being absolute. .
At the University, legacy is a small consideration in
the holistic application review process, which takes into
account a large swath of factors. Cunningham said the
effect is "negligible" and not a "critical factor."

In the world of college admissions, simple terms can
carry a lot of complex meaning (see "critical mass" and
"quota system"). "Negligible" and "critical" are two
of those. It's unclear exactly what they mean because
- unlike many of its peer universities - the University
of Michigan doesn't compile data on the effects of legacy
admissions.
In the Ivy League and at other private schools, legacy
appears to play alarge role.At Ivies, those with legacy gen-
erally make up between 10 and 15 percent of the student
body. At the University of Notre Dame, about 25 percent
of enrolled students are legacies. At Harvard University,
about one-third of legacies are admitted, while the over-
all acceptance rate is only just over 10 percent.
Using those numbers to approximate the number of
legacies at the University of Michigan likely isn't accu-
rate, though. A better gauge is the admissions rubric
used before the Supreme Court struck down the College
of Literature, Science and the Arts' use of a point system
in 2003.
Under the infamous point system, alumni parents or
stepparents were worth four points and grandparents,
siblings or spouses were worth one. Students couldn't be
awarded both. Even if you had four generations of Uni-
versity of Michigan alumni in your family, they could still
only yield up to four points.
To put that into context, the total number of possible
points was 150. In most years, getting about 100 put you
in good shape for admission to LSA and about 130 for the
College of Engineering. GPA was the largest factor (a

4.0 was worth 80 points). Underrepresented minoriti
received 20 points, and Michigan residents received 1
The essay - those who labored over them in that era w
be unhappy to read this - was worth only up to three.
Judging how important legacy was - and, by exte
sion, is - depends on how you look at the rubric. F
example, standardized test scores were worth up to]
points. Let's say you scored in the 22-to-26 range on tc
ACT and received 10 points for it. Having an alumni pa
ent would give you the equivalent of scoring between
and 36 and then some. That's a big jump. But a logic
examination of the rubric shows that legacy was a rel
tively small edge.
So if it doesn't really make that much of a diffe
ence, why is it on the application at all? Could it be th
although legacy doesn't play a big factor in admission
a lot of alumni still think it does and thus are inspired1
donate?
Cunningham claims that's not the case. While no tel
ing data is compiled in this area either, Cunningham sa
legacy preferences don't really increase alumni giving.
"Generous giving and active involvement with tI
University is seen also among alumni whose childr
have been denied admission," she said. "There is no tac
or explicit quid pro quo."
But leaders at other institutions have admitted that tc
endowment boon is a big part of why they consider leg
cy. It's hard to see how the University of Michigan is di
ferent. A recent study of an anonymous college studied 1
Jonathan Meer, a Stanford University graduate econon

es ics student and Economics Prof. Harvey Rosen of Princ-
0. eton University shows that alumni with children were 13
ill percentage points more likely to give. In the study, that
percentage went up as the kids got closer to applying,
n- took a hit around age 14 if they decided not to apply and
or went up by about 18 to 25 percentage points a few years
12 later if they did decide to apply.
he Cunningham said the University of Michigan uses leg-
r- acy preferences to show graduates that they're supported
31 even after they leave campus. "Legacy consideration in
al admissions acknowledges the intrinsic and ongoing rela-
a- tionship between the University and our alumni, a rela-
tionship that is respected and highly valued," she said,
r- echoing the explanation written in the current admis-
at sions guidelines. Certainly that's part of it, but despite
is, the official line, it's difficult to believe that the risk of los-
to ing donations is not a key reason.
And without data it's impossible to know for sure
11- either way.
id University officials say they don't collect the data
because it would take a lot of time from an already
he stretched admissions staff - and because it's not a "per-
en tinent" issue, as Cunningham said.
it But since Proposal 2 ravaged affirmative action and
left legacy alone (why the Michigan Civil Rights Initia-
he tive, with all its talk of a meritocracy, made that choice is
a- a subject for another article), it will soon become a hot-
if- ter topic on campus. It already is in the political world.
by Former Democratic vice presidential candidate John
a- Edwards criticized it as a "birthright out of 18th-century

I


British aristocracy." Even President George Bush, one of
the country's premiere benefactors of legacy preferences,
has called for its end. Many others on both sides of the
partisan divide have done the same.
The time for a good debate on campus is nigh. The
current legacy practices certainly go against a public
college's mission to act as an agent of public mobility.
And, most important, it wouldn't be unreasonable to call
legacy preferences racist on some level.
Why won't University of Michigan administrators
examine them critically with all the facts in front of
them? After all, this is a university, and a public one at
that. One of its ideals is open discussion about what it
does and why it does it. Any dialogue like that would
include statistics from the admissions office as well as
candor from top administrators.
Maybe it's because just having that serious discus-
sion would endanger some level of alumni donations.
It could anger deep-pocketed grads, and that's no small
matter. As state funding has declined severely over the
last decade, the University of Michigan has had to rely
more and more on its endowment. University President
Mary Sue Coleman has staked much of her reputation
on fundraising, including the successful Michigan Dif-
ference campaign that raised $2.5 billion. It has paid
off. The $7.1-billion endowment is stronger than ever,
throwing off a 25-percent return last year.
So why endanger all of that? Unless forced in the
court of public opinion, it doesn't look like the admin-
istration will.

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