Q ueen Elizabeth II passed away in her sleep on Sept. 8, 2022, following her 70-year reign as the United Kingdom’s longest serving monarch. Whether this development has been perceived as a great tragedy, a moment of indifference or a chance for criticism, it is undeniable that the Queen’s death marked the end of a relevant and long-lasting reign, the impact of which has been felt even in America. But why exactly do the Queen, and the British monarchy she represented, take up so much space in the American psyche? From “Harry Potter” and Shakespeare, to red telephone booths and the ever-romanticized British accent, the United States has wholeheartedly accepted a number of iconic symbols of British culture. While escapism and romanticization play a part in the American public’s devouring of royal drama, could there be an aspect of the British monarchy that parallels a greater American desire? The monarch is an apolitical figure who must “remain strictly neutral with respect to political matters” during their reign. Consequently, most of the monarch’s duties are merely ceremonial, and the monarchy functions as a unifier during divisive periods representing a common entity British citizens can rally around. The United Kingdom’s very identity is tied to its monarchy and historical image. The American equivalent of this kind of unifying factor could be the democratic ideals this country was founded on, but even that bedrock value is widely debated in today’s polarized political sphere. The United States and its citizens — without a monarchy to rally around — crave stability and cooperation on a national scale. This could explain the American obsession with the monarchy, but reactions to the queen’s death have been notably mixed. While some Americans have openly expressed their sadness at the Queen’s death, some have rejoiced at her death due to her complicity in colonization. With this sentiment in mind, it is important to remember that while Queen Elizabeth II did represent the U.K. during her reign, she is not solely responsible for the country’s actions and her death does not spell the end of the country’s colonial history. When looking at her reign in its totality, the Queen’s death represents the end of a historically significant reign, 67% of Americans oppose America having a monarchy. From the highly divisive American reactions to the queen’s passing, it is clear that Americans on the whole view the Queen and her Royal Family more as cultural icons than political ones. In the United Kingdom, it is considered highly inappropriate for members of the Royal Family to express political opinions. Despite the British public viewing a partisan monarch as improper, over one-third of polled Americans believe that British royals should make public political statements. The disparity between how Americans and citizens of the U.K. perceive their public figures’ politics highlights an important distinction between the two nations. In America, it is difficult to conjure a figure akin to the queen in sociocultural influence and historical precedence. Even nominally apolitical figures are politicized in the U.S., as seen with Dr. Anthony Fauci in 2020. Although Fauci’s role as chief medical officer throughout the COVID-19 pandemic was intended to offer universal advice, his opinions quickly became politically polarizing. In December 2021, Dr. Fauci’s approval rating among Democrats was 85% and just 19% among Republicans. T hough they both attempt to explain the world, religion and science are essentially opposites. Science relies on testable empirical evidence, while religion is subjective, meaning any “evidence” exists in our own minds and the writings of our ancestors — so is it truly possible for the two concepts to coexist? Coming from someone who has come to a crossroads with their faith due to a greater understanding of science, I believe the answer to this question is yes. I have always identified as a religious person. In fact, praying every night is the thing that keeps me most in touch with myself, my hopes, fears and feelings. As a pharmaceutical sciences major, however, I have found myself questioning my faith. With my expanding knowledge of science and its dependence on proof and physical evidence, having faith in something that is completely intangible has its challenges. Many stories in religious script are physically impossible; the idea of resurrection, for example. Interestingly enough, science and religion were actually unified in our country’s early history. Many writers from ancient times were considering religious and scientific questions at the same time, and did not necessarily think of them as different topics and certainly not conflicting ones. Steven Clark, professor of molecular, cellular and developmental biology at the University of Michigan, reminds us that “the modern notion of a scientific method arose among very religious people whose very religion was part of their drive to understand the natural world.” The fact of the matter is, religion and science should be appreciated both as separate entities and as interrelated concepts. There are certain questions we can answer with science, such as how viruses and diseases spread, and others we can gain insight into through religion, such as the reason why we must suffer from said viruses and diseases. In other words, the reason science exists is to help people, whereas religion exists to teach us to have the compassion to want to help people. In this way, the two concepts come together. In fact, there is an entire subject matter, bioethics, that essentially combines science with the moral frameworks that religion offers. On top of that, the idea of science itself is more indeterminate than we think, because our current knowledge of the universe is constantly changing. For example, Clark points out that recent discoveries from the James Webb Space Telescope are overturning decades of research about our galaxy structure. He elaborates on this idea: “I never say, ‘I believe in evolution,’ because saying that would not be in accordance with the scientific method. I would rather say, ‘there is a tremendous amount of experimental evidence that is consistent with our theory of evolution and no other competing theory explains this evidence as well.’” This reminds us that the scientific method is not necessarily claiming that it is the truth (though it could be), but rather helping us discover the truth. Clark drives this point home in pointing out that “inherent in the scientific method is that we are never describing the truth. We are simply describing our current best understanding of the natural world. There are no ‘truths’ in science, only our best current understanding.” Many of religion’s idiosyncrasies can be written off when we remind ourselves that religion is based in storytelling. We must acknowledge that many of the stories in scripture are from thousands of years ago. Many scholars take note of the contradictions and inconsistencies in the Bible and attribute these flaws to the idea that the Bible was likely passed down orally before being written. Word-of-mouth can be very unreliable — as we all learned as children playing the game of telephone where the statement at the end is completely different from the original one. Perhaps some of the stories we read are exaggerations of the original occurrence. This does not invalidate their significance, but simply reminds us that storytelling and framing are important. Sometimes stories are even modified as beliefs and perspectives change, much like science changes as what we discover expands. For example, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints was at odds with the United States Congress for about 40 years regarding their practice of polygamy. When the government went to seize all of the church’s assets in 1890, suddenly a vision came to then-LDS President Wilford Woodruff showing that polygamy must be stopped, or the church would perish. This spurred Woodruff to release a manifesto that banned polygamy. T his October, the Supreme Court is set to hear arguments against race-based admissions policies that could upend affirmative action. Broadly defined as a set of procedures to remedy discrimination and promote diversity, affirmative action is credited with improving access to education and employment for women and minority groups. The plaintiffs in the Supreme Court case, Students for Fair Admissions, have brought lawsuits against both Harvard University and the University of North Carolina for what they claim are admissions practices that discriminate against Asian American and white applicants. Such cases have become commonplace in the American judiciary, appearing before federal courts dozens of times. Cases against affirmative action have also come before the Supreme Court, which has largely upheld the practice. However, there is reason to believe that given the Supreme Court’s conservative makeup, affirmative action will be the latest of progressive policies to be struck down. While many universities and employers have been litigated in relation to affirmative action, the University of Michigan has arguably occupied the greatest spotlight. In 2003, U-M was sued for its affirmative action policies resulting in two cases being brought before the Supreme Court. The University won one while losing the other. Soon after in 2006, the State of Michigan voted in a referendum to uphold Proposal 2 banning affirmative action statewide and ending the University of Michigan’s policy. Eight years later, the Supreme Court again heard arguments regarding the State of Michigan’s ban on affirmative action and voted 6-2 in favor of upholding the ban. Since then, the University of Michigan has struggled to enroll minorities. Its student body in 2020 consisted of 4.3% of students identifying as Black and 6.8% identifying as Latino, largely unchanged from 2012. Despite concerted efforts to recruit Black students through outreach, such as from its special admissions office in Detroit and extensive investments numbering in the hundreds of millions of dollars, the University of Michigan has come up short. While the banning of affirmative action has certainly contributed to the University’s lack of diversity, other policies, specifically legacy admissions, have also hindered the University’s efforts. Formally established in the early 20th century, legacy admissions policies were created to protect universities’ white, wealthy and Protestant student bodies from competing with recent European and Jewish immigrants. Today, they function in much the same way, favoring the admission of white, wealthy applicants over immigrants, people of color and individuals of lower socioeconomic status. Maintaining this admissions policy thus presents two obstacles for the university. The first: continuing a practice that runs contrary to the University’s commitment to anti-racism. The second: hindering their stated goal of creating a diverse student body. Although some may be skeptical that legacy admissions could have a sizable effect on the composition of U-M’s student body, an important case study sheds light on this phenomenon. In 2014, Johns Hopkins University quietly phased out legacy admissions, citing its anti- meritocratic bias and its struggle to recruit diverse classes of students. After evaluating data from 2009 to 2019 Hopkins found that Pell Grant eligible students increased by 10%, students on financial aid increased by 20% and racial minority representation increased by 10%. For those that claim legacy admissions are integral to a university’s ability to fundraise, evidence points to the contrary. For example, during the 10-year period over which Johns Hopkins eliminated legacy admissions, its endowment actually tripled. Further concrete evidence is given by one statistical analysis that showed no causal relationship between legacy admissions and alumni donations. Another, out of the University of Michigan Law School showed that legacy admissions did not positively impact university fundraising. As an alumnus and a former legacy student, I’m proud to be a Michigan Wolverine and grateful of the education that I received at U-M. It’s the same education that I wish millions of students could access, including my own future offspring. However, my conviction is that children of alumni should be judged by their merit, not by their educational pedigree. It is time for the University and for all of us to push for this smallest of changes in order to temper the accumulation of wealth by the elite few and to promote racial and socioeconomic inclusion. As the Supreme Court prepares to hear a case that could reshape the landscape of university admissions, the University of Michigan should take a stand and eliminate its legacy policy. Joining the ranks of Johns Hopkins, Amherst, MIT and the State of Colorado would not only be an honor but would also be a continuation of the University’s work to defend affirmative action and improve the diversity of its student body. For if we’re honest, legacy admissions are affirmative action for the rich, and if affirmative action should end for the marginalized, as is likely this fall, it should certainly not exist for the privileged. Opinion Stanford Lipsey Student Publications Building 420 Maynard St. Ann Arbor, MI 48109 tothedaily@michigandaily.com Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890. PAIGE HODDER Editor in Chief JULIAN BARNARD AND SHUBHUM GIROTI Editorial Page Editors Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of The Daily’s Editorial Board. All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors. EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS Julian Barnard Brandon Cowit Jess D’Agostino Ben Davis Shubhum Giroti Devon Hesano Sophia Lehrbaum Olivia Mouradian Siddharth Parmar Rushabh Shah Nikhil Sharma Lindsey Spencer Evan Stern Anna Trupiano Jack Tumpowsky Alex Yee Quin Zapoli I’m an alum and a legacy. End legacy admissions now Wednesday, September 21, 2022 — 9 The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com From The Daily: The significance and harm of Queen Elizabeth II and the British Monarchy Can science and religion coexist? THE MICHIGAN DAILY EDITORIAL BOARD A merican democracy is in trouble. Trust in the federal government is near an all-time low, as only 19% of people trust the federal government to do the right thing most of the time, according to polling from the Pew Research Center. This concern is compounded by recent news that the Supreme Court will hear a case about the legitimacy of the independent state legislature theory — the idea that state legislatures have complete control over federal election procedures, even if state supreme courts say otherwise. This could mean state legislatures assigning electoral college votes, with no mind to what their own laws or state courts have to say on the matter. As liberals venture into a federal landscape that seems to be opposed to their interests in every way imaginable, it may be time for progressives to do what conservatives have been doing for decades: focus on winning statehouses. The Electoral College, a Supreme Court that has made enforcing the Voting Rights Act nearly impossible and the filibuster are all structural advantages that Republicans hold in our political system. In the days following Politico’s bombshell release of a draft Supreme Court opinion that was poised to overturn Roe v. Wade — the precedent that has protected the right to abortion for nearly 50 years — many Democrats were left scrambling. “Where the hell is my party?” asked California Gov. Gavin Newsom, a Democrat, at a May 5 press conference. “This a concerted, coordinated effort. And yes, they’re winning. … Let’s acknowledge that. … Where’s the counter-offensive?” These comments are even more prescient in the wake of the official Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization decision overturning Roe v. Wade. Newsom’s criticisms, though directly focusing on abortion, are widely applicable to the Democratic strategy in 2022, 2024 and beyond. Adam Jentleson, former staffer to the late Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, D-Nev., posited that Newsom’s speech “reflects a growing sense among Democratic pros that there is a leadership vacuum and no plan — short-term, long-term or otherwise — to deal with the threats we face.” President Joe Biden’s strategy for keeping Democrats in power seems to have been to pass popular, common-sense policies focused on material change in people’s lives. The Inflation Reduction Act, the American Rescue Plan and the Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act are some notable examples of this. Moderate Senate Democrats — namely Sens. Kyrsten Sinema, D-Ariz., and Joe Manchin, D-W. Va. — have consistently opposed the attempts to abolish or change the Senate filibuster to enable this transformational agenda. As of yet, Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer, D-N.Y., has been unable or unwilling to offer appropriate concessions or threats to these two red state renegades. With Congress’s failure to pass substantial voting rights and anti-gerrymandering legislation, Democrats are looking at being locked out of federal government for a decade. The first years of the Biden administration have seen an outright failure to correct the structural advantages Republicans have attained and maintained through the decades. So what is the solution for a Democrat frustrated by an unwillingness or inability of Democratic leadership to corral their own senators? Retreat to the statehouse. For decades, Democrats have been outspent and outgunned at the state legislative level. This reached its peak in 2016, when Republicans controlled 32 statehouses. Today, Republicans have unified control of 30 state legislatures, and Democrats control only 17. Haley Barbour, past Republican National Committee Chairman, described the goal as making “self-reliant state parties.” A similar guiding sentiment does not exist on the Democratic side, due in part to fundamentally different goals. There are several reasons that Democrats are less interested in state government than Republicans. Principal among those is that the GOP can accomplish many of its important priorities, such as tax cuts, gun rights, abortion restrictions, school choice, from the statehouse. Democrats, on the other hand, would have little luck enacting comprehensive immigration reform, combating climate change or passing universal health care at the state level. It’s not that these issues are too complex to be dealt with on a state level, but instead that individual states have constructed political systems that make this sort of policy-making nearly impossible. The states, once referred to by Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis as “laboratories of democracy,” are proving ineffective at actually experimenting. This isn’t because state legislators are so much more small-minded than their federal counterparts, but because most state governments are severely restricted. Take New Mexico for instance. Joe Biden won the “Land of Enchantment” by almost 11%. With a Democratic trifecta in the statehouse, an outside observer might expect New Mexico to pass policies combating poverty, drug addiction and child neglect. The reality is much more restrained. New Mexico, with a “citizen’s legislature,” wherein legislators are given a paltry per diem for lodging and have only 90 days of legislative sessions every two years, is ill-equipped to pass substantial legislation. These extremely short legislative periods don’t give lawmakers a lot of time to execute good policy; they don’t have time to take full advantage of their laboratory of democracy. JULIAN BARNARD Editorial Page Editor Read more at MichiganDaily.com Read more at MichiganDaily.com CHRISTOPH BAKER Opinion Contributor VANESSA KIEFER AND KATE WEILAND Managing Editors Federalism is failing Read more at MichiganDaily.com ANNA TRUPIANO Opinion Columnist