Opinion

Don’t cross the picket line

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
10 — Wednesday, April 19, 2023 

T

his 
year, 
Ivy 
League 
universities 
received 
a 
whopping 
311,948 
applications. 
Of 
 
that 
overwhelming 
number, only 21,168 lucky students 
received a decision letter starting 
with 
“Congratulations!” 
This 
shouldn’t come as a surprise. 
With acceptance rates ranging 
from 3% to 8%, the odds aren’t 
exactly in your favor. The “Ivies,” 
as they’re commonly known, have 
always had a certain reputation. 
Although the term “Ivy League” 
wasn’t introduced until the 1950s, 
people 
have 
long 
recognized 
these eight institutions as some of 
the most sought-after programs 
in the world. As the title of Ivy 
League is synonymous with top-
notch academics and unmatched 
prestige, it’s obvious why many 
students 
share 
a 
dream 
of 
receiving an acceptance letter. But 
are these schools prided because 
they actually are the “best” or 
because their names have a certain 

ring to them?
It’s no secret that getting into 
an Ivy League school takes more 
than a stellar academic record. For 
those who truly want a chance at 
admission, the process is a high-
cost, high-stress gauntlet. A New 
York Times study found that 38 
American universities, including 
five Ivies, have more students from 
the top 1% of earners than from 
the bottom 60%, showing that 
if you want to make it to a “top” 
university you have to pay to play.
The 
2019 
admissions 
year 
revealed 
a, 
now 
well-known, 
conspiracy 
code-named 
“Operation Varsity Blues” where 
investigations found the parents 
of 33 college applicants guilty of 
bribing their kids’ way into top 
universities, including several of 
the Ivy League schools. When 
people are willing to take such 
extreme measures to secure their 
kids a college acceptance letter, 
it begs a question: Is going to an 
Ivy League college really that 
much better? The obvious answer 
is of course. Ivy League schools 
offer 
top 
academic 
programs 

coupled with extensive alumni 
networks. Yet, so do tons of other 
public universities, one being the 
University of Michigan. The thing 
that the Ivy League schools are 
offering that other universities 
aren’t is the honor attached to their 
name, maintaining superiority in 
title only. 
Unlike many other applicants, 
the 
University’s 
elite 
athletic 
program wasn’t a huge factor in 
my decision to apply. While I’ve 
always played sports and regularly 
attended 
my 
high 
school’s 
sporting events, I had never been 
particularly involved in college 
sports. But from the moment I 
walked into the Big House for 
the first time, I was hooked. 
Although the term “Ivy League” 
did originate as the title for a D1 
NCAA athletic conference, nobody 
does sports quite like the Big Ten or 
the SEC. Seeing the streets of Ann 
Arbor flooded with maize and blue 
on game day is a tradition unlike 
any other and football isn’t the only 
sport worthy of mention. If you 
haven’t attended a hockey game 
at Yost Ice Arena, it might shock 

you to know there is often a line of 
students eagerly waiting outside 
the arena doors over an hour 
before puck drop. With a lot of U-M 
sports being highly competitive, it 
leads the way to a highly involved 
student fanbase, something that 
you tend to see less of at Ivy League 
schools.
But if it is academics you’re after, 
again, an Ivy League school might 
not be your best bet. U.S. News — the 
gold standard for college rankings 
— recently found the University of 
Chicago’s Booth Business School to 
be the best business school in the 
nation, ranked over both UPenn’s 
Wharton and Harvard’s business 
program. This is not to discredit 
the Ivy League schools in any way 
but simply to illustrate that there 
are other programs comparable 
to them in terms of academic 
rigor and excellence. Although 
admissions may be more selective, 
upon entrance, academic standards 
and class difficulty aren’t all that 
different from other programs. It’s 
not uncommon to see Ivy League 
graduates holding high positions 
in American society — for instance, 

seven of the nine members of 
the 
Supreme 
Court 
attended 
undergrad at one of the Ivies. 
However, it’s not because they 
were taught any differently from 
the students at other universities.
With that said, there is an 
argument to be made for attending 
a university in your state. The cost 
of out-of-state tuition can range 
anywhere from double to even 
triple that of your in-state school. 
And while you might be expected to 
make more by graduating from any 
Ivy, that money isn’t guaranteed 
— the money you’ll owe in student 
loans is. If you can receive a 
relatively similar education but at 
a significantly reduced cost, why 
wouldn’t you? It’s understandable 
to want a fresh start or to want a 
change of scenery, but if you have 
an in-state school comparable to 
the one you’re applying to out of 
state — again, take the University 
of Michigan, for example — surely 
you can put up with the harsh 
winters for a few more years.
In 
the 
end, 
the 
prestige 
associated with Ivy Leagues isn’t 
going away anytime soon and 

they’ll most likely maintain their 
elite status for many years to come. 
However, we can change the way 
that we view other seemingly 
“lesser” programs. According to 
the U.S. Department of Education, 
“a college degree is the surest 
way to economic strength and 
stability,” but which university 
signs your degree is less important 
than simply having a diploma. So 
why not look at the four years we 
spend as undergraduates as a time 
to enjoy the community that we 
are a part of rather than viewing it 
simply as a means of jump-starting 
our careers?
Those who are accepted into the 
Ivy League schools might appear 
to be the “winners” in the college 
admissions competition, but they 
definitely don’t have it all. They’ll 
never get the thrill of rushing the 
field after their football team beats 
The Ohio State University in one of 
sports’ biggest rivalries and they’re 
missing out on some of the best 
parts of college that an Ivy League 
ticket can’t deliver. 

Rethinking college rankings: Why they don’t tell the whole story

TEA SANTORO
Opinion Columnist

I 

currently 
have 
more 
than 900 connections on 
LinkedIn. 
Realistically, 
I probably only know about 200 
of them. On a weekly basis, my 
inbox is inundated with emails 
urging me to accept “invitations 
to connect” with strangers and to 
explore the profiles of our mutual 
connections — and I hate it. 
In comparison to other social 
media 
platforms, 
LinkedIn 
masks 
its 
toxicity 
under 
a 
guise of “professionalism” and 
“executive 
development.” 
An 
article published by The Guardian 
accurately describes the ordeal 
as “a giant, living, breathing 
resume, 
complete 
with 
bad 
formatting, plasticised optimism 
and synthetic relationships.” It 
weaponizes productivity, trapping 
its users in an endless cycle of 
networking. 
And 
with 
more 
than 300,000 job applications 
submitted on the platform every 
hour, 
LinkedIn’s 
propagation 
of this serial professionalism 
appears to be far from slowing 
down. 
Similar to other social media 
sites, 
LinkedIn 
hinges 
upon 
branding 
and 
self-promotion. 
The 
platform 
leverages 
the 
same damaging tendencies of 
self-comparison, 
but 
through 
the 
misleading 
rhetoric 
of 
professional 
development 
and 
career advancement. It offers 
substantial 
opportunities 
for 
users to inflate their credentials 
and 
present 
an 
exaggerated 
or misleading image of their 
qualifications. A recent study 
found that more than one-third 

of 
LinkedIn 
users 
fabricate 
certain details in their profiles. 
These falsified details can prove 
especially damaging to the mental 
state 
of 
users, 
perpetuating 
feelings of imposter syndrome 
and 
complacency. 
The 
site’s 
resulting domain emerges as a 
warped professional hierarchy, 
where profile connections and 
skills function as points to keep 
score. 
This 
overwhelming 
user 
experience is not uncommon for 
the average university student. 
With more than 199 million 
members 
and 
counting, 
the 
United States currently ranks 
as the country with the highest 
number of LinkedIn users. More 
than 59.1% of LinkedIn’s user base 
is composed of people ranging in 
age from their mid-20s to early-
30s, particularly recent college 
graduates. A common affliction 
for this age bracket is career 
uncertainty, which makes them 
even more vulnerable to self-
doubt and insecurity. 
“I 
probably 
spend 
around 
three to five hours on the 
app per week,” said Andrew 
Van Baal, an LSA sophomore 
studying Environmental Science. 
“Scrolling through the endless 
feed of achievements definitely 
creates 
a 
bit 
of 
imposter 
syndrome.” 
Recent studies have revealed 
nearly half of LinkedIn’s users 
as prone to these feelings of 
negativity, 
evidence 
that 
the 
effects of the app’s toxic hustle 
culture is experienced by the bulk 
of users. Despite these sentiments, 
however, many individuals feel 
that LinkedIn is harder to ‘quit’ 
than traditional social media. 
With nearly 85% of jobs currently 

being filled through networking, 
LinkedIn’s web of connectivity 
is getting progressively harder to 
escape.
This 
perceived 
necessity 
of 
LinkedIn as a “job search assist” 
has become the gold standard of 
the app’s interface, trapping users 
in an endless scroll under the 
veil of professional development. 
Correspondingly, 
LinkedIn’s 
revenue increased by 26.2% in 2022, 
currently resting at a cool $14.5 
billion. The platform’s reliance on 
monetizing user data and leveraging 
connections to generate profits 
results in a direct commodification 
of 
interpersonal 
relationships. 
Ads and sponsored content are 
also designed to match users’ job 
aspirations, causing even the pursuit 
of career ambitions to be exploited 
as an opportunity for profit. 
However, as is the case with 
most social media, the problem 
does not lie exclusively in the app’s 
interface itself, but also in the way 
users engage with it. Platforms 
like LinkedIn have blurred the 
boundaries between professional 
and personal domains, guilting 
individuals 
into 
engaging 
in 
business relations outside of the 
office for fear of “falling behind.” 
Consequently, the daily use of 
work-related apps like LinkedIn 
is eclipsing what we consider 
as leisure time. The statistics 
corroborate this reality, with three-
quarters of Americans reporting 
symptoms of burnout in their jobs. 
Currently, 
the 
United 
States has one of the longest 
workweeks 
in 
the 
world. 
Job unhappiness among the 
American working class is also 
currently at an all time high. 

LinkedIn is the worst form of 
social media: Here’s why 

TATE MOYER
Opinion Columnist 

Design by AJ Nieto

N

oted education author 
and 
activist 
James 
Murphy argued in a 
recent op-ed for the Chronicle 
of Higher Education, “You can’t 
drive social mobility if you don’t 
enroll poor people.”
The University of Michigan’s 
Ann 
Arbor 
campus 
enrolls 
half of the proportion of Pell-
eligible students — that is, lower-
income students — compared 
to the regional campuses in 
Dearborn and Flint. In fact, 
U-M Dearborn, where 44% of 
students are Pell-eligible, is one 
of the most successful in the 
nation at promoting economic 
mobility. 
Despite 
representing 
significantly 
more 
low-income 
students, the University’s central 
administration 
significantly 
underinvests in U-M Dearborn 
and U-M Flint students. In fact, 
U-M Ann Arbor students are 
provided almost four times the 
resources as U-M Dearborn and 
U-M Flint students.
Austerity at U-M Flint and U-M 
Dearborn prevents the University 
from realizing a positive vision 

of inclusion by institutionalizing 
class and race inequalities. Like 
individuals, 
organizations 
can 
engage in behavior that has racist, 
classist or discriminatory impact. 
Organizations can, inadvertently 
or sometimes deliberately, adopt 
policies, budgets and rules that 
systematically 
disadvantage 
people 
of 
some 
backgrounds 
relative to others. 
U-M Ann Arbor campus leaders 
have a responsibility to monitor 
their policies and rules to make 
certain that they do not have 
discriminatory 
impacts. 
This 
work has yet to be accomplished. If 
the administration chooses not to 
do so, our democratically elected 
Board of Regents must step up.
Yet, the regents have taken no 
action to suggest they understand 
the 
profoundly 
discriminatory 
nature of the current model. U-M 
Dearborn and U-M Flint enroll 
proportionally 
more 
working-
class students, first-generation 
students and students of Color 
than 
U-M 
Ann 
Arbor. 
And 
despite the profound efficacy of a 
college education for low-income 
students, the University’s recent 
review of its diversity, equity and 
inclusion audit, DEI 1.0, failed to 
mention students from regional 
campuses.

Leadership will say that each 
campus has its own plan. But 
like everything else, DEI at 
U-M Dearborn and U-M Flint is 
underfunded and under constant 
strain. It seems like the central 
administration thinks of us as 
one university when they are 
touting their diversity statistics in 
a recent affirmative action amicus 
brief, but excludes the highly 
diverse regional student bodies 
in DEI outreach, programming, 
benchmarking and reporting.
Through a budget model that 
under-resources 
low-income 
students, the University enables 
inequity and is failing at its 
espoused DEI mission. It is 
undermining 
its 
responsibility 
as a state-founded and funded 
institution, creating a culture that 
is hypocritical and imperiling the 
University’s ethos of inclusivity. 
This system of inequitable 
funding has also imposed a regime 
of permanent austerity on the 
Dearborn and Flint campuses. 
Liberal arts classes and programs 
that fulfill an essential part of 
the University’s mission are cut. 
University President Santa Ono 
has said that an education without 
the liberal arts is “a danger to 
humanity.” And yet, these cuts 
reduce such vitally important 

educational options for students, 
perpetuating a vicious circle of 
declining 
enrollment, 
falling 
revenues and further rounds of 
cuts.
The 
U-M 
Flint 
and 
U-M 
Dearborn have been closing their 
liberal arts-centered programs 
— 
notably, 
Africana 
Studies 
at U-M Flint — and shrinking 
others, preventing students from 
majoring in these disciplines. 
Closing programs, cutting classes 
required for majors and reducing 
the number of times that classes 
are available reduces student 
enrollment. Enrollment at the 
Flint campus has been falling for 
some years now, reinforcing a 
vicious circle of austerity. If you 
don’t build it, they won’t come.
Why 
is 
austerity 
across 
campuses not more equally shared 
if equity is a U-M value? The 
truth is that austerity is imposed 
by policy, not a lack of resources. 
Every 
year, 
the 
University 
generates a large enough surplus 
of 
income 
through 
operating 
expenses to easily provide U-M 
Flint and U-M Dearborn with the 
extra resources they need without 
cuts to U-M Ann Arbor programs.
An equitable budget might 
include $15 million per campus 
per year to pay for the full-

fledged U-M Ann Arbor version 
of the Go Blue Guarantee for U-M 
Dearborn and U-M Flint students, 
and leave substantial sums on 
both campuses to pay for student 
support programs and needed 
improvements in faculty and staff 
compensation. This $30 million 
could come from surplus revenue 
and would not need to come out of 
the U-M Ann Arbor General Fund 
budget.
There are other ways in which 
that money might be distributed 
more evenly. To give some sense of 
orders of magnitude, $30 million 
would be just 1.2% of U-M Ann 
Arbor’s 2022-23 General Fund 
expenditures. Living up to its DEI 
principles, central administration 
should make such changes in its 
next budget and commit to these 
transfers of funds unless and 
until increases in other revenue 
streams 
make 
such 
transfers 
unnecessary — that is, if equity is 
achieved when U-M Dearborn and 
U-M Flint students are no longer 
subject to austerity.
This budget would also make 
up for the Ann Arbor campus’s 
current practice of admitting half 
of its students from out of state. 
A growing population of out-
of-state 
students 
compromises 
the 
campus’s 
mission 
as 
a 

state university. However, the 
underfunded 
Dearborn 
and 
Flint campuses could pick up the 
slack, bolstering the University’s 
value to the state. They run on 
shoestrings in constant crisis 
mode even as their student bodies 
support the diversity that the 
central administration allegedly 
values. How is the current culture 
not discriminatory?
When talking about DEI 1.0, 
Ono said, “Institutions have to be 
committed to continuous, positive 
momentum. It’s important for 
me to show I’m behind DEI 1.0 
to make sure when we embark 
on DEI 2.0 as an institution, 
we do so with even more vigor, 
determination and support.”
We agree with Ono. Diversity, 
equity 
and 
inclusion 
at 
the 
University should be vigorous, 
determined and supported. But 
moving forward, DEI initiatives 
should 
include 
revitalized 
resources for U-M Dearborn and 
U-M Flint students. Self-imposed 
austerity 
on 
the 
University’s 
regional campuses is stressful 
for its students, faculty and staff, 
making teaching and learning 
more difficult and degrees harder 
to pursue and enjoy. Without a 
new budget model, authentic DEI 
is not possible. 

There can be no DEI without UMich Dearborn and Flint

LIZ ROHAN, DAILLE HELD & 
ANDREW THOMPSON
Opinion Contributors 

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

Read more at MichiganDaily.com