Editor’s Note: It’s Morning at Stanford

As higher education wages an existential fight, Stanford is oddly calm. Our protests are minimal and respectable compared to years past. In accordance with Stanford tradition, the freshmen seem less concerned with any form of political agenda and more with their startups. As we enter spring, campus has been enveloped in warmth, and the “hello spirit” of Stanford old has begun to shine through.

This even extends to class. Last quarter I took former Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice and Hoover Senior Fellow Stephen Kotkin’s ‘Global Futures’ class. What struck me most was the experience I had in the discussion section. Students both far left and right, isolationist and globalist, were able to debate geopolitics in a reasonable and friendly manner for an hour each week. Certainly, this was a welcome change from past experiences, such as when students silenced their professor’s ability to teach freely. 

Stanford, perhaps due to its western location, away from the tumult of the East Coast, or its historic openness to new ideas, seems to be healing from a period where speech was stifled and nonconformist ideas were thrown by the wayside.

But we cannot take these small steps of progress as permanent. As anyone who has walked a city street at night knows, the most unsettling sound is silence. One former Review editor put it best: “The great risk of Stanford’s transformation is that students become bored of talking just as the university opens its ears.” 

The fight is not over. The shouting down of invited speakers, the metastasis of administrative bloat, and ideological bias in the classroom are living realities, not distant memories. The Review must remain vigilant, continuing to call out these pathologies and to push for genuine reform. Yet even as we criticize, we should also recognize the opportunity: The university is listening. That moment of openness is rare, and it must be met with clarity, courage, and seriousness of purpose.

For much of its history, our publication has drawn its purpose from being a dissenting voice against the dominant trends in academia and found strength by resisting the increasingly progressive tilt of Stanford and its peer institutions. From the era of the ‘Rainbow Agenda’ to today, the Review’s contrarian stance has often aligned with a conservative perspective.

Now, as the edifice of progressive orthodoxy begins to rot under its own contradictions, the Review must reassert itself as a home for independent thought in all forms. Our mission, first set down thirty-eight years ago, remains unchanged: to present alternative views, foster rational debate, and challenge those who disagree with us. In a time when too many remain quiet, that mission is more vital than ever.

When I think of the task the Review has laid out in front of it, I often think of a line from Virgil’s Aeneid: “The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way; But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.” 

The Review will continue to stand for independent thought while pushing Stanford to be the best university it can be; this is our mighty labor. Morning is coming at Stanford, and we will do our part to make sure our university has its day in the sun.

I would like to thank my incredible predecessor, Julia Steinberg, for leading an impactful and important volume. I would also like to extend my gratitude to the entire staff of the Review: my Executive Editor Teddy Ganea, my Managing Editor Elsa Johnson, Dylan Rem, Aadi Golchha, Tom Adamo, Garret Molloy, Hristo Todorov, Gordy Sun, and Sloane Wehman. I am profoundly excited to work with all of them to continue to improve on the Review’s legacy of contrarian thought and leadership. Our team and the broader Review community are what has allowed us to ensure that “the Stanford Review is here to stay,” not just now, but for decades to come. 

If you have any interest in having your ideas challenged, left or right, Democrat or Republican, our meetings are at 7 pm on Mondays in Old Union room 215—I hope to see you there.