Published by the Students of Johns Hopkins since 1896
April 20, 2024

The stagnant state of the student’s soul

By LOUIS ROSIN | April 9, 2015

Hopkins, as far as I can tell, is not a particularly cheery place. Despite the best efforts of student life groups to combat the dour presence with free hugs and pumpkin smashings, the source of this cultural campus malaise has deep-rooted seeds.

To what can we attribute this pervasive melancholy, which hampers the ostensible peaks in these undergraduate students’ lives?

Hopkins has all the makings of an upstanding undergraduate experience, fine facilities, excellent academics, a “beach” at the entrance of campus and to top it all off, it lies smack in the middle of Charm City. With all of these positive attributes, why are the vibrations as brusque as a basic white guy mistakenly buying bath salts?

Hopkins is a renowned research institution; the university’s innovations and contributions to society are immense. It is the largest private employer in Baltimore, and Hopkins buildings spot the city’s brick and mortar skyline. The University is as central to the ethos of Baltimore as, dare I say, Old Bay.

However, the majority of this acclaim and laud rests squarely upon the shoulders of the Hopkins School of Medicine and its other reputable graduate programs, leaving the undergraduate experience to be something of an afterthought.

While pre-med and engineering students can participate in unparalleled research opportunities, the majority of pre-meds do not get accepted into Hopkins Med. Furthermore, this does affect the remaining Krieger students, whom constitute 60-plus percent of the population.

The resulting consequence of such a dichotomy leads to a pervading undergraduate sentiment devoid of passion. Hopkins students are proud of what the school’s name represents about their achievements.

It has cache value; “I go to Johns Hopkins,” in one’s most pretentious cadence, rolls nicely off the tongue. However, we, as an undergraduate body, take no pride in the quotidian reality that manifests in our college experience.

For example, we take no passion in our social culture. This is not some diatribe against the administration nor a frivolous gambit to get frat parties reinstated, but a genuine plea for students to make an active effort to have fun. I’m aware that we are not a state school, but we do have resources at hand, a campus, a city, booze, brews and fun-seeking youths.

The missing link, the thing holding us back as a community, is a collective will, this elusive passion.

Nobody takes pride in our sports teams, nobody tailgates and Brody consistently draws the largest weekend crowds. We have to hold ourselves accountable, to some degree, if we want things to change.

Similarly, we take no passion in our political culture. For an elite institution, Hopkins is incredibly politically ambivalent. Yes, we have organizations such as the MSE Symposium, etc. that assemble functions with reputable speakers, yet these are entirely lacking in political fervor; they are perfunctory societies that are inherent to any university of such caliber as ours.

While there are some feminist gatherings in protest of rape culture and such, there is scarcely any activism surrounding issues that do not directly impact the Hopkins community.

There is a distinct dearth of global consciousness, or rather activism, on campus. There are more protests held by Baltimore residents on North Charles Street than by Hopkins students, an absurd reality. I believe this is self-actualizing and stems from our general sense of despondency.

Lastly, we take no passion in our city. Hopkins students hold a fundamental antipathy toward Baltimore. While it is undoubtedly not a metropolis like New York or Los Angeles — and  it even lacks the “charm” of smaller cities such as Austin — it is not the boondocks either. This blanket aversion to Baltimore is unwarranted and is counterproductive.

Baltimore is a city full of culture, cuisine and art (and heroin) (just kidding, kind of). Also, if Baltimore is truly unbearable, D.C. is always an hour away on the MARC train.

I truly believe that there is a collective sense of unconsciousness unique to all places; and right now ours is toxic.

This is not an irreparable situation; through communal will and effort, we can mitigate our circumstances and even find the passion that I am confident dwells inside each one of us.


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