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Culture War Roundup for the week of September 30, 2024

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I will read the full linked set of Substacks because I am fascinated by elite formation and think it is an underrated factor in the success or failure of societies, but some quick comments from a British perspective - I live in the UK on the fringes of the "traditional-elite" upper and upper-middle class culture that is our equivalent of the culture Bama Rush is part of.

  1. The underlying dynamic of Bama recruiting out-of-state students who can't get into Vanderbilt any more definitely exists. Most Oxbridge rejects go to other academically elite universities that are almost but not quite as selective (UCL, LSE, Imperial, Warwick for maths, etc.) but there is a group of universities (Bristol, Durham, Exeter, St Andrew's) which have a reputation for attracting the kind of student who was looking forward to the social aspects of Oxbridge but didn't meet the academic standards. As late as 2000, Bristol was actively recruiting Oxbridge rejects. In the current year, all these universities insist that they aren't, but I don't believe them.
  2. The level of "hooray Henryism" (our equivalent of fratty behaviour) at Bristol/Exeter/St Andrew's is noticeably higher than Oxbridge, where most of the students are genuine bookworms. This is less true of Durham, possibly because Durham was historically a mining town and the threat of being beaten up by locals moderates behaviour.
  3. Selective-membership elite social clubs exist at Oxbridge, but are very much on the downlow. Doing that kind of thing as publicly as US Greek life violates the first rule of British traditional-elite culture which is that those who matter don't mind and those who mind don't matter.
  4. Everything is confounded by the impact of Harry Potter fandom. Someone who enthusiastically participates in academic-social traditions like formal dining in the College Hall might be trad, or they might just be a Potterhead. For Americans who are not aware of this, Harry Potter is inspired by a tradition of English boarding school stories whose memes probably trace back to the Billy Bunter stories in the cheap early 20th century boy's papers (see this critical appraisal by Orwell) and which had ceased to be written unironically around the time Enid Blyton died in 1968. The traditions of these boarding schools were themselves based on university traditions, and in any case JK Rowling was Scottish, and therefore more familiar with ancient universities than with English boarding schools, so Hogwarts looks more like an Oxbridge College than like a real Public (i.e. posh private) School.

On the central question of "What is the sexual morality of Bama Rush?" I see three things going on.

  1. This is, at least publically, traditional-elite sexual morality. Marriage market value is determined by coming from a good family, being hot, and being socially adept (roughly in that order). Young traditional-elite women are socialised to think about marriage market value to the exclusion of sexual market value or labour market value. Jane Austen would understand, to the point where "Elizabeth Bennet rushes Bama" is a crossover fic I would consider reading. Anyone want to take the over on what % of these girls will outearn their husbands in 20 years' time? A sorority preserves its prestige over time by recruiting high MMV girls, policing their behaviour to maintain their MMV, and encouraging them to marry future bankers and captains of industry of the type who will bankroll their wives' alumnae donations (i.e. guys from top frats).
  2. The hypocrisy is exactly the sort of thing that Dalrock used to talk about on his blog, and which leads to the standard Blue joke about Red Tribers marrying early and often have a point. Dalrock's thesis was that American meritocratic elites had a sexual morality where sex and marriage were separated - when seeking sex you do whatever it takes to compete for attention from the top 20% SMV guys, but when seeking marriage you should be as practical as a Jane Austen character. In this model both tribes have the same sexual morality, but the Blue Tribe are more honest about what they are doing.
  3. There are strong vibes of high-status sorority sisters (upperclasswomen, chapter officers, big-name legacies) pimping out lower-status girls (underclasswomen, girls from lower-middle-class families) at their own sororities to the frats in order to build useful social connections.

Jane Austen would understand, to the point where "Elizabeth Bennet rushes Bama" is a crossover fic I would consider reading.

That is something we need.

The hypocrisy is exactly the sort of thing that Dalrock used to talk about on his blog, and which leads to the standard Blue joke about Red Tribers marrying early and often have a point. Dalrock's thesis was that American meritocratic elites had a sexual morality where sex and marriage were separated - when seeking sex you do whatever it takes to compete for attention from the top 20% SMV guys, but when seeking marriage you should be as practical as a Jane Austen character. In this model both tribes have the same sexual morality, but the Blue Tribe are more honest about what they are doing.

Do you have a link to a blog post?

There are strong vibes of high-status sorority sisters (upperclasswomen, chapter officers, big-name legacies) pimping out lower-status girls (underclasswomen, girls from lower-middle-class families) at their own sororities to the frats in order to build useful social connections.

I wondered about that, to what extent that is its own hierarchy, but all I had was speculation and anecdote, no evidence. It was more observable in high school than college for me, but I didn't go to school in the south.

That is something we need.

Further cementing my belief that Claude 3.5 Sonnet is the only LLM that can write worth a damn:

Pride and Rush

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single freshman in possession of a good wardrobe must be in want of a bid. However little known the feelings or views of such a young woman may be on her first entering campus, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding sororities, that she is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their houses.

"My dear Elizabeth," said Mrs. Bennet to her daughter one morning in their Tuscaloosa hotel room, "have you selected your rush week outfits? You know the first round begins tomorrow."

Elizabeth Bennet, who had been arranging her perfectly pressed blouses by shade of white, merely nodded. She had heard quite enough about rush from her mother since their arrival from Longbourn, Georgia, three days prior.

"Lady Catherine de Bourgh's niece, Anne, is legacy at Delta Nu," continued Mrs. Bennet, fanning herself with a recruitment pamphlet. "Such connections! And to think, if only my own dear sisters had attended Alabama, you might have been legacy somewhere yourself."

"I assure you, Mama, I am quite content to make my own way," said Elizabeth, though she knew this would bring little comfort to her mother's anxious spirits. The whole business of formal recruitment struck her as rather ridiculous – all these elaborate social niceties, performed with precision timing under the sweltering Alabama sun.

"Jane has already made such an impression at orientation," Mrs. Bennet continued, speaking of Elizabeth's elder sister. "That Caroline Bingley, the Recruitment Chair at Kappa, absolutely doted on her. Such refinement! Such grace!"

Elizabeth smiled, for she could not disagree about Jane's natural elegance. Her sister possessed exactly the sort of gentle manner that seemed calculated to win over even the most discriminating of sorority women. Elizabeth, on the other hand, found she could not help but view the whole proceedings with a degree of bemused skepticism.

"And have you heard?" Mrs. Bennet lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Mr. Bingley's friend, that Darcy fellow – the one from the old Mountain Brook family – is serving as a recruitment advisor to his sister's house. They say he's terribly proud, but with five generations at Alabama, I suppose one might be."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. She had glimpsed this Mr. Darcy during orientation, standing aloof from the cheerful chaos of move-in day, his crimson tie perfectly knotted despite the August heat. She had thought him handsome, to be sure, but his expression of general disdain for all around him had rather diminished the effect.

The afternoon wore on, Mrs. Bennet fluttering between her daughters' rooms, dispensing advice about conversation topics and the proper way to cross one's ankles. Elizabeth found her thoughts returning to the week ahead – the houses she would visit, the conversations she would have, and yes, even that proud Mr. Darcy, who seemed to embody everything both magnificent and ridiculous about this peculiar Southern institution she was about to enter.

Little did she know how significantly these next few days would alter the course of her freshman year – and indeed, her life.

Pride and Rush

[Previous chapter remains the same...]

Chapter 2

The first morning of recruitment dawned bright and merciless, the Alabama sun already asserting its dominance over the manicured lawns of Sorority Row. Elizabeth, dressed in a carefully selected sundress that her mother had deemed "not quite the thing, but it will have to do," found herself assembled with hundreds of other young women in the grand ballroom of the student center.

"Potential New Members," announced Charlotte Lucas, a sophomore Rho Gamma who had been assigned to Elizabeth's recruitment group, "remember to smile, be yourself, and trust the process." Charlotte, who had temporarily denounced her own sorority affiliation to serve as an impartial guide, delivered these platitudes with what Elizabeth detected as the slightest hint of irony.

Jane, naturally, looked perfectly composed despite the early hour. Her blonde hair fell in elegant waves, and her white dress seemed to repel both wrinkles and nervous perspiration. "Lizzy," she whispered, "do try to keep an open mind. Everyone says these houses have such different personalities."

"Oh yes," Elizabeth replied with a arch smile, "I'm particularly looking forward to discovering the subtle distinctions between the thirty different versions of 'Sweet Home Alabama' we'll hear today."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Caroline Bingley, resplendent in her Kappa leadership polo, her auburn hair arranged in the sort of casual updo that required no less than forty-five minutes to achieve. She was accompanied by none other than Mr. Darcy himself, who appeared to be inspecting the recruitment arrangements with all the enthusiasm of a man attending his own funeral.

"Jane, darling!" Caroline trilled, skillfully ignoring Elizabeth's existence. "You must be so excited. First rounds are such fun – though of course, some houses are more... selective about their future sisters than others."

"I'm sure every house has its own wonderful qualities," Jane replied diplomatically.

Mr. Darcy's expression suggested he strongly disagreed with this generous assessment, though he said nothing. His eyes swept the room with what Elizabeth could only interpret as disapproval, lingering briefly on her own decidedly unfashionable hometown boutique dress.

"I suppose some of us must content ourselves with whatever bids we receive," Elizabeth said sweetly, meeting Darcy's gaze with deliberate challenge. "We can't all have five generations of legacy to recommend us."

A flash of something – surprise, perhaps, or irritation – crossed Darcy's features before he resumed his mask of indifference. "Legacy status means little without the proper... qualities to maintain our standards."

"And what qualities might those be, Mr. Darcy? The ability to look down one's nose at perfect strangers?"

Caroline Bingley's carefully penciled eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. Jane looked mortified. But before Darcy could respond, a chime sounded through the ballroom, signaling the start of first rounds.

"All PNMs to your groups!" Charlotte called out, saving Elizabeth from whatever cutting response Darcy might have formulated. As she took her place in line, Elizabeth couldn't help but notice Darcy watching her retreat, his expression unreadable.

The day stretched before them: twelve houses to visit, each for precisely twenty minutes, with three minutes between to hurry down the row to the next destination. Elizabeth steeled herself for what promised to be an exhausting parade of identical conversations about her potential major (English literature, to her mother's despair) and her high school activities (debate club captain, which had already earned her several concerned looks from the more traditional Southern belles in her group).

As she climbed the pristine white steps of the first house, already echoing with synchronized clapping and singing, Elizabeth reflected that Mr. Darcy's disdain might not be entirely misplaced – though she would rather die than admit it. Still, she was here now, and she intended to make the best of it, if only to prove to certain parties that a girl from small-town Georgia could navigate these rarefied social waters with as much grace as any Mountain Brook debutante.

The massive door swung open, releasing a blast of air conditioning and the perfectly harmonized strains of what was, indeed, "Sweet Home Alabama."

This is actually good. I may die laughing when Clippy comes for my haemoglobin.

Dalrock deleted his blog, IIRC, so unless he's saved excerpts, it's not really an option to go read it.

It is archived at Redpill Archive

Jane Austen would understand, to the point where "Elizabeth Bennet rushes Bama" is a crossover fic I would consider reading.

That is something we need.

Tide and Prejudice