Danny Crichton

Originally published in the Stanford Daily as part of a column series known as Adventures in Academia that explored issues related to the Stanford University community.

Last week's announcement that Chicago had failed in its bid for the 2016 Olympics was the latest in a series of missteps by the new Obama administration. As pessimism sinks in and unemployment inches upward, what was the exuberant candidate of 2008 has now turned into the lugubrious president of 2009. Obama has met the reality of the modern political world. How to proceed from here is his choice.

Flashback to last year. For those on campus, there was an electricity that pervaded the entire campus that is only seen after beating USC in football. Students, even those who rarely follow politics, were conversing on the issues of the day and schlepping all the way to Nevada and Florida to make their voice heard.

Although there was a hollowness on Election Day in the face of Prop 8's success, a well-attended election party at the CoHo capped an exciting campaign. That excitement remained palpable in January when Obama was inaugurated. Even the forgettable, early-morning speech could not deter those watching - or those who secured a ticket to the event - from celebrating a momentous day in American political history.

Seven months later, all the energy and passion on display during the campaign has petered out. Left-wing Democrats complain (almost bitterly) over forgotten promises and disappointing decisions while the center-left anxiously looks ahead to an increasingly gloomy 2010 campaign. Right now, Obama has a critical choice before him: will he be the candidate of his campaign or the president of the last seven months?

If he chooses the former, then he has a lot of work to do. The first issue will invariably be

Originally published in the Stanford Daily as part of a column series known as Adventures in Academia that explored issues related to the Stanford University community.

There is nothing quite like the ecstasy that follows the eleventh-hour discovery of the perfect source for one's research paper. Reading the abstract, everything starts to fit, and this capstone citation will end the drafting process after days of weaving different sources. Then, that ecstasy is suddenly replaced with virulent anger as the screen announces that access can be bought for a measly $35.

Stanford University is gifted to have the resources to purchase thousands of journal subscriptions. Nonetheless, no budget, however large, can provide access to the immense number of published journals. Invariably, a critical article is not accessible by researchers at this school. As library budgets are cut nationwide due to the economic recession, it is time for universities to rethink the academic publishing model. The answer lies in open access journal articles.

This need was answered last week by a consortium of schools calling itself the Compact for Open-Access Publishing Equity. A mouthful of a title, but one with a very simple goal: to place open-access publishers on an equal footing with their more common subscription-based competitors.

The five schools that joined the compact are Harvard, Dartmouth, Cornell, MIT and our rivals across the Bay, Berkeley. Stanford's name is quite conspicuously absent from this list. Our school has been one of the leaders of this movement for many years, and thus, it is discouraging to see that other schools are carrying the torch for this necessary push.

To understand the systemic problems of journal publishing, we need to look at some of the policies and economics that prevent research articles from being freely distributed.

First, professors generally lose the copyright on

Originally published in the Stanford Daily as part of a column series known as Adventures in Academia that explored issues related to the Stanford University community.

It has not been a pleasant year for the country, and higher education has not been spared. Stanford has weathered the downturn in the global economy better than most, but it is not immune to the major challenges in academia that have been percolating beneath the surface. This is the year the old rulebook is thrown out.

Ranking after ranking indicates that the American higher education system remains second to none. Yet no time in recent memory has the mission of the university been put under so much strain.

Money is one problem. While states have dramatically increased funding for higher education over the last few decades, their budgets have not matched the growth of institutions. Private universities like Stanford rely on money from their endowments and income from government-sponsored research projects - money that has become scarcer even before the current recession (stimulus funding excepted).

Money, though, is only the first issue. Entire disciplines are facing a cathartic moment, most notably economics. After years of developing that social science with precise mathematical laws of the market, economists are faced with a world that few believed was even possible but three years ago. How much of the literature needs to be reworked, or worse, thrown out entirely?

These two failures come at a time when the fundamental unit of the academy - tenure - is under fire from administrators and state legislatures. At a basic level, tenure provides the security underpinning academic freedom. Yet fewer faculty members are making it to the tenure-track - damaging innovation and risking future advances in all fields.

These are merely a few of the front-burner issues that are

Originally published in the Stanford Weekly as part of a column series known as Academe's Vanguard that explored issues related to the Stanford University community.

When the internet first entered the public imagination, it was seen as a beacon of freedom from the oppressive Cold War decades that had proceeded it. Information could travel around the world unhindered by cloistered regimes, goods could be easily bought and sold across borders, and ideas could be encountered by enormous audiences. Every ill of the world could be solved with a well-designed website and some publicity.

These initial hopes were well-founded through the heady times of the 1990s and the early years of the new millennium. The internet provided new avenues of understanding the world and democratized information dissemination. Yet in the last couple of months, the dark-side forces that commentators have predicted would come - information fragmentation, political polarization, rampant conspiracy theories - seem to have rapidly advanced.

Chris Anderson explains in The Long Tail that retailers would do better on the internet if they focused on selling a little of a lot of goods as opposed to selling a few blockbuster items. Unfortunately, that theory is now being applied to information, with dangerous prospects ahead. Blogs and their associated portals are providing information with an enormously distorted lens, yet few seem willing to undo the damage.

America has passed an inflection point on the benefits of freedom of information. The initial days of the internet filled in reporting gaps and connected distant places together on an equal footing - the so-called flattening of the world. Today, the sheer granularity of sites allows those of all political persuasions to hear information from only one side - lowering the sophistication of political discourse.

Before the inflection point, there are huge gains to be

Originally published in the Stanford Weekly as part of a column series known as Academe's Vanguard that explored issues related to the Stanford University community.

Stanford University is a bastion of achievers. From athletes smashing world records, scientists winning Nobel Prizes and politicians converging on the centers of power, our students will define some part of humanity's journey. Even our dropouts do just fine-and sometimes better.

Bringing this legacy to a new generation, Stanford's undergraduate admission Web site screams, "Freedom: It's in the mission, the people, the place." We can achieve anything we set our minds to with the help of the network of people that make up this fantastic place. There is no obstacle we cannot pass, no height we cannot reach!

That is, until now. The higher-ups have chimed in, and there is now a height past which no Stanford student may pass. Instead, it is about four feet and 11-3/4 inches off the floor (I eyeballed it). The new peak of our lives is Captain's Height, and it is about to redefine the meaning of our lives and the legacies we leave behind in this world.

Stanford Housing will no longer allow lofting in many of the dorm rooms on campus, instead limiting students to the previously-mentioned height limit. We are thus limited to three heights: Captain's Height, the highest option at the top of the bed posts; Ensign's Height, which is located above the floor in the first set of holes; and Stowaway's Height, which is removing the bed from its posts and resting it on the floor.

To fully grasp this change, I researched more about being a captain. There are 11 ranks in the United States Navy, and Captain is straight in the middle at rank No. 6; if my (hypothetical)

Originally published in the Stanford Weekly as part of a column series known as Academe's Vanguard that explored issues related to the Stanford University community.

A couple of weeks ago, I received an invitation to join a Facebook group calling for the removal of cars from University Avenue - along with the avenue itself. The goal is to create a pedestrian paradise where community members can feel safe to stroll by shop windows while sipping some overpriced beverage.

I promptly deleted the petition, but as these things always seem to work online, I was invited to join again. Having crossed some subconscious barrier that I place against these Facebook groups, I decided to evaluate the ideas with at least some objectivity. At first, I derided the proposal for its seemingly utopian ideals, but further research showed that there could be real economic benefits (when does one see that in a utopian proposal?). Turning University Avenue into a pedestrian promenade is worthy of consideration, although highly unrealistic in the near future.

First, a quick historical lesson. The idea came about as part of a d.School class called "Creating Infectious Action." The goal for one group was to reduce gas usage. One of the main avenues to create this "infection" was through a Facebook group advocating the creation of a Palo Alto Pedestrian Mall - a group that now counts its membership above 2,000. For additional details, see "Students rethink University Ave" in the Daily archives.

The specific proposal comes from a theoretical urban planning school called New Urbanism, which builds upon research in urban design and the sociology of communities. In short, rather than having one area of a city devoted to housing and one to commerce, (think green and blue in SimCity

Originally published in the Stanford Weekly as part of a column series known as Academe's Vanguard that explored issues related to the Stanford University community.

Choosing a major used to be a relatively simple proposition. In the 12th century, the University of Paris had four faculties - law, medicine, arts and theology. They must have done something right, since these are the same disciplines that make an appearance here at Stanford (with a couple of additions over the years).

Those original four lasted for centuries, gradually expanding as new forms of scholarship emerged - engineering and social sciences, for instance. There was a slow accumulation of disciplines - a trickle that has seemed to become a flood in recent memory. Some universities now offer hundreds of majors. Stanford has crept past three digits as well, including both undergraduate and graduate programs.

This reflects a broad trend at Stanford and in American society - the forceful push toward greater levels of specialization. The common wisdom is that one cannot letter in the broad liberal arts without serious long-term economic consequences when others are focusing on tightly-defined specialties. That wisdom is false. I argue that a very different trend is emerging - and students can be at the forefront.

This problem of over-specialization is not exclusive to the humanities. Further specialization is happening across the university. At one point, a Computer Science degree was the end goal - a broad understanding of a relatively compact field. But a major revamp later, the program is now comprised of specialty tracks - seven of them in fact. To be fair, one does not have to be specialized - there is always the "unspecialized" track for those poor souls.

Specialization is good. I am reminded of the adage "when you are one

This Op-Ed was originally written for the Human Biology Core, as part of the Writing in the Major requirements.

Swine flu is over - are you still alive?

From across American and across the world, panic and fear took hold of the public at a potentially dangerous foe too small to see. Bold headlines splashed across the cable news networks, constantly juxtaposed with images of crying children leaving their closed school and panning shots of the grittiness of Mexico City where the whole thing started.

Amidst the sheer chaos that was the news response, people around the world were hearing their local leaders give conflicting reports about what to do and don't. Some countries, like Russia and China among others, banned the importation of pork from North America. Influenza cannot be transmitted from pork products. Close to home, scores of schools shut down to prevent the spread - with varying levels of necessity.

The gap seen between the real-world horror show that emanates from the upper digit channels and the everyday lives of American citizens is where public health education must step in. With global interconnectedness comes the ever-present danger of new infections and public health emergencies. Educating the public and especially local political leaders during a crisis is ineffective. Public health needs to improve its relationship with the very people its name invokes.

Public health as a true discipline came into its own in the 20th century with population-wide immunization and vaccination programs that has led to an increasing change from acute to chronic illness. The eradication of smallpox became a cause célèbre within the community and soon proved successful. Today, the field has expanded to include more than thirty schools of public health with thousands of graduates.

Today, public health can no longer work from behind the scenes.