The Moral Hangover
Halloweekend is over now. Should we have gone to the frats?
Another frat, another headline, another round of outrage that dissolves by the next batch of Fizz posts. Our question isn’t why these stories happen anymore — it’s why we keep showing up. Are we blinded by the myth of belonging or just the allure of a good time? There may not be anything inherently wrong with a little bit of Dionysian fun. But what is troubling is how our actions contradict our self-proclaimed principles.
Many Yalies espouse moral judgements at every turn, from protests, to essays, to seminar discussions. We hold people and institutions to high standards. We question and protest figures we deem problematic, especially those directly related to campus life. But when it comes to our social lives, how consistently do we hold ourselves to this standard?
Scandals and misconduct haunt the Yale social scene. In 2018, Delta Kappa Epsilon (DKE) lost its lease to widespread complaints of sexual misconduct, following a previous ban in 2010 when a hazing video showing pledges shouting misogynistic phrases went viral. In 2018, a Yale sophomore brought a formal Title IX complaint against SigEp, now rebranded as the co-ed Edon Club, following another complaint the previous year; four years earlier, two lawsuits were brought against the members of the fraternity for a fatal accident in 2011. There have been repeated concerns, from both students and sororities, over Sigma Nu’s culture and members’ inappropriate conduct. In 2023, several sororities suspended mixers with LEO following a rape allegation against a past vice president. Moreover, accounts of drink tampering at Yale frats have become unfortunate afterthoughts in our nights out, unaddressed and largely untraceable.
Many of us also have our own stories of alarming experiences at fraternities, whether firsthand or through friends. We sensationalize the shocking headlines that get media or Fizz attention, overlooking what happens not just once in a blue moon, but every weekend. Frats say they’ve changed, that they’ve become “better places for women,” but time and time again, we find evidence to the contrary. The above scandals, and the countless other offenses that go unreported, stem from a frat culture that obscures culpability, minimizes accountability, and encourages collective amnesia.
And non-frat-affiliated Yalies aren’t mere bystanders to this culture. Look at your last Friday night out: the bustling throngs of partygoers lined up on frat row, with those who once scorned the scandals and allegations now begging to get in at the door. Our physical presence on High Street misaligns with our moral convictions. The frats once shut down by Title IX allegations have self-proclaimed feminists on their dance floors, just as SigNu has Fizzers who voted to “demolish” its house eager to enter its premises. What happened to their righteous demands to hold sexual offenders accountable, to reimagine fraternity culture? How quickly did our anger dissipate? Was it all a performance? A virtue signal?
There must be some explanation as to why Yalies, in all their moral righteousness, continue to show up to these muddy backyards packed with questionable company and eroded principles. Maybe it’s the illusion of anonymity, the promise of drunken chaos, or the collective suspension of judgement making cramped dance floors feel more alive than a night in with friends. To that end, frats are some of the most accessible venues to decompress after a long week filled with p-sets and essays. We focus on this potential for fun without consciously thinking of the implications of our actions. And so we tolerate a state of cognitive dissonance, where we knowingly enter morally fraught spaces — despite knowing all their histories.
Our tendencies should trouble us. The culture we build through our actions runs so contrary to the one we imagine through our words, yet it is the former that defines campus life and the latter that remains purely aspirational. In continuing to attend frats, we seem to have accepted their flaws as an unfortunate, but necessary evil in our pursuit of weekend fun. But our moral compasses should guide us not just in theory, but in practice. So, if we are ready to surrender our morals for something as minor as going out on a Friday night, then we need to ask ourselves how much those values truly mean to us in the first place.
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