The tragedy of solidarity

For many students, it’s daunting enough to study in a foreign country, let alone one so keen on possessing firearms. As there has been no such precedent as the Second Amendment in East Asian history, all forms of weapon violence have been lumped together as evidence of an irrational policy undermining collective well-being. Yet the attraction of an American education has lured students from across the globe, as schools geared toward sending students abroad have pushed class hours to past midnight, and the college counseling industry has become one of the largest in East Asia. While the threat of school shootings and dangers associated with any study abroad program have loomed in the background, very few students have sacrificed the benefits of an American degree for an intangible threat to personal security. Even in the case of Lu Lingzi, the Chinese graduate student who was killed in the Boston bombing, the lure of a statistics degree at a prestigious U.S. university overshadowed all concerns for livelihood. Lu’s father wrote in a recent letter to the Boston community that Lu had loved Boston and its people, and that no student should be deterred from pursuing his or her dreams because of what had happened. Yet for many international students, especially for those still in their motherland, the opportunity costs of studying abroad have increased significantly.

This has massive implications for American universities, not just in the ethnic diversity of their applicants but also in the prestige with which they are accorded. Increasingly, America has become more valuable for its educational opportunities than for its economy or military strength, and the fact that so many international students are forced to reconsider their decision is detrimental to the country. According to the Institute of International Education, more than 194,000 Chinese students like Lu were enrolled in American colleges this past year, constituting a sizable percentage of many schools’ admissions.

The Tsarnaev brothers' status as international students has also sparked a nationwide debate on stricter immigration policies. The solidarity that has been so widely lauded in Boston has created nativist sentiments hostile to the international community. Even joking hash tags like #murica and #gobackhome have created a culture of exclusivism unnecessary to the resilience of Boston’s community, and they have made international students feel even less at home. Several hate crimes have already been reported against Muslims, as well as instances of racist slurs against East Asian students deemed to be a “North Korean” threat. For such a powerful nation with so many positive features, it seems a shame that racism and irrationality would taint its image.

There are few happier to see the Boston bombers apprehended and justly punished than us international students, and our lack of citizenship or brief residence in the nation do nothing to undermine our pride in and support for this nation. As British Prime Minister William Gladstone once stated, mutual love and human sympathies are not bound by the shores of a nation but pervade throughout humanity. Yet with the pride and support behind Boston should also come an awareness of the pain and discrimination faced by many international students, and the power of solidarity should never overshadow the strength of this nation.

Ye Eun Charlotte Chun is a freshman from Seoul, South Korea. She can be reached at ychun@princeton.edu.