A frequently underestimated component of the Rhodes process is the now infamous Rhodes reception. Usually held the night before the interviews, where finalists and the judges mingle over drinks and hors d’oeuvres, this reception provides the judges with their first opportunity to evaluate finalists in an informal setting. Without a doubt, the Rhodes reception “counts” less today than fifty years ago. But don’t let anyone tell you that it doesn’t matter at all.
In a field of candidates who all have impressive academic, research, leadership, service, and athletic achievements, it matters that you are also able to interact meaningfully with your peers and with prominent figures in a range of fields. This is a life skill that may influence whether or not you are able to capitalize fully on your other talents. And frankly, it’s a bit of an introduction to life at Oxford, where it is not uncommon to talk Kant or kinetics over cocktails. The selection committee is not trying to catch you holding your wineglass improperly or looking for food in your teeth. They’re trying to gain insight into who you are beyond what they’ve read in your application. Are you witty or just ridiculous? Can you explain your genetics research to an expert on French poetry? Are you interested in other peoples’ ideas and experiences, or always waiting for an opportunity to interrupt with a sound byte from your own resume? Are you cognizant of the world around you and outside of your area of expertise?
Let me be clear. I am not an expert on the Rhodes process. I have served on national selection committees, but never for the Rhodes. However, through my own experience, those of friends who have participated successfully and unsuccessfully, and in conversations about the experience with them, I realized that students’ levels of comfort at these receptions can vary wildly. Those who seemed most at ease fall into two categories: children of intellectually or socially elite parents who grew up going to cocktail parties with prominent figures (and who are arguably the old Rhodes stereotype), and those who are either just naturally at ease in social settings or who have had a great deal of experience with “intellectual cocktail parties” through their involvement on campus. In my district, all of the winners my year had had some sort of interaction with the board of trustees of their respective universities as undergraduates, regardless of their academic fields.
Some people are convinced that it was their inability to shine at these receptions that “lost them the Rhodes.” This is rarely (if ever) true. If you stand by yourself in a corner or monopolize another finalist the entire evening, it probably won’t help. But the “social butterflies” do not necessarily impress others with their effervescence, and at times they accomplish the reverse. Rhodies are not generally shy, but introverts exist in every class. I find it telling and a bit reassuring when unsuccessful candidates express their shock that someone who’d “barely spoken at all” at the reception or in the interview waiting room was selected. The selection committee obviously picked up on something at the reception, the interview, or in the file that set that individual apart in a way that might go undetected on cursory evaluation.
Still, one might think that people who are naturally gregarious have an inherent advantage, and this is true to some extent. But they are often disadvantaged by the fact that they enjoy talking, or rather, pontificating for minutes on end without stopping for a breath or allowing comment or question from others. Nothing could be worse at the Rhodes reception, where everyone is smart, all of the candidates have something to contribute, and no one has the time or the patience for a lecture. Good conversationalists are able to talk in smart, substantive, or funny ways about their own lives and interests, those of others, and the events or literature of the day. Most Rhodies not only have expertise in a specific area, but a great deal of general knowledge that enables them to interact with people from a diverse range of disciplines and backgrounds based on this shared intellectual currency.
It’s not necessary to memorize the past five years of publications such as The New York Times, Harpers, Rolling Stone, Economist, or Wall Street Journal. But reading them will protect you from embarrassment when you don’t know the basic details of the peace negotiations in Ireland, the WTO talks in Seattle, MFN status for China, the Human Genome Project, or school vouchers. These periodicals will also provide you with savvy analysis of current events that you should synthesize, reflect on, and critique. Whether or not you win, stay in the habit of reading these and other periodicals regularly. Warning here: when discussing the Presidential campaign, DO NOT paraphrase the recent William Safire editorial and present it as your own perspective! Know what you think based on your own experiences and those of your family, friends, community, state, etc. It’s also important to remember where you come from or where you’re interviewing. If you’re interviewing in your home state, even if you’ve attended college on the other side of the country you still have a responsibility to be aware of important social and political happenings at home. Similarly, if you don’t attend a university in your home state, you should still be familiar with the major issues. State panels are generally composed of local Rhodes Scholars as well as other prominent state figures, such as college or university presidents, federal judges, scientists, or newspaper editors, who want to see that your perspective is informed by a “sense of place,” a self-awareness of how your experiences and those of the people around you influence your ideas and commitments.
Know your categories. Women candidates are expected to have thought about what are usually considered “women’s issues,” i.e., feminism, Hillary Clinton as first lady and as a senatorial candidate, Elizabeth Dole for President, childcare, etc. If you’re Latino, you should have an opinion on bilingual education and immigration. African Americans might be asked their opinions of affirmative action, hip-hop as a socio-cultural force, black intellectualism, and the Harlem Renaissance. If you’re gay (and have chosen to share that in your application or in some other manner), then you should feel comfortable discussing hate crimes legislation and civil unions. Anglo-Saxon males from rural America should feel comfortable opining on white male rage, the plight of the rural poor, and hate groups. (Incidentally, straight WASP males are less likely to be asked “category questions,” but it does happen.) And because this is the Rhodes, if you fall into none or all of these categories simultaneously (hey, it’s just barely impossible), you should still have some coherent opinions on these and similar issues influencing Americans’ lives. No particular perspective is expected or advocated (particularly given the likely diversity of views on any given panel), but you should have either considered these issues or have enough background knowledge to discuss them on the spot. Like the sense of place questions, category questions seek to tease out how your life experiences have influenced your worldview. And while it’s more probable you will be asked such questions during the interview the next day, it could happen at the reception instead.
Don’t pontificate, and don’t ramble. If the tide of conversation shifts from your area of interest, don’t try to refocus it, and don’t necessarily take that as your cue to move on. Demonstrating sincere interest in others’ experiences can serve you just as well or better than holding forth on your senior thesis topic. It might seem strange that I used the word “sincere,” but you should be sincerely interested in the experiences of your fellow candidates and the selection committee. After all, these are likely some of the most impressive and fascinating people that you will meet in your entire life. Whether or not you win, the judges and other finalists may be people that you want to stay in contact with, so don’t spend every moment planning your next comment or question. Listen. Listen. Listen.
At the reception, there will be small clusters usually composed of one selection committee member and one to four finalists. You should try to talk to every selection committee member, but sacrifice substance in the interests of full coverage. As I said, you shouldn’t leave just because a judge and another finalist are talking about an unfamiliar subject. Listen and ask questions. But neither can you stay forever. Sometimes it’s possible to move on without seeming rude. Rather than leaving to join a more interesting conversation or hobnob with a different selection committee member, it’s sometimes better to say “I think I’ll grab another drink,” or “I’m going to try the chicken wings.” It just depends. Or just say “I’ll be back,” grab some food, spend some time with some other candidates, and then make your return. Entry and exit strategy only matters when it’s done poorly, but it’s something to practice.
Practice? It seems strange to suggest that people practice intellectual cocktail conversation. Some campuses make sure their candidates can interact with the campus selection committee the day of, the day before, or the week before the campus interview. Other schools track potential Rhodes applicants from sophomore year and take great pains to provide them with opportunities to interact with professors and prominent university guests at dinners and receptions throughout the year. Through involvement in various youth and civic organizations at the state and national level, I became very comfortable with cocktail parties in high school. Of course, the topic of conversation at a Lions Club meeting might differ from a reception for a Nobel Laureate, but similar social skills apply.
Rhodes Scholars will be those finalists with whom at least a couple of the judges feel some sense of connection. This does not necessarily mean a person who shares their political views or career interests, but someone whose passion for pharmacogenomics reminds them either of their own love for nineteenth century Ghanian sculpture or the passion of their friend, Javier, the Rhodes Scholar who is also a pharmacogeneticist. It’s not enough to say that you “just like singing” or that you think “chemistry is really fun.” Tell stories or explain models or ideas that will spark the panelists’ interest and perhaps encourage them to ask you follow-up questions in the interview.
The most important advice that I could give anyone at any stage of the Rhodes process, from the application, to the reception, to the interview, is “know thyself, and let thyself be known.” Be open and honest. If you’re a guy with long hair, don’t cut it. But don’t grow it long to be funky if that’s not you. If you have pink hair and a tongue ring, don’t necessarily go out and buy Clairol hair color unless you’re not comfortable having pink hair and talking simultaneously to the editor of the Washington Post or the President of Wellesley. But more importantly, know why you believe what you believe and why you’ve chosen the social, intellectual, artistic, and athletic endeavors that you’ve undertaken. Don’t pretend to know what you don’t. If you only speak traveler’s Swedish, don’t mention it. Alternatively, make it clear that you only speak traveler’s Swedish, unless you want to risk being asked a question—in Swedish—that you are expected to answer—in Swedish. Trust me, it happens. At the reception, I was asked (in “casual conversation”) by a linguist on the panel to compare the verb structures in two of the languages that I speak. I survived, but I’ve heard horror stories from others who had exaggerated their skills. Similarly, if you’re asked a factual question on an unfamiliar topic, admit your ignorance. Hopefully this won’t happen more than once or twice, but it’s not necessarily bad that it happens as long as you don’t babble. And a smarty-pant’s willingness to admit a lack of knowledge is impressive to Rhodes committees. Selection committees have an uncanny ability to recognize the conceited, the desperate, the patently false, and the disingenuous.
Clearly, this is no recipe for success. But I hope that it helps to level the playing field a bit. These are the kinds of things that candidates and advisors from schools with long histories of Rhodes Scholars know or find out through written or oral tradition, so I hope that people from schools without such histories find it particularly useful.
—Julian Harris, Truman 1999, Rhodes 2000
