I am sorry to report that the University’s booze scene is in dire straits. Last quarter I visited The Pub for the first time since returning to the College after a two-year hiatus. Add to my reunion with Mrs. Noyes the prospect of a Guinness— foamy head, velvet creaminess, and all—and my excitement for that Wednesday evening was brimming. The anticipation, however, was met with an abrupt end. The rancid thing was served ice cold, in an American Pint glass, and much resembled a Coke. Sensing my disgust, a friend pointed me toward an IPA. But times weren’t so desperate yet. 

There is also Jimmy’s, where I was willing to overlook the offering of beer pitchers until I was reminded that one of this magazine’s writers—a handsome and mature-looking chap—still cannot overcome the bulbous doorman (who happens to be vindicated by federal law). On general principles, I shall stand by him for now. Finally, and most quintessentially, you will find in 57th Street Wines both terrific wine and young adults who become befuddled when confronted with a choice between Pinot Grigio and Pinot Noir. 

Christopher Hitchens once remarked that alcohol makes a good servant but a bad master. Too much and your night will be a stranger by the morning, but the right amount can discharge a vital inspiration for reading or writing— what the Greeks called entheos. Most importantly, though, it enlivens company. A good magazine ought to do much the same thing. So, being easier than amending federal law or building a boozer, we decided to start one. 

In that spirit, do not always expect objectivity or sobriety from these pages; what you see is what you get. Precisely one hundred years ago, The New Yorker’s first issue began with “a declaration of serious purpose but with a concomitant declaration that it will not be too serious in executing it.” We intend the same. Our discourse shall be a parliamentary one: oppositional and dialectic. 

You may sometimes find our features offensive, unpopular, polemic, or contrarian. Good. These pages have not been edited for consensus but for conversation. In this manner, we hope to be a common force that brings together the many fragments of our campus. Hereby, The Phoenix is published neither for Fox News nor for the touring parent. We aim to reflect University of Chicago life and shall publish facts and stories that take work to discover. We shall admit content on the basis of argumentation, wit, and quality of writing—not partisan ideology or sensation. If you seek commentary on domestic or international politics, we happily recommend the free WSJ and NYT subscriptions offered by the University. 

This being said, as honorable members of the University community, we prefer free speech and “human flourishing” to the alternatives but would rather save ourselves the expense of reprinting Mrs. Hanna Holborn Gray’s much-cited words. The Phoenix also expects to stand firmly against bigotry of all kinds, despite lacking the resources and sound judgment to establish a ten-man diversity panel like our friends at The Maroon. 

It is well into the spring quarter and publications are gearing up for the next academic year. We sadly cannot afford this luxury. As such, we ask for your generosity in understanding that, as for any new publication, The Phoenix’s identity is a work in progress. Nevertheless, we are immensely grateful for both our fledgling, though talented team and for our earliest supporters. It is their hard work and belief to which these pages owe their worth. 

So, to the kind Whataburger server who fueled the late hours of a brainstorming night in Austin and to the bouncer who prevented the untimely intoxication of one of our editors just beforehand; to our managing editor Talia Elkin who has been on this journey from the start; to the University of Chicago, its dear Phil, and to you for making it this far: thank you. 

Warmly, 

Shubh Malde, editor in chief