Every school has a mascot. Whether you are an S.E.C giant or a thousand-person liberal arts college, you almost certainly have some animal, mythical creature, or ridiculous fictional character representing you. Regardless of what it is, you will chant your mascot’s name at football games, wear it proudly on school apparel, and potentially even stop for a picture with it around campus. 

Well, not you. While many schools’ mascots can be instantly recognized by people across the nation— people with absolutely no affiliation to the school—UChicago students struggle to even identify their own mascot, much less rally around it. Is it the Maroons? A Phoenix? Neither? When I asked students to answer this seemingly simple question I was met by almost as many “um”s and “I don’t know”s as right answers. In fact, of the thirty-five Reg dwellers I polled, over a dozen failed to name Phil the Phoenix. 

Let me provide some clarity. The University of Chicago introduced the Phoenix in 1910, when it was incorporated into the University’s coat of arms. It was meant to represent the city of Chicago rising from the ashes of the Chicago Fire of 1871, along with the establishment of the University following the closure of a previous institution bearing the same name. While the exact origins of Phil in his costumed form—as a more conventional mascot—are unknown, the records show he has only been around since the ‘90s. 

At first glance, the Phoenix seems like a worthy choice for a mascot, accompanied by a fitting origin story. Why then is Phil so neglected? Fortunately for him, it is not personal. There is something uniquely UChicago about this predicament. Ultimately, it should not be particularly surprising that a school that is notorious for intellectual snobbism, an unsociable student body, and a hyper-fixation on academics would take little interest in Phil. The academic hubris of many students keeps them away from the “triviality” of school spirit; the introversion of others prevents them from interacting in a collective, and the academic obsession of still more prohibits them from leaving their cubicles. There is a sense in which UChicago students have no interest in their common identity, that it is beneath them. It should make perfect sense, then, that the physical embodiment of this common identity is attention-deprived. 

While UChicago students might love their academics, a seeming point of unison, they certainly don’t like each other. Unfortunately, the truth is that UChicago’s academics are splintered into a number of essential shards, factions that simply do not get along. For one, there is UChicago’s largest department, economics, and (in its business section) its grouping of diehard finance and frat bros. There is a profound rift between these students and the classic UChicago “free thinker.” It sometimes feels like one mascot is hardly enough. 

Let me be clear: I am not making excuses; I am simply observing. The unfortunate reality is that UChicago, for all its posturing about tolerance, cannot get students to buy into any sort of collective—not even a mascot. Our lack of school spirit is no secret. Look no further than our pitiful attendance at sports games. Not even Phil attends games, our football players report. At a place as cold, academically challenging, and, at times, downright depressing as the University of Chicago, it is truly a shame that this is the case—but it’s hardly surprising. It seems we are not worthy of Phil, not the other way around.