The Columbia Political Review is a student run non-partisan publication. The views represented here belong to their author and are not representative of the publication's political views or sympathies.

2019 Editorial Board


ISabelle harris


Celine Bacha

Managing Editors

Hannah wyatt


benjy sachs

TEChnology & marketing Manager

Kerem TUncer 

Social media Manager

Anthony cosentino

arts editor

Antara agarwal

Podcast producers

KRisten Akey

Hannah wyatt

Senior Editors

Jake tibbetts

Christina hill


Henry feldman


Jodi lessner

akshiti vats

Copy Editors

Sonia mahajan

grace protasiewicz

aryeh hajibay

Mary zaradich

OP-ed staff writers

raya tarawneh

eric scheuch

sophia houdaigui

ayse yucesan

aja johnson

antara agarwal

pallavi sreedhar

jasleen chaggar

ramsay eyre

ellie hansen

rachel barkin

sarah desouza

feven negussie

Feature staff writers

anthony cosentino

kristen akey

kristha jenvaiyavasjamai

maria castillo

stella cavedon

devyani goel

janine nassar

diana valcarcel soler

stephanie choi

katherine malus


Editor's Note

By some divine coincidence, we’ve all somehow landed ourselves here in Morningside Heights together. Each of us, once belonging to vastly different worlds, has come to inhabit the same space just a few weeks ago hurling snowballs at each other and now sharing the same anxieties about midterms. But sometimes even the best of friends forget that, even though we share many of the same concerns and inside jokes in the present, every one of us brings our own bizarre pasts to this equally bizarre institution called college. In the pluralistic society in which we live, we remember always to tread cautiously, using politically sensitive language towards others and generally playing nice. But rarely do we attempt to understand each other’s individual pasts in their gritty detail—and that’s not even to speak of our own. In our cover story (p. 7), Andrew Choufrine explores his unusual personal history and attempts to do the one thing that we all struggle to do ourselves—map a genealogy of our political beliefs. Andrew, a beneficiary of housing subsidies as a child, finds himself opposing the very policy that has helped him become the privileged Columbia student he is today. He tries to reconcile these two truths the best he can.

As we reflect back, each of us, like Andrew, will find that our personal trajectories do not follow a comprehensible path. Still, we attempt—a bit pathetically, and maybe a bit valiantly—to connect the dots so that we might make sense of ourselves. In some respects, attempting to construct a neat, narrative arc to our personal myth is possibly just another form of intellectual masturbation, but I wonder if it might serve some purpose other than to indulge our narcissism. Maybe trying to understand ourselves endows us with the ability to defend the beliefs we hold so dear, knowing that we aren’t perfect.


Harry Reid Unplugged

My Summer of Love