Rishik Gandhasri: auslaut.
Erin Howard: erysipelas.
Saketh Sundar: bougainvillea.
Shruthika Padhy: aiguillette.
Sohum Sukhatankar: pendeloque.
Abhijay Kodali: palama.
Christopher Serrao: cernuous.
Rohan Raja: odylic.
As the kids’ names suggest, all but one is of Indian descent. Since 2008, the children of immigrants from South Asia have crushed the world’s most prestigious spelling bee. Is that a problem? Should we be lamenting the lack of diversity in the top ranks of competitive student spellers? Ought Scripps manipulate the rules — the way Harvard has manipulated its admissions standards — to ensure that more non-Asians make it to the final rounds?
Indian-American kids haven’t become the royalty of competitive spelling because their race or color gives them an advantage. There is no “Asian privilege” that explains the failure of white, black, or Latino kids to capture the trophy. Awesome spelling skills aren’t coded in DNA from the Indian subcontinent. High-level spelling competition is a meritocracy; the only way to win is by spelling the most words correctly. And the only way to get that good at spelling rare and difficult words is to work at it — hard.
Many Indian-American children devote extraordinary time and effort to training for spelling bees: They memorize word lists, study etymology, familiarize themselves with prefixes and roots, take guidance from coaches, and compete in regional contests.
Such rigor, diligence, and patience has nothing to do with genetics or superficial “diversity.” It has everything to do with motivation. And what fuels that motivation is a combination of culture, social expectations, family encouragement, and ethnic solidarity. “Spelling bees have become a vital part of the Indian-American experience,” anthropologist Shalini Shankar has written. “There is community prestige in placing competitively in spelling bees and great familial pride for having participated in something so challenging at a young age.” Nor does it hurt that many of “these young word nerds,” as Shankar calls them, have a “vast social network of friends who also love spelling.”
The disproportionate success of Indians in world-class competitive spelling ought to elicit only admiration. But there’s no denying that it flies in the face of America’s vast diversity-industrial complex, which endlessly reinforces and endorses a great fallacy: that statistical disparities between racial and ethnic groups are proof of invidious discrimination.
Bigotry and injustice are real, of course, but they have no more to do with the dominance of Indians in spelling competitions than with the dominance of Kenyans in distance running, or of Russians in chess, or of African-Americans in the NBA. Or, for that matter, of men in commercial fishing or women in veterinary medicine, or of any of a thousand-and-one other examples of extreme statistical disparities among categories of people.
“Human beings are not random events,” the renowned scholar Thomas Sowell observes. “Individuals and groups have different histories, cultures, skills, and attitudes.”
What is true of high-stress spelling bees is true of workplaces and investments and college applications and entertainment: People do not randomly sort themselves out by color, background, and sex. Group disparities are not, as a rule, evil. They are normal, the result of a myriad of human choices, preferences, interests, and motivations.
The Scripps “octo-champs” are amazing spellers who worked fantastically hard to achieve something wonderful. True, they aren’t a diverse amalgam of races, colors, and ethnicities. Who cares?