The Decline of a Tradition: Winter Carnival

More so than even the other Ivy League schools, Dartmouth depends on cultural tradition as a bulwark of its campus community. Of course, tradition is easily visible in the on-campus social life of the College. Situated as it is in rural New Hampshire, Dartmouth’s relative isolation foists its social scene into century-old Greek houses. More fundamentally, a sense of tradition ties the disparate Dartmouth classes together, creating an idea of Dartmouth that spans decades, even as most students leave the College after four years. Each undergraduate is inducted into a series of traditions that lend themselves to a suite of shared experiences that foster the Dartmouth identity. 

Unfortunately, recent years have seen the decline of many such storied traditions. Certainly from the turn of the century, if not earlier, and accelerating dramatically during the COVID interregnum, a number of core Dartmouth traditions have precipitously declined—to the point that they no longer play a major role in College life. The Homecoming Bonfire is one example to that end, having been neutered by the administration and town government. 

But Winter Carnival is the poster child for these forgotten traditions. Once a principal part of Dartmouth’s culture, drawing crowds of participants to rush out into the winter wonderland of Hanover, New Hampshire, now it is merely a footnote in the winter academic term, a bump on the road just after midterms but before finals. 

This year’s Winter Carnival was especially dismal. The College canceled most of the headline events. Gone were the polar plunge, the snow sculpture on the Green, and the snowshoe racing, among other longtime staples of the weekend. A series of well-meaning but diminutive ice sculptures were the only real sign that anything special had taken place at all, and even those quickly melted away. 

Not wanting to unjustly deride the College, we must make clear that much of the blame for the dismal Carnival this year can be placed squarely at the feet of the weather. It was, regrettably, quite warm during the week of Winter Carnival, making the “winter” aspect somewhat farcical. The snow, while present, was wet and soggy, a far cry from the pristine powder that features so prominently in old depictions of Carnival. The Nordic ski races at Oak Hill proved suitable only due to the facility’s ability to make fake snow. Incredibly, the course was actively melting as the race was in progress.

The warm weather also quickly melted the ice sculptures. Already small and unremarkable in quality, any noticeable features rapidly disappeared, leaving only chunks of unintelligible ice. Skiing, ice skating, and snowball fighting, classic aspects of Winter Carnival, were similarly rendered difficult or impossible by the harsh gaze of the sun. Ski races were poorly attended, and it seemed rather an inconvenience for the College to host them. The school spirit that used to surround these events exists only in received memory. 

However, the weather cannot reasonably be expected to serve as the sole explanation for the failure of Winter Carnival. For one thing, organizers made no real effort to compensate for the warmer weather. Rather than reschedule any of the events for a colder weekend, they decided simply to cancel them for the year. For instance, the polar plunge—which only two years ago saw so many students queue for a chance that the staff had to turn people away—was simply called off, when it could easily have been held a week later. Once notification of this event’s cancellation was sent out, campus grew increasingly disappointed and indifferent about the weekend’s minimal remaining festivities.

The College puts so much effort into making the polar plunge as safe and sterile as possible that one would think it could find a way to hold it on another day. The ice sculptures were left to melt in the sun when they could easily have been preserved longer by simply placing them under an awning. It seems as though the College has become lazier and more apathetic in its efforts to sustain such traditions as these. Its choice not to plan boldly has facilitated the cultural ruin of the event.

Of course, Carnival was in decline for years before the total disappointment in 2024. While the absence of some features this year can be blamed in part on the weather, the long-term decline of the event cannot simply be chalked up to warm temperatures and unfortunate timing. To be sure, the whole of campus has been putting less and less effort into Carnival through the years. 

Ski competitions have given way to snowshoe races across the Green, and the College now advertises Baker Tower Tours instead of anything having to do with the actual winter. Where once students would work together to erect a giant snow sculpture every year, now we must make do with mediocre ice sculptures. Mainstays like the former campus-wide dance have given way to small day parties thrown by a handful of fraternities. And this year, even the day parties were half hearted and not well attended. 

We students just don’t seem to care about Carnival anymore. We behaved as if it were just any other weekend. This attitude can be ascribed partly to low expectations. A few sub-par years weakened any enthusiasm for the event, insofar as no students on campus remember when Winter Carnival was actually worth going to. There is also the issue of the scheduling of the event within the term. This year’s Carnival took place during midterm season, when most of campus was far too preoccupied to frolic around in the snow (or slush, if you will).

There was doubtless a time when Dartmouth students would gladly skip the library for a day to go skiing, but no longer. The quarter system, combined with Dartmouth’s considerable degree of academic rigor, is another fundamental reason for the decline of Winter Carnival. One wonders whether the idea of Dartmouth will persist, as everything that underpins it threatens to fade into a dim memory.