Perched in a chair outside the Undergraduate Assembly president’s door, I felt what can only be described as “child–outside–the–principal’s–office” anticipation. I wasn’t facing any sanctions, mind you; this was just where Musab Chummun (C ’27) had suggested we meet for this interview. Imagining what lies behind the wooden door, I conjured up images of a harsh, sterile space: fluorescent lights, an intimidating wooden desk, barren walls. What I found instead was more reminiscent of a living room. The walls were full of pictures and notes from ghosts of UA past, and the only seating options were two cozy chairs next to the windows. Sitting alongside Musab in these very chairs, I found my expectations challenged in a similar way: Instead of the formal exterior I’ve come to associate with his presidency, he’s just a regular student with a strong love for advocacy, Penn, and Chess.com.
Name: Musab Chummun
Hometown: Redmond, Washington
Field(s) of Interest: Major in PPE, minor in legal studies and history
Involvement: Undergraduate Assembly, Penn Debate Society, Muslim Student Association, Sphinx Senior Society
What prompted you to get and stay involved with the UA?
I’ve always been involved in student government. I’ve been doing student government since I was in sixth grade, and all throughout high school. Once I came to Penn, I realized that there is such an opportunity for change not only within the University, but also within Philadelphia and the United States. I saw the UA as a platform to tangibly create that change. When I started in UA as a freshman, I felt as though the UA’s structure, ability, and members were capable of doing so much more. Then my junior year came along, and the president at the time and I were thinking that there needed to be a reframing of the UA. We wanted to get students into the room where the decisions were being made. The goal this year is to not only be in the room, but to be the ones making the decisions.
How do you make sure you’re taken seriously by both students and faculty?
With students, engagement with the UA’s work starts with awareness. Our job is not only to make them aware of issues facing the school, but to make them care. Sometimes that’s platforming large issues, or just explaining why their voice matters and what they can do. A very prominent example of this is the recent issues we’ve had with open expression. The average Penn student doesn’t care about open expression, mostly because they weren’t here during the encampments, but also because on a day–to–day basis, they’re not thinking about it. So our job is to make them care about the issues, and that goes hand in hand with them caring about what the UA actually does.
With faculty, one of the guiding principles that I hold is that there are values that we should always be advocating for, whether that’s the idea that open expression needs to be truly open, that students need to feel protected on campus, or that we want a campus that is true to its educational values and mission. I’ll advocate for those, and I think the administration understands and respects that motivation. They know what it’s like to be a 21–year–old leading a group, and I think they recognize that we’re a serious group that can actually create change on campus. They respect us and entertain our ideas.
What was the biggest issue you inherited as president of UA and what have you done to resolve it?
A mindset of apathy, both within the University and within the UA itself. My freshman year, probably about 5–10% of the people in the University knew what the UA was. Fast forward to now, and I’d say it’s probably 80–90%. We made these changes by creating a communications committee, rolling out a lot of media, shifting our comms strategy, and thinking more about why we’re doing what we do as an assembly. I think I inherited a UA that wanted to focus on the small things and not set larger goals for what we could be doing. Partially, I think this is because it’s very difficult to break precedent when you jump into something that’s existed for 50 years. You think, “Okay, this is how things have always been done. Surely there’s a reason for it.” But that’s obviously a fallacy, right? If you can’t justify why something’s being done, then you probably don’t have a good reason to be doing it.
Also, there’s always external pressures on what people think the UA should be like. The protests that marked my freshman year put a cage around what was possible. The broader Penn community, both students and faculty alike, saw the UA as one small student government group that couldn’t really be taken that seriously. Now, Moe [Mansour (C ’27)] and I have been able to break through that ceiling by turning the UA into something bigger.
How do you balance all your commitments, academic or otherwise?
I always think of the Eileen Gu quote: “Doing one thing is a break from another thing.” Doing UA is a break from my academics (although maybe I’ve been taking too many academic breaks), and doing academic work is a break from extracurriculars. Of course, I’ve been very lucky to find people who will always be there for me, whether that’s my roommates, who I can come home and talk to late at night, or my family, who I can call and catch up with. The other thing is that I have a very positive mindset towards the workload. I only take classes I’m passionate about, I only do extracurriculars I’m passionate about, and I only hang out with people I’m passionate about and interested in. It’s very hard to get burnt out or disillusioned when this is exactly what I wanted to do.
What’s the hardest lesson you’ve learned in the past four years?
I’ve had to get good at being comfortable with uncertainty. I came into Penn and I was like, “I’m gonna be a human rights lawyer. At this age, I’m gonna be doing this.” I was so confident in the path ahead. And then I did a full 180, not because I got disillusioned with pursuing an ambitious goal, but because I thought that human rights law specifically was not the most effective. So the question came to me: “Okay, this is not the best way to change the world. What is then?” And I still have no clue. But I think tying yourself down too fast is definitely a big mistake. I forget who said it, but there’s a quote that goes, “Knowing what you want prevents you from finding out what you want.” Penn is such a unique place in that it’s dominated by such a conformist culture. I’ve seen so many kids who give up on their dreams, and I think one of my biggest gripes with the school is that people here shoot too short. I’ve seen so many friends from New Student Orientation freshman year who had these grand ideas about what they wanted to pursue—fast forward three years later, those ideas are completely gone. Obviously, a lot of it is valid and born of externalities and other concerns. But at the same time, it has taken so much belief in myself to be able to turn my back and take a non–traditional path. It’s not out of ego or arrogance; I don’t think I’m better for doing this. I just had to rationalize it to myself and commit to what I know is best for me.
What does leadership mean to you? How has that definition shifted?
I think leadership is best described as genuine love and cold intelligence. In any leadership position, you have a decision–making responsibility. But you have to make those decisions by translating your passions into the best logistical outcome. Externally facing leadership is a means of galvanizing others, being able to motivate and inspire other people to achieve a certain task, whether that’s at the smallest level in a group project or at the highest level when you’re leading an entire institution. I used to think that there was one kind of personality that was conducive to leadership, but now I think the characteristics required to be a strong leader are different for every single person. I definitely have realized that leadership requires you to deal with people with very disparate interests, who sometimes come into decision–making like it’s a negotiation where they need to win. Having to navigate those interpersonal relationships has taught me how to deal with other people better, like knowing when to be more understanding and when to hold a harder line when it comes to my principles. I’ve also had to adapt to much higher stakes. In high school, a lot of the leadership work is really cool, but you still have significant support and a safety net. Now, if I screw up, 90 people rely on me. $3 million might go to waste. Ten thousand people who are represented by us will be affected. It’s a different level of pressure, but I’m very glad to have that pressure. It’s definitely a privilege.
When talking about leadership, you used the term “patient decisiveness.” How do you define that?
Patient decisiveness is a core part of leadership that you face when you need to make a decision. The question then is: “Is this a decision that you have to make at this moment, or can you make it some other time?” Especially when you’re younger, you want to rush things—but then you fall into the trap of thinking that because something is a problem right now, you need to figure it out right now. I think having the ability to deal with some degree of uncertainty is important, and then being able to table issues and return when you can make a more informed decision is just as important. It’s especially necessary to get as much information as you can when the decisions have a lot of weight to them, and they’re affecting how people will act and live and work.
What are your long–term aspirations?
It’s simply to create the most amount of positive change in the world, whether that’s institutionally in human rights, or politically, or in any other way. I’m very, very unsure of how that’ll happen or how I’ll have to get there, but that’s a problem for later. I think the best way to live life and create the most change is to have this north star, which for me is that I want to change the world for the better. I want to create the most amount of justice. I want to uplift people around the world, and I don’t need a specific path there. I just need to know the next few steps, and for me, the next few steps are, like, going to law school, maybe doing a fellowship, maybe focusing on some relevant extracurriculars, and the rest just comes.
There’s a nice quote from Muhammad Ali when a reporter asked him, “What do you want your legacy to be?” This guy is a famous boxer. He’s an amazing civil rights activist. You would think that he would want his legacy to be as the best boxer or the best civil rights orator ever. But, all he said was, “I just want to be someone who spreads kindness.” I definitely resonate with that. I don’t need a building named after me. I don’t need people to remember any big things I did. I just hope that I’ll have left people feeling as though they’ve been bettered by either my own character or my service. Legacy itself is something that I’m not too worried about. I also don’t think it is something to worry about. There’s more ego in legacy than there is honor in it.
Lightning Round Questions:
Least favorite spot on Penn’s campus: Williams Hall. It’s so dusty, depressing, and grey.
Favorite NYT game: Connections.
Favorite way to unwind: Watching Reels in bed.
Something no one would expect about you: I played lacrosse for five years before coming to Penn.
There are two types of people at Penn … Those who play Chess.com in class and those who don’t.
And you are … Obviously, the former.
