An Economic Explanation for BYU-I’s Dress Standards(?)

Ashton Kutcher couldn’t walk around BYU-I like that.

As Steve highlighted earlier today,[fn1] the BYU-Idaho dress and grooming standards are arbitrary and relatively absurd. I mean, seriously, as a born-and-raised Californian, I can’t comprehend a dress code that bans flip-flops.[fn2] The dress and grooming standards can’t be all about modesty, because ankles and toes and beards, oh my! And if all they’re about is obedience, well, that’s stupid. There’s no spiritual value to obeying arbitrary rules.[fn3]

But maybe their actual function isn’t modesty. Or obedience. May it’s economics. 

The idea that the dress and grooming standards are about something other than dress and grooming isn’t new to me, of course. Nate Oman has famously posited that BYU’s dress and grooming standards allow for virtually costless rebellion (tl;dr: because the harm of violating those standards—and thus becoming a rebel—is far lower than the harm of, e.g., smoking or drinking).

But if that’s the primary purpose, BYU-I could easily adopt BYU’s much-less-strict rules; rebelling by not shaving for three days or by wearing shorts an inch above the knees is plenty easy. BYU-I students don’t need tighter restrictions to facilitate harmless rebellion.

BYU-I’s official mission statement includes providing “a quality education for students of diverse interests and abilities.” Its Pathway program is designed to provide a college education for nontraditional students who otherwise might not be able to finish a degree. And, anecdotally, I’ve seen BYU-I as being an invaluable resource for kids who otherwise may not have attended college.[fn4]

But there are a couple things that could potentially get in its way: first, BYU-I’s tuition is negligible: last year, its tuition and fees were less than $4,000 a year. That same year, the average tuition and fees for a private college were just over $30,000 a year, and just under $9,000 for in-state tuition at a state school.

That kind of tuition is tremendously attractive; theoretically, then, it should be attracting lots of applicants. Lots of applicants, though, means better students could begin to crowd out the students that BYU-I can best help. See, BYU-I accepted 99.6% of applicants in 2013. That 99.6% acceptance rate provides a student body of about 15,000 students.

I don’t have any idea what BYU-I’s capacity is, but presumably, it can’t scale up costlessly and instantly. As long as it wants to serve underserved populations, keep low tuition, and keep a high acceptance rate, then, it needs to impose some sort of cost that discourages a too-large applicant class.

Enter stupid dress and grooming rules. That is, now prospective students have to weigh the low tuition and the virtual assurance of being accepted against how much they like to wear flip-flops and capris.[fn5] The dress and grooming standards impose a steep, but non-financial, cost on attending BYU-I. Students who value their choice of clothing have to weigh the restrictions against how much they value their money. And, virtually costlessly, BYU-I can keep its high acceptance rate and its ability to reach the students it wants without being out of reach for anybody.

Which transforms the dress and grooming standards from whitewashed sepulchral rules into rational cost controls. Which I like.

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[fn1] Also, darn you Steve for getting to this before me. That’s what I get for going raspberry picking. That, and delicious, delicious raspberries.

[fn2] Though apparently they’re shoes-non-grata at my daughter’s elementary school, too. Which I also can’t comprehend.

[fn3] And don’t bother trying to argue this. Because it’s dumb. There is no–absolutely none—spiritual benefit to obeying dumb rules just because they’re rules.

[fn4] Clearly, BYU-I isn’t only for non-traditional and struggling students. It provides a special service to those students, though, and I see those students as being central to its core mission.

[fn5] And, for the record, I’m not a big fan of wearing capris myself.