Harvard's New Party Line

The government of the Peoples' Republic of China, like the Harvard administration, is not particularly interested in revealing its inner workings to the world--so what people in the West know about China these days comes mostly from an assortment of small clues, bits and snatches of the Party Line revealed in posters, newspapers, party conventions and the subtlest nuances of protocol.

China-watching and Harvard administration-watching have their similarities. At Harvard the administration doesn't put up ideological posters, its coups are minor and bloodless, and who sits next to whom at official dinners is probably of less moment here than in the mysterious East. But the opportunities for finding out what the Harvard administration is really thinking are nevertheless few and far between--and easy to miss.

The best opportunity for figuring out the administration's line comes at alumni functions, the Harvard equivalent of a Chinese May Day celebration. During the last weekend in September, for instance, the big guns of the administration spoke to the annual meeting of the representatives of the Harvard College Fund and revealed the most complete version to date of the Party Line on merger and admissions.

Harvard administrators would never have called the Fund an official unveiling of a new policy, of course; they tend to preface their statements on issues by insisting that they are only stating their personal opinions. But the personal opinions are all more or less identical, and seem to represent substantial prior discussion and agreement.

The big news of the September Fund meeting was that everybody--only stating their personal opinions, of course--came out for what they like to call "equal access" admissions. Dean Rosovsky also said he personally favors full Harvard-Radcliffe merger, and President Bok, asked about it later, agreed that speaking for himself merger did seem like a good idea.

None of this came as any great surprise to veteran administration-watchers, because the administration has been inching toward equal access and merger in its speeches to alumni for about a year. Last fall, Bok started to hint that equal access might be a good idea, although he resolutely refused to endorse it, and both admissions deans came out strongly for equal access. Speeches to alumni began to focus almost exclusively on the role of women in the University, with the personal opinions being more strongly stated with each with each succeeding alumni conference. All of these announcements are important, because it's unlikely that people like Bok and Rosovsky would come out in favor of something unless there is a good chance that it will happen.

BUT JUST AS INTERESTING as what the administrators are saying is how they say it, especially in light of their audience. Harvard College Fund representatives, like most alumni, are a delicate and important lot, with interests substantially different from those of undergraduates. The Fund raises about one tenth of the Faculty's operating budget every year--an amount that, Rosovsky says, used to represent "the frosting on the cake" but now, with times hard, "the difference between slow bankruptcy and rapid bankruptcy."

The values of Fund representatives and their notions of what Harvard is and should be are probably unfamiliar to undergraduates. Most students in the College could be convinced that equal access is good by the simple rhetoric of equality--it is better because it is fairer. But that kind of argument is less persuasuve with alumni, who measure the present Harvard against the male-dominated University they attended and remember fondly. One alumnus stood up during a symposium last month and said, "My experience is that this is a men's college, and I wonder if that isn't a value worth preserving." The rhetoric of equality by itself just won't convince these people.

So the administration used a new rhetoric on the alumni--a rhetoric of quality. Over and over, they stressed that Harvard is in danger of losing its uniqueness, and justified their support of new programs by arguing that they would help keep Harvard special.

For example:

L. Fred Jewett '57, dean of admissions and financial aid, on tuition costs: "The kind of product we offer to students makes a difference. People are willing to pay for quality if it's there. We have to keep Harvard different and unique."

Rosovsky, on reforming undergraduate education: When you sell an education for $7000 and you suspect other places are offering a similar product for less, you've got to be sure you'll be offering something very special for the next 10 to 15 years. If you're going to sell a Rolls-Royce, you've got to make sure people are getting their money's worth."

All this is partly a response to how expensive Harvard is; once the cost of an education here gets completely out of hand you can only argue, like the Chivas Regal company, that you get what you pay for. Nobody, after all, would drink Chivas if it weren't the best.

But besides that, the threat of a decline in Harvard's quality must strike very close to home for alumni, who are proud to have attended what they consider the best college in America. If the College becomes a training school, it would be a blow to alumni egos worse even than losing the Yale game. So the quality argument is a potent one in dealing with alumni, and it can be used to justify anything from high tuitions to equal access, which Rosovsky told one worried alumnus will ensure that Harvard gets the best possible students.

Administration-watching is a tricky business, because it relies so much on piecemeal information and guesswork and because the administration speaks its mind on important issues to alumni, not students. But the administration seems to be in a retrenching period, brought on by financial woes and slipping reputation, that has resulted in a subtle shift in its line. The important thing to remind alumni now is that Harvard needs their money for vitally important things, not just frills. The problem with the argument that surfaced in last month's alumni meeting is that it implies that equality is a mere nicety that pales by comparison with the importance of being Number One.