Fairness First

AT best, the College's decision last week to turn random part of the freshman housing lottery deserves praise of the same cautious and half-hearted caliber as the spirit in which it was implemented.

At worst, the move by eight of the 12 houses to reserve one-quarter of their available space for random assignment draws charges of inconsistency--even a shade of hypocrisy--against the new system.

The Crimson originally endorsed the experimental proposal forwarded by the 12 residential house masters last fall--with the reservation that all houses must keep to the same principles. The plan forged an admirable compromise between competing claims of student choice and student diversity; the plan preserved a system of distinctive houses without sacrificing the principle of creating microcosms within the University.

As it stood, the plan would have the lottery conducted as usual, except that participating houses would take one-quarter of available spaces out of contention for assignment. As a result, all houses would fill up sooner; those students left over--a slightly larger group under the new plan--would be randomly assigned to the remaining spaces, as in past lotteries.

A random requirement does not single out athletes, artists or any other students as earlier proposals of quotas did. Limiting the random factor to 25 percent kept the restriction on student choice at a minimum, since 15 to 20 percent of freshmen face random assignment even in the current choice-based system.

Obviously, some groups detest the idea of giving up any choice at all. Freshmen, opposed to a change that directly affects them, reacted vehemently, as more than 1000 of them petitioned for a review of the plan. Withholding lottery numbers only adds insult to injury, removing the last vestige of self-determination and information left freshmen. Regrettably, the Undergraduate Council also opted for the shorter-sighted goal of preserving choice at all costs in the face of self-perpetuating stereotypes of houses that, like it or not, shape students' residential life.

In any event, the impact of the plan, as proposed, would have a moderate effect without greatly disturbing the status quo. A survey conducted last year revealed that upperclassmen find that living in a house they selected as freshmen has little bearing on their ultimate satisfaction with the house. It seems a small price to pay considering an ideal alternative, that of all 12 houses gaining a continual, mild influx of the community diversity Harvard so proudly invokes.

BUT hopes for an equitable, moderate, if not wholly popular solution are overshadowed by charges of unfairness when only certain houses participate. Is it possible to resist charges of hypocrisy when masters say, in essence, "Diversity is good in the houses, but only in some of the houses?"

At first glance, this double standard seems baffling. Does not deciding that principles of fairness and diversity for the community's good vary from house to house--or end when local domain begins--verge on arrogance, or at least misguided stubbornness?

Perhaps this sense of heedless omniscience is what council leaders like Kenneth E. Lee and former Residential Committee Chair Gregory R. Schwartz '89 object to when they complain of seeming to protest College proposals in a vacuum.

Indeed, the recent history of this plan bears out the worst fears and cynicism of students: The masters give a proposal, students object; there is discussion, students still object; the administration approves the proposal with slight, but insufficient, changes; students object.

IN this light, the decision to withhold lottery numbers fits into the general image of forlorn students crying objections to administrators from the wilderness.

We can protest only with disappointment the best of solutions implemented in the most short-sighted fashion. Students should press to keep the old lottery system until a new one can apply fairly to all.