Tell Someone Lies

Any institution as self-righteous and insular as Harvard requires someone to keep it reasonable and honest. On our fair campus, that individual is Kenan Professor of Government Harvey C. Mansfield, Jr. '53. Once again, Professor Mansfield has hit the nail right on the head. At a faculty meeting last week, he pointed out that Harvard's sexual harassment guidelines are unfair to men and violate academic freedom.

One of Mansfield's targets was the ridiculous "Tell Someone" leaflet, which Harvard provides to all of its students in order to give them important information (read: propaganda) about sexual harassment. I recently picked up a copy of this brochure from University Hall. Let's take a peek, shall we?

Under the section of the leaflet entitled "Examples of Sexual Harassment," the following quote appears as one among six: "My adviser has repeatedly asked me out to dinner. I have told him that I am not interested, but he reminds me every so often that he hopes I've changed my mind..."

Wow. I want to begin by saying that I'm so glad I finally picked up a copy of this leaflet. I didn't even realize it, but I've been sexually harassed--twice. Before I got my mint green copy of "Tell Someone," I didn't know that mere invitations to dine with a professor--delivered without any physical action, veiled threat or crude innuendo--could constitute harassment.

Thanks to "Tell Someone," I'm now in touch with all of my pent-up anger and pain. Now I know that I was a victim. So I've decided to come forward and share my experience with the Crimson's readers. In the words of the leaflet, I've made the brave decision to "TELL SOMEONE!" (I owe the melodramatic capitalization and punctuation to the leaflet.) Now back in my unenlightened days, I was naive enough to think that the two professors who invited me to lunch were simply showing a genuine concern for students that is all too rare at a place like Harvard. But now I know the truth. They weren't conscientious faculty members doing their jobs. They were harassing swine.

Now Professor Mansfield raises the issue of false accusations, the possibility of "an accuser of inferior status bringing down a person of superior status." Other critics of harassment policy ramble on about "due process" and "rights of the accused." I say this to them: How dare they speak of meaningless technicalities and procedural niceties in the wake of my trauma! I've been harassed. I don't care how many heads must roll and how many careers must be ruined. I want justice.

Speaking seriously, I recognize that sexual harassment is a real problem. The anecdote I've just presented should not be interpreted as my brushing harassment off as a non-issue. (So please don't bombard me with tear-jerking letters from self-described harassment victims trying to raise my awareness.)

If we define serious problems like sexual harassment and rape too broadly, these concepts lose their meaning. The "Tell Someone" brochure is deeply problematic for precisely this reason. In response to the question "What Can I Do If I Think I Am the Victim of Sexual Harassment?," the brochure tells students to do what our furry friends the animals do: "Trust your instincts." The brochure asks students to ignore their God-given rationality when evaluating whether or not they've been harassed. Why don't you rely on the squishiness of feelings instead?

The brochure is not only stupid; it's dangerous. Of course we need mechanisms for dealing with sexual harassment charges. But the leaflet, in its excessive fear of intimidating "victims" into silence, doesn't discourage frivolous or irrational complaints. As Mansfield pointed out, the booklet as currently written constitutes "a veritable incitement to make a mountain out of a mole-hill." While only the most desperate or evil students would take advantage of this fact (along with students who have watched Oleanna too much), the brochure offers those who feel they've been treated unfairly a way of getting back at their professor. "Tell Someone" should be renamed. My nomination: "Tell Someone Lies, Tell Them Sweet Little Lies."

David B. Lat's column appears on alternate Tuesdays.