Facing the Scars of Final Clubs

Last night, getting a jump on the weekend, I headed out in pursuit of a party. Sniffing for scents of beer beneath the chimney smoke, I observed a familiar November sight: tuxedoed men walking briskly arm and arm. 'Tis the season of the Great Final Dinners. Yes, it's the time I always await; the final round of punching for the institution of which I am most proud: final clubs. So I made some small talk. I straightened a tie. I offered a stick of gum. And I confirmed that they all had sexy girls coming to meet them after they got good and drunk. But as I walked away in cynicism, I realized the punch event was the only party on or near campus, and many of my female friends were attending. And so, my eagerness to socialize unfulfilled, I returned home.

I am not against drinking and partying, but I have problems with final clubs. I am not against many of the members, but I have problems with the values the clubs propagate. Although only a small minority of the student body belongs to a club, most of the community has assumptions or opinions about them. Many people are strongly in favor of the clubs. Many of these people are my friends. But there are also many of us who object to the clubs, for a variety of reasons.

I am offended by the attitude of supremacy that I sense in members when I set foot in a final club. Members appear above the law, above morality. The club environment enables each member to circumscribe his universe, positioning himself at the all-powerful center. Clubs check the normal growth and maturation which allow most of us to realize the effects our actions have on other people and on our community. This ethic of supremacy oozes into society, into our homes and offices, including the Oval Office.

For my first three years at Harvard, I tolerated this ethic and, like many other fun-seekers, went to final club parties. I listened to members call women "sweetheart" and "honey." I heard members tempt successive women with trips to Barbados and the Bahamas. I watched members' eyes roam hungrily down passing women's bodies as they were kissing another woman on both cheeks. Though perhaps not unique to the clubs, such behavior forms an indecent backdrop, a disturbing undertone guests are forced to endure.

Rising from this backdrop are policies that demonstrate the clubs' male chauvinism. Men are asked to arrive at punch events several hours before their dates are allowed to arrive. During all-male hours, members mingle with punches and everyone gets fairly drunk. Then the dates pour in, the next act in the evening's program.

A lavish setting, a vodka-tonic, a tray of hors d'oeuvres, then well-dressed dates for everyone--the dynamic is unhealthy. It doesn't matter whether the women enter knowingly; the club's policies create a dangerous dichotomy between the "socially relaxed host," who provides the space, the drinks and the "good time," and an often sober incoming guest.

Many clubs have Punch Books in which club members comment on the performance of punches at such events. In these books I've seen comments such as, "This guy pulls mad trim, must admit," translating to, "This punch will attract a lot of women, accept him." Other comments detail how "cool" a punch is, who his girlfriend is and other superficial descriptions related to his prowess in attracting women.

The situation doesn't improve when punch season ends. I know a woman who left a club in tears after hearing countless comments such as, "There's a nice set of breasts." I've been to parties where members threw and broke chairs and tables, letting the maids clean up the next morning. And I've watched some of my male friends change, becoming more superficial and chauvinistic, and less committed to their friends and to their integrity, after they became members.

The problem, it seems, stems largely from the clubs' monopoly on the Harvard party scene. If there were more options for students to drink or dance elsewhere, we wouldn't need to tolerate the attitudes and actions of members. But like all monopolies, final clubs determine their own morals and policies. With power comes responsibility. But the morals and policies club members choose are irresponsible.

Clubs could accept women as equal members. Though this wouldn't solve all their problems, admitting women would reduce the misogyny and would liberate women from their permanent guest status. But single sex clubs don't need to be misogynistic or disrespectful. We could have more established female clubs or other male clubs that demonstrate decency. Or we could cleanse the existing clubs; sensitive members could stand up for policies that reflect the better parts of their character.

Each year we graduate another class that bears the moral scars of final clubs. Each graduating class enters a world in which voices of morality are frighteningly silent. Two of my bosses have made sexual advances on female co-workers. I have friends whose parents are having affairs. We have a President whose astonishing lack of principle we know all too well.

Like with all social ills, we struggle to discern the genealogy of this corruption, and we seek an entry point where we can begin to improve a situation. First and foremost, our values develop in our families. But as we grow up, communities play an increasingly large role. These communities--such as the Harvard community--leave an indelible mark on the individuals who leave them.

The Harvard community is infected by final clubs. In turn, the clubs do their part to poison our nation. That contribution may well be small, but it is still a harmful one. We all want to have fun, but fun unfortunately has a price. The final club dynamic is unacceptable, yet it has become a social norm. If we do nothing, if members never speak out against their policies and we still flock to their doors, the clubs will continue to feed an increasingly unvirtuous society.

David B. Friedland '99-'00 is an English and philosophy concentrator in Leverett House.

Each year we graduate another class that bears the moral scars of final clubs. Each graduating class enters a world in which voices of morality are frighteningly silent. Two of my bosses have made sexual advances on female co-workers. I have friends whose parents are having affairs. We have a President whose astonishing lack of principle we know all too well.

Like with all social ills, we struggle to discern the genealogy of this corruption, and we seek an entry point where we can begin to improve a situation. First and foremost, our values develop in our families. But as we grow up, communities play an increasingly large role. These communities--such as the Harvard community--leave an indelible mark on the individuals who leave them.

The Harvard community is infected by final clubs. In turn, the clubs do their part to poison our nation. That contribution may well be small, but it is still a harmful one. We all want to have fun, but fun unfortunately has a price. The final club dynamic is unacceptable, yet it has become a social norm. If we do nothing, if members never speak out against their policies and we still flock to their doors, the clubs will continue to feed an increasingly unvirtuous society.

David B. Friedland '99-'00 is an English and philosophy concentrator in Leverett House.