Stop Complaining, Start Boycotting

Harvard students love to complain.

We’re concerned about global warming, global AIDS and globalization. We form organizations to “raise awareness,” but too often that’s where things stop. Fortunately, some students aren’t content to just complain. The recent call for seniors to boycott the Senior Gift until Harvard sells its stock in PetroChina is a rare and worthwhile attempt to get Harvard students to act.

The PetroChina case demands action in a way few causes do. PetroChina, by doing business with the government of Sudan, is providing some of the money that has been used to kill 340,000 non-Arab Africans. Harvard’s money is contributing to mass murder. This isn’t some far off problem where people we’ll never meet are killing other people we’ll never meet. The University we all attend owns part of a corporation that is funding genocide.

I don’t intend to replay the argument against PetroChina or Harvard’s stake in it. The students who helped launch the divestment campaign have made a compelling case that the Sudanese government is perpetrating genocide and that Harvard, through its stake in PetroChina, is complicit in Sudan’s actions. You can find more information on the issue at www.harvarddivest.com. Most of the facts that divestment advocates cite are not disputed, but it’s worth addressing a few of the claims made by Harvard’s apologists.

First, some at Harvard and in the international community claim that what is happening in Sudan is not genocide. While nobody disputes that many of the paramilitary groups funded by the Sudanese government intend to perpetrate genocide, some have claimed that the government of Sudan does not itself wish to wipe out all non-Arab Africans. If that helps you sleep at night, I suppose you can ignore the issue. I personally have trouble calming my conscience by claiming that the atrocities in Sudan are genocide in effect but not in intent.

Other Harvard apologists point out that PetroChina is only an affiliate of the Chinese National Petroleum Company (CNPC), the company that actually does business in Sudan. While this is technically true, it is a little like saying Harvard College shouldn’t be held responsible for Harvard University’s practices because it is only one part of the University. The CNPC owns more than 80 percent of PetroChina. Profits from PetroChina find their way into CNPC hands and vice versa. What’s more, a recent restructuring plan may put the CNPC’s Sudanese investments directly into PetroChina’s hands. Still, the exact logistical arrangment is irrelevant; Harvard money is flowing to one of the most brutal regimes on the planet. It doesn’t matter how it gets there.

But what really angers me about the divestment issue is that so many people who believe that Harvard should divest seem to think that students shouldn’t do anything about it. The latest manifestation of this predilection for inaction came in response to a call by Matthew W. Mahan ’05 and Brandon M. Terry ’05 for seniors to boycott the Senior Gift. I don’t know how many seniors have heeded Mahan and Terry’s call, but I have been shocked by the number of proud progressives who have some gripe with their actions.

The objections come from two sides. Some people argue that a Senior Gift boycott is really just a symbolic effort, since the money is such a small percentage of the University’s endowment. But the Gift’s chief value is as a propaganda tool. Harvard uses the Senior Gift to show alums that seniors are happy. Even if students are complaining about Harvard’s policies, donations to the Senior Gift are seen by alums as evidence that Harvard is still a good target for largesse. If alums find out that students are angry because Harvard is complicit in genocide, they might decide to send their money somewhere else. Though Harvard would never admit a connection, alumni boycotts on donations preceded Harvard’s selective divestment from South African assets during the reign of the apartheid government. The Senior Gift may not be a lot of money, but students have a lot of power if they are willing to put their money where their mouths are.

The other argument against Mahan and Terry’s plan is that the Senior Gift makes Harvard’s generous financial aid program possible. Taken literally, this argument is so obviously bogus that it’s not really worth disputing. The Senior Gift produces roughly $30,000 a year, roughly 0.05 percent of the Harvard College Fund that the Gift goes into. That’s nowhere near enough money to make any real difference in the amount of financial aid we receive. What those who make this argument understand is that student giving has an influence on alumni giving. If students refuse to give $30,000, alums might refuse to give $30 million.

But even if fundraising falls, Harvard students won’t automatically receive less financial aid. Harvard would have to decide whether or not to cut financial aid programs as a response to the drop in fundraising, and it alone would bear the responsibility for that decision. Furthermore, Harvard has no incentive to cut financial aid—which keeps the Univeristy competitive among its peer institutions—first. We have no reason to think Harvard wouldn’t find some source of money to make up for a lull in donations.

Mahan and Terry have set up an account where concerned students can donate to Senior Gift without supporting Harvard’s human rights record. If Harvard divests in the next six months, the money will go to the Harvard College Fund, where Senior Gift donations normally go. If not, the money goes to the Carr Center for Human Rights, a Harvard program that promotes human rights around the world. Mahan and Terry are giving students an opportunity to support Harvard and take a stand for human rights at the same time.

Boycotting the Senior Gift may not seem like a radical act, but it is a concrete action against our University’s policy. We’ve petitioned, pleaded, and argued long enough. It’s time to stop complaining and do something.

Samuel Simon ’06 is a social studies concentrator in Eliot House. His column appears on alternate Wednesdays.