Through long years of experience, Harvard has learned the value of its reputation for indifference. What would scores of toastmasters, coaches, and Harvard Presidents have said without the magic words: "Harvard may be indifferent about some things, but not about this!"? Without Harvard indifference to break down, what would the Associated Harvard Clubs meeting in New York this weekend do? All that energy, all that elbow-bending, all that glad-handing, would go for nothing. Without indifference, the meeting would be just like any other school-boy get-together.

Just take one example. Here is a rule of the New York meeting: "If your guest is overbearing, picture him in his B.V.D.'s to restore your poise. 'No man is a hero, etc.'" It sounds like a great idea but without a considerable smattering of indifference it would be decidedly risky. To a Harvard man it might be enough to "picture" a man in his B.V.D.'s, and let it go at that. Decorum would be preserved, except in the mind of one timid fellow, busy with his visions, wondering whether that blustering professor facing him prefers red flannels or striped silk, front or back buttons. Perhaps a nervous giggle, an appraising glance over the rim of his highball glass, and it would all be over. Conversation would again flow unchecked. It is a beautiful equilibrium of forces, but, lacking indifference, it would almost certainly topple. Before the elbow had bent many more times, the danger point would come, the hand reach forth, and--. The lesson is clear enough: our indifference is a priceless asset. It leaves us something to work on, something to challenge us. The Associated Harvard Clubs meeting is answering the challenge without, as the rules say, "aprosexia," "anhedonia," or "serendipity." That just about ought to do it.