"SIXTIES HOLDOVER" is an epithet that hangs over the head of almost any student struggling to change Harvard's mind on anything, but the issues which sparked student activism this year showed just how much time has passed since that landmark era. Students who find themselves toe-to-toe with the University on any issue with moral overtones have, indeed, tended to see themselves as part of a grand tradition of morality fighting stubborn bureaucracy--a tradition whose tools include rallies, sit-ins and hunger strikes--even when their current causes barely resemble those of the tumultuous times a when Harvard and actually seemed swayable. But the year also offered a constructive new way to bridge that gap--a promising and worthy scheme for a challenging Harvard on its own terms.

When students sat in at Lamont Library two years ago to demand all-night library facilities during reading period, their presumably paraprofessional goals cast a mocking light on their militance. And when, several weeks ago, 500 students at the Law School swept through the campus occupying buildings to protest a proposal for counting class participation towards grades--essentially an anti-cramming nor does it mean that tentative, revolutionary have outlived their usefulness. Rather, students' willingness to try such tactics even on apparently incongruous issues reflects their strong--and perceptive--instinct that they and the University can rarely negotiate in the same terms or even speak the same language.

On issues without a moral times, the problem often fades. This year showed occasionally that there were alternative to such a communications gap, as when the College's new Undergraduate Council, the first funded student government in Harvard's history, convinced College officials that they had acted too hastily in curtailing summer storage privileges. But whenever issues began to transcend the purely practical, positions polarized as swiftly as ever. And the reason--the disappointing realization which eventually comes to any student urging the University to examine its own conscience--was Harvard's nature as a completely pragmatic institution.

THE ISSUE OF investment ethics, especially in regard to South Africa, tends to offer the perfect battleground for matters of ethics versus dollars--and this year, the divestiture question showcased a new and constructive way for students to break the deadlock. The Endowment for Divestiture, an imaginative alternative to the Senior Class Gift Fund, has spent the last few months soliciting donations to be held in escrow for 20 years. The money will go to Harvard if and when Harvard divests of stock in companies doing business in South Africa or the United Nations "clears" that nation by rescinding its sanctions against the apartheid regime. If time runs out, the money will be donated to a natural charity by the Undergraduates Council, the fund's administrator.

The Endowment for Divestiture is a milestone deserving of support, not only because of its just cause but because it allows student to fight a Harvard policy with Harvard's own tools. Attempts to engage Harvard in ethical dialogue on divestiture has proved extremely frustrating; indeed, the University's responses to such efforts have been so insensitive as to approach the ludicrous. In April, another group of students launched a hunger strike to press the divestiture issue, emulating a similar (and unsuccessful) initiative at Williams College in January. Dean of the College John B. Fox Jr. '59, heard of the strike but said he was "not disturbed" by it; in fact, he said, he was "pleased the students have found a way of expressing their views." Corporation Treasure George '49 was even more forthright. He laughed openly and said, "That's their preference."

THAT HARVARD cares more about its balance sheet then its consciences becomes clear in other, smaller ways throughout any student's career have. A coalition of Third World and women's groups found themselves in confrontation with the Freshmen's Dean's Office (FDO) this month when the FDO refused the list their organizations' orientation events on the official Freshmen Week calendar, FDO officials argued that the events were "separatist" but the students--who rallied outside the office for several days--pointed out convincingly that Harvard's cares to make them feel at home only when it is immediately useful to do so; earlier this fall the College briefly floated the idea that Radcliffe's official student government might no longer the necessary. And the Faculty's percentage of women and minorities granted tenure remains embarrassingly low.

Every Commencement, returning alumni get a particularly vivid demonstration of Harvard's pragmatism. From one side, the University's familiar agents hold out their many hands, palm up, underlining the power alumni carry in their purses. And from the other, typically, students and other groups, beg alumni to use that power of the purse for moral causes--to translate their concerns into the only language the University is likely to listen to.

The value of the Endowment for Divestiture, which has amassed more than $5000 already from graduating seniors and is now expanding its goal to alumni in general, goes beyond its ability to reconcile a desire to effect ethical change with a need to negotiate on Harvard's level. More important, the Endowment will keep alive the realization that as long as Harvard's major policies are formed by a small group of Corporation members behind closed doors, with only advisory input from any other University constituency, that level--with its moral limitations--will remain the only one on which Harvard can be approached. Alumni and graduating seniors alike should give, and give generously, to the Endowment for Divestiture--as much out of sadness that such tactics are necessary as out of support for the pragmatism that may save the drive from futility.