HARRY JAMES WILSON has spent his time at Harvard trying to make the campus more welcoming to conservatives, and, whether by design or not, the staunchly liberal Harvard has become a bit more welcoming to "nice Republicans" such as himself over the past four years.

"When I was a freshman the Republican Club couldn't put up a poster without it being ripped down," Wilson says. "There is a sense that there is a greater tolerance. Students may not agree [with Republican positions], but they will listen."

Varela says that Wilson has been a great facilitator for campus Republicans and has helped carve a place for them on campus. "I don't think Harry has changed people's minds as much as he's given Republicans an opportunity to express their views," says Varela.

Taxin argues that Wilson has also been a strong leader. "I think he really energized the Republicans," says Taxin. "He really provided a sense of direction for people interested in Republican politics."

Certainly one part of being the "nice Republican" is who Wilson is not. When Wilson was elected president of the Republicans in December 1990, he succeeded Summer E. Anderson '92, a hard-line social conservative whose rhetoric on abortion, gays and other issues put off many moderate members of the club.

Anderson argued that if the club didn't "alienate anyone" than it was not doing its job. Wilson's mission couldn't have been more different. He envisioned a more inclusive Republican Club, a place for all shades of conservatism.

"It moved from being a small group of wealthy, white, Christian males to a large group with people of color, people of different creed and different socio-economic classes," Wilson says.

His vision of a wide and diverse group has, over the years, clashed with other campus conservatives who envision the campus right not as a "big tent," but as a small core group of students dedicated to a single narrow slate of ideas.

"Harry believes the Republican Club should be a big tent. His problem is the tent has gotten so big he's pushing people out of the back," says Robert K. Wasinger '94, an editor of Peninsula, the conservatives journal.

While most campus Democrats like and admire Wilson, Wasinger and other on the far right, nominally fellow Republicans, persistently accuse him of being unprincipled and insecure. Charges Wilson returns.

"They are irrational hateful people," he says. "They are not secure in their own convictions, and because of that, they feel they have to impose those views on others. They feel that if people do not accept them at face value then they are not 'true believers' or true conservatives."

Wilson says the difference between him and the "extremists" is that he wants people to question him and challenge him. Every question, theory and policy item is open to debate.

"Most people [at Harvard] aren't going to agree with me. But if I have a couple of hours with someone, I may not convince them, but I will at least make them, but I will at least make them understand my position," Wilson says.

And Wilson, who believes compromise is far better than unending political debates, is clearly open not only to changing minds but having his mind changed, an intellectual flexibility that has given the ideologically rigid campus right political ammunition.

"He's like seaweed. He goes with the flow," charges Wasinger.