Until this year, I never gave my diploma much thought-beyond, of course, hoping that the College will see fit to bestow one on me in the spring of 2000. I'll probably get it framed or put in a safe scrapbook album next to my high school certificate. But the recent debate over the format of our diplomas (both as regards the language in which they are written and the signatures which appear on them) has given me the chance to consider what all the fuss is about and what exactly I want my diploma to look like if I ever get it.

Diplomas are tangibly rather flimsy--a piece of paper with some calligraphy and seals (not the handsome sheepskin of old), oversized and suitable for framing--but symbolically they're worth their weight in gold, representing four years of blood, sweat and toil and, as our parents would hasten to point out, upwards of $120,000. What, if anything, our diplomas should actually symbolize beyond our own hard work is the question raised by the two Undergraduate Council bills recently addressed by Dean of the College Harry R. Lewis '68.

For me, as a Classics concentrator, the Latin question is naturally an easy one to answer. Of course our diplomas should be in Latin. The language may not be universally studied as it once was, but it remains the language of the educational tradition on which this school (and colleges and universities around the world) was founded. To return to Latin would be to acknowledge that tradition. As for the argument that very few of us take Latin anymore and therefore couldn't read our diplomas, I have two responses: first, the Latin on a diploma is not complex and we know what it should be saying-we just need to make sure our names are spelled correctly. Second, by not using our everyday English speech to convey an extraordinary achievement, we raise the significance of the certificate.

The signature question is a little more complex. As it stands now, Harvard male undergraduates receive a diploma with the seals of Harvard University and Harvard College and the signatures of President Neil L. Rudenstine and Dean Lewis. Female undergraduates receive a diploma with the seals of Harvard University and Radcliffe College and the signatures of Rudenstine and Radcliffe President Linda S. Wilson. The initial bill proposed in the council to make the diplomas equal did not specify the way in which such equality could be created. The bill was then modified to request that Dean Lewis' signature be on all diplomas while leaving the Radcliffe seal and signature intact on women's diplomas. It seems to me that the idea of equality was lost in favor of a "separate and unequal" principle.

Though the sponsors of the bill implied that a complex problem could be solved with a quick stroke of the pen, Dean Lewis was right not to sign the bill. A change in the format of the diplomas is necessary, but the one ultimately proposed by the council is the wrong one. Harvard undergraduates--male and female--receive the same education, and their diplomas, symbols of the successful completion of that education, should be the same as well. To put it bluntly, all diplomas should have the Harvard University and College seals, Rudenstine and Lewis' signatures and nothing else. A foolish consistency would make me a supporter of keeping Radcliffe on the diplomas for the sake of tradition, but in the case of diplomas it is a matter of degree; in the case of Radcliffe it is a matter not only of degree but of kind: Radcliffe is not the Radcliffe of old.

Any change in the diplomas bestowed upon female undergraduates would require a renegotiation of the 1977 agreement between Harvard and Radcliffe which delineated the responsibilities each institution had to its students. Given the uncertain role of Radcliffe as a college rather than as a research and support institution, such a renegotiation is long overdue, and recent articles in The Boston Globe and The Crimson indicate that the process might finally--if secretly--be underway. But Lewis was right to point out that it is not worth going through what would be a painful process in order to effect a minor change which does not make men's and women's diplomas equal. The respect which many of the failed bill's supporters have for Radcliffe is admirable and is something we should all share. Radcliffe as a historical entity has done so very, very much for women on this campus and continues to do so. But the fact remains that Radcliffe is no longer an educational institution in the way that it once was. It is the home of uniquely valuable resources for both women and men--from the Schlesinger library to the Lyman Common Room--but it is not a college.

Harvard College is the place where both men and women receive the education which the diploma represents: the education in the liberal arts and sciences, the education in our concentrations, electives, maybe even our Cores. As students we receive "education" in a larger sense from all parts of our Harvard life, from our extracurriculars, from our friends, and for some of us, from our association with Radcliffe. But the diploma should represent an achievement that is shared across the board by men and women alike: the completion of our four years in the classroom and laboratory.

The diploma debate has been raging quietly for the last few months, and most of us are sick of it. It seems like an awful lot of energy to waste over a piece of paper. But for some reason, the debate has captured our interest enough that we talk about it over dinner with blockmates and on the way to class with friends and even write about it in the newspaper. While our diploma is symbolically significant to all of us, I can't help thinking that our interest goes deeper than that. Just as the revision of the diploma would require a renegotiation of the Radcliffe agreement, our interest in the debate might be less about the diploma itself and more about redefining (or even just understanding) the role of Radcliffe at Harvard. I'm not sure any of us knows what that is anymore, and it's too important an issue to let slide. The diplomas should be equal for men and women (i.e., they should be Harvard only), but it's also necessary to start talking about Radcliffe and redefining our terms. Radcliffe does and should mean a great deal to us, but it's time to realize that its meaning has changed.

Susannah B. Tobin '00 is a classics concentrator in Lowell House. Her column appears on alternate Thursdays.