On a chilly December day three years ago, 750 students assembled in front of University Hall for a rally. Speaking from a platform erected in front of the John Harvard statue, professors, community leaders and student leaders addressed an excited crowd, which waved signs like "Harvard: Hands Off PBH!" and "Student Need, Not Harvard Greed." Students filled most of the Old Yard, and there was a strong sense of presence and solidarity. Moreover, there was a clear purpose: to retain student control of public service programs and Phillips Brooks House Association (PBHA) in particular.

Yesterday afternoon's nebulous "Rally for Justice" lacked that sense of purpose. The rally brought together under the umbrella of "justice" three legitimate but unrelated issues--a living wage for Harvard employees, fair labor practices in manufacturing Harvard clothing and more awareness of sexual assault on campus. By linking the issues, organizers had hoped to show solidarity against the Harvard administration and generate student interest that would spill over into all three issues. Instead, each individual message was diluted under the vague rallying cry of "Justice," and a true sense of purpose was never apparent.

The most important of the demands were those of the Coalition against Sexual Violence, which were at times buried under the more vocal labor causes. Indeed, the consideration of the dismissal of D. Drew Douglas, Class of 2000, was the only item on the agenda of yesterday's Faculty meeting that even related to the protests. The Students Against Sweatshops and the Living Wage Campaign seemed like opportunists, jumping on the wave of rage against Harvard's seeming indifference to campus sexual assault to gain support for their causes. There have been a number of small sweatshop rallies in the past year; only by banding with more pressing causes could the sweatshop activists have dreamed to draw such numbers to their cause.

Moreover, the vague speeches, the trite chants of "no justice, no peace" and banging of tom-toms and tambourines created a circus-like atmosphere that made you wonder whether the Faculty or administrators would take the students' demands seriously at all. Flyers promoting the event promised "great music, entertaining speakers, delicious refreshments, and invigorating chants. It's a terrific opportunity to show your support for justice at Harvard." Was it a party or a protest? Even after stopping to listen to part of the rally, one thirty something woman turned to me and asked, "What is this about?" I half expected someone to step up to the mike and cry, "Free Mumia!"

With a rally backed by so much hype, activists also run the danger of overplaying their hand. The real cost of yesterday's events is that the Faculty and administrators, having made a token concession on one issue (full disclosure of merchandise factory locations) will be quick to pass over still-pressing issues like a stronger rape policy, fair disciplinary proceedings, Faculty diversity and better advising. There can only be so many rallies on this busy campus before student interest wanes and Harvard ceases to listen.

In December 1995, there was a real sense that students had been screwed. Dean of Students Archie C. Epps III had threatened to evict student groups from PBH and to cut off $750,000 in funding because PBHA had made plans to include non-student community leaders on its new governing board. The College moved to replace the well-liked executive director of PBHA with an assistant dean for public service. Student input in selecting the new dean was blatantly ignored as Dean of the College Harry R. Lewis '68 chose Judith H. Kidd, a candidate ranked last by the students on the search committee.

And the speeches at the rally reflected that frustration and a real sense of injustice. "A moon is when someone drops their pants and turns and looks at you," Kenneth E. Reeves '72, then-mayor of Cambridge, boomed to the cheering crowd. "So I am here because I feel that you have been mooned and we have been mooned." Agee Professor of Social Ethics Robert Coles '50 directly challenged administrators and in particular Lewis, who angered many by not attending the rally. "There was a moment in the Bible when it was said that the last shall be first and the first shall be last," Coles said. "And let us remember that--those of you who are big shots, let us remember."

The one chant that protesters repeatedly returned to yesterday, and perhaps the real message of the day, was "Hey Harvard, hear the word: student voices must be heard!" If anything, the rally seemed to show not so much passion for the three issues spotlighted, but the surfacing of general rumblings from a discontented student body which feels, more than its counterparts at other schools, that its views have been consistently and repeatedly ignored.

Yesterday's rally might have been more effective if it had focused on one issue with a united voice, instead of a cacophony of calls for "justice at Harvard." If the protesters truly care about the issues they voiced at the rally, yesterday's shouting must be followed up with continued lobbying in order to effect substantive changes in Harvard policy. Andrew S. Chang '99 is a neurobiology concentrator in Kirkland House. His column appears on alternate Wednesdays.