I should have known better. But back in May of 2004 I threw caution to the wind and voted in favor of increasing the Student Activities Fee from $35 to $75. Like an excited schoolgirl, I giggled at the prospect of rocking out to the hottest new boy-band in Lavietes Pavilion or embracing my gangsta side with Snoop Dogg on a hot and sweaty spring evening in the MAC quad.

There seemed no way for the fresh-faced Undergraduate Council (UC) representatives hawking this new utopian vision to fall short. They convinced me with their slogan to “Believe in a Better Harvard.” Just give us a little more money, they said, and we’ll make your wildest dreams come true!

But this vision has proven elusive. Like a freshman during her first weekend out in college, I find myself constantly text-ing my girlfriends to ask: “where’s the party?” but nothing ever seems to materialize. I certainly didn’t find much of a party at Springfest last year where the much-vaunted “Afterparty” attracted far fewer than 200 students and cost about $16,000—nearly $100 per rain- and mud-soaked attendee. Nor was Havana on the Harbor much fun; $2,500 was spent on 40 students—many of whom later wanted their money back. The Snoop Dogg fiasco wasted more than $7,000 and the poorly-attended Jim Breuer show blew through about twice that. Then, of course, there’s Wyclef Jean, who didn’t play to the tune of about $30,000.

The purpose of this column, however, is not to simply list these wasteful expenditures as so many have done before. Hallow calls for greater accountability and student input after each screw-up have done nothing, save encourage the Council to futilely try to redeem itself only to fail once again. It’s time to face the music: the UC is utterly incapable of organizing successful campus-wide social events, and it has an insatiable appetite for repeating (and expanding upon) its own mistakes. We must stop this ravenous beast while we still have the chance. We must cut off its life blood. We must reduce its budget.

Now I am not suggesting that everyone immediately opt-out of the termbill fee and completely cripple the Council’s ability to function. (A little bird told me, however, that one can still opt-out and immediately have one’s termbill credited for $75 at https://sfsportal.harvard.edu/portal/ugcfwaiver even though the website says the cutoff for doing so was November 1.)

Such a move would force massive cuts from grants to student groups that make up nearly three-quarters ($276,000) of the UC’s $406,000 budget this year and could put a damper on the popular party grants that have been one the Council’s great recent innovations. But beyond these two functions and a small sum to facilitate the UC’s administrative costs, students see very little return for their termbill investment. Do we really need campus-wide parties that no one attends?

I suggest that students place an immediate cease-and-desist order on such activities and cut the UC budget by approximately 25 percent. If the Council were truly repentant for its sins, it would offer students the chance to vote on such a scaling back of its responsibilities and reducing its expenses. But since this is unlikely to happen, I recommend a partial opt-out procedure where students can hold the UC accountable and improve their social lives as well.

The scheme is simple. Students who currently pay the Student Activities Fee divide up into groups of four, and select one group member to opt-out of the termbill payment. This member then agrees to take the other three out for drinks, dinner, dancing, a play, or some other activity that costs about $18.75 per person to total $56.25, or three quarters of the activities fee. Thus the 25 percent of the UC budget that is currently dead weight is converted to social capital that may not unite the whole campus, but will actually improve our social lives. Furthermore, students could expand the scheme to any multiple of four. Some might even consider hosting massive “opt-out” parties where almost $20 spent per attendee could produce a party of unprecedented quality for the College.

With regard to parties and nightlife, it’s amazing how students already do a lot with quite a little. One need only go out on a typical Friday or Saturday to see how many are willing to host and attend small and moderately-sized gatherings. The UC needs to empower students to do just that, rather than attempt to mold a social atmosphere that fits their liking, or conforms to that of other schools.

One of the main justifications for the termbill increase was that other educational institutions have higher student activity fees. But Harvard is decentralized in a unique way in that everyone is so busy doing something that no one has time to worry about anyone else’s activities, including the UC’s. We boast 41 intercollegiate athletic teams, whose membership comprises nearly one-quarter of the student body. Yet few attend football games. More student-run publications are produced here than in some Mountain Time Zone states. Yet, except for The Crimson, none are read.

The UC must realize that to most students, it not really a representative institution, but a club that, like the multitudes of others on campus, will primarily display its own preferences and interests. At its best, the Council can facilitate the grassroots level of student activities that makes up the heart of the College. At its worst, it will pronounce fixes to the social scene from some imaginary pedestal. And no one will pay any attention.

We can probably all agree that I should keep my boy-band parties confined to my common room anyway.



John W. Hastrup ’06 is a government concentrator in Dunster House. His column appears on alternate Tuesdays.