Amid comfy floor pillows and freshly baked cookies, students gathered at the Women’s Center last week to discuss “Masculinity at Harvard.” But, even after an hour of debate, the participants couldn’t fill in the blank: “What is a Harvard man?” Is he a nerd, a cheat, a cad? The confusion is understandable: Afraid of appearing patriarchal, the College promotes an ideal for female students—the career-oriented woman—but not for male students. Though this attention to women is long overdue, University Hall should also define what it means to be a Harvard man.

The College neglects men’s moral education because it thinks that only women need such support. For years, women lacked the full benefits of a Harvard education. They couldn’t attend classes with Harvard students until 1943. They couldn’t study regularly in Lamont until 1967. Add to this history the claims of feminists like Carol Gilligan, Harvard’s first gender studies professor to receive an endowed chair, that women are “silenced” in the “patriarchal structure” of our schools, and you have the College’s attitude: Boys got a head start; girls need to catch up.

It’s a race to the finish. On top of the Women and Gender Studies committee, the Radcliffe Institute “sustains a continuing commitment to the study of women, gender, and society.” The Institute of Politics hosts the Women’s Initiative in Leadership to address the “importance of female students at Harvard in developing leadership skills.” Finally, the Women’s Center—which acknowledges that over half of the student body is now female—seeks to fill the gap of women “in political leadership, tenured faculty positions, and high-powered careers.” So, the College wants its women to be professors, politicians, and businesswomen.

But what about its men? Unfortunately, University Hall emphasizes to women what they should be and to men what they shouldn’t be. Men shouldn’t be exclusive, so the College no longer recognizes final clubs. Men shouldn’t be abusive, so the College requires freshmen to attend Sex Signals. Both are good lessons, but University Hall could do more. It could continue its tradition of teaching men to be gentlemen, rather than wishing they cause as little trouble as possible. Some men may not need reassurance, but all men need guidance—guidance on how to channel their energy positively.

Harvard used to provide that. During the 18th century, sophomores instructed freshmen on the proper social conduct. “No fresman [sic] shall talk saucily to his senior or speak to him with his hat on” was a frequent admonition. One of the French instructors, Peter Curtis, offered undergraduates dancing lessons—because every Harvard man had to know the minuet. Most of these ideas are quaint, but they speak to a sense of respect that is lacking on today’s campus. Nowadays, the College sets few standards for its men—just enough to hope they don’t get arrested.

Besides curbing bad behavior, Harvard fostered good morals in its men by encouraging productive activities. After the Civil War, tutors noticed that students were catcalling women in the streets or starting fires in the Yard. Such rowdiness led the Boston Post to gibe, “When a man wishes to pass for a graduate of Harvard, he has his room decorated with photographs of all the leading burlesque actresses.”

To keep men in line and in shape, the College developed an athletics program. Teddy Roosevelt, Class of 1880, in particular, campaigned for the creation of a football team to combat the “overcivilization” of students. Today, Harvard boasts an impressive athletics department, but it offers no regimen to show men how they are supposed to act in the 21st century.

One student at the discussion last week noted the lack of decency in Harvard men today, concluding, “Being a good man is not a high priority.” Indeed, that’s because moral education is not a priority for the College. The old Harvard had its prejudices against women and minorities, but it tried to teach its graduates as best it knew how. Now, University Hall seems determined to train the next generation of professional women, yet it seems to have forgotten its men, explaining to them the boundaries but never the game plan.

And so the discussants searched in vain for the Harvard man. Among their peers, they found “losers”—the “brilliant but socially awkward.” They found “bros”—rugby players who wear polo shirts with the collar turned up. But they never found that ideal Harvard man for which to strive.



Brian J. Bolduc ’10, a Crimson editorial writer, is an economics concentrator in Winthrop House. His column appears on alternate Tuesdays.