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Something is seriously wrong with this school, and it has nothing to do with intellectual vitality.

As the Harvard-Yale game approaches, the College is once again repeating history by trying to administrate its way out of a subpar social scene.

Harvard’s bureaucratic disconnect from actual student social life was on full display in recent comments from Associate Dean for Student Engagement Jason R. Meier, who focused more on scrutinizing the Editorial Board’s calls for a hands-off student tailgate than outlining his plan for The Game itself.

It’s wonderful to see Harvard administrators reading our editorials so closely, and I am grateful for the University’s commendable steadfastness to the rule of law, but — with less than a month until The Game — they seem to have no idea what they’re doing.

To date, aside from its barebones guidelines for general admission parking lot tailgating on regular game days (which is clearly not intended for undergraduate students), the College has provided no official details about this year’s undergraduate or alumni tailgate plans. No updated maps, schedules, tent policies, or anything else that students, alumni, and fans alike would turn toward to prepare for the biggest game of the year.

And they wonder why our stands are empty?

It’s a sad truth that Harvard’s school-sanctioned “parties” — like the embarrassing tailgate debacle of 2022 — are often poorly attended and ridiculed by many in the student body, while opportunities for student-led endeavors are constantly blocked by bureaucratic red tape.

These failings, compounded by the loss of institutional memory in House culture and student organizations, are sending Harvard down a painful path toward party culture purgatory.

It’s no secret, either. Last week, when discussing attempts to bolster our dastardly low attendance in the football stands, Senior Associate Director of Athletics Nicholas Majocha noted that “no one’s going to come” to tailgates hosted by the administration and successful tailgates must be “promoted and organized by students.”

The reality is, paid Harvard employees are subpar social chairs, and students want to have fun without administrators breathing down their necks at events that feel like they were pre-sanitized by a public relations firm.

Instead of engaging with this reality, Meier mocks his critics as merely underage students seeking exclusivity and free alcohol. As if we think that’s the only thing that makes a good party, and as if Harvard undergraduates are paragons of impropriety that can’t be trusted under any circumstances.

Let me promise that the Crimson Editorial Board — or anyone else for that matter — is not asking for Dean Dunne to pour shots for teenagers while Dean Khurana snaps Instagram selfies. But it’s not ludicrous to acknowledge that every beer taken from a 19-year-old’s hands in the good name of the law can easily be replaced with a bottle of lukewarm vodka hastily chugged in a Grays Hall common room — an exponentially more dangerous undertaking.

So where do we go from here?

Housing Day, perhaps the best “community party” experience at Harvard, offers some guidance. With minimal policing and an administrative willingness to look past a few bent rules, thousands of (dare I say) intoxicated students gather en masse in Harvard Yard, safely embodying the raw school pride and admirable unruliness we would hope to see at a tailgate and in the stands at The Game.

The first step in correcting the course is recognizing that these critiques aren’t born of a desire for exclusivity but rather a hunger for freedom and authenticity, which Harvard’s programming consistently eludes.

The next step is gathering student leaders from both official and unofficial campus organizations — affinity groups, final clubs, large student organizations, House Committees, etc. — and asking them to join the tailgate as planners and participants.

The fields at the athletic complex are vast. Mapped out ahead of time, allow student organizations to set up tents around the tailgate where they can provide a broad range of activities that appeal to the student body.

Create multiple areas with independent speaker systems for dancing in crowds, replete with elevated surfaces and vibes curated by our best student DJs.

Stock the tailgate with ample food and drink stations, plenty of bathrooms, thousands of bottles of water, and go-to gimmicks like bouncy houses, snow-cones, and carnival games.

Then handle the liquid issue. Ahead of the event, provide wristbands to students who are over 21 to easily identify who can receive alcoholic drinks. During the planning process, clearly and coherently outline rules on the provision of alcohol to student-group leaders. Provide information about medical support and emergency contacts. This shouldn’t be hard — it’s essentially the same process used for events that provide alcohol in house spaces. Be willing to hear student ideas and negotiate (within the law, of course).

Finally, on the day of The Game, take a step back and focus on general safety and containment, not heavy-handed policing. It is not a federal crime to trust students to take the lead on a campus full of student leaders. If you need assurance that Harvard won’t burn down, just look at the images of the MAC lawn in 2022: Tame is an understatement.

In what could be an inflection point for our campus morale and social culture, it’s up to administrators to shift their tone and approach, lest Harvard claim the crown title of “Where Fun Goes to Die.”

Matthew E. Nekritz ’25, an Associate Editorial editor, is a Social Studies concentrator in Cabot House and can legally drink in the United States.