One might question initially whether a college in which religion has been relegated strictly to the individual can turn around and claim for itself the field of moral philosophy--or whether it should content itself with the area of intellectual inquiry. This objection cannot be answered absolutely, unless a college education be defined broadly enough to include things other than merely academic matters. As Raphael Demos, Alford Professor of Natural Religion, Moral Philosophy, and Civil Polity has observed, "The distinction between right and wrong is surely no less important than that between true and false." Professor Demos also points out that, far from being contradictory, the two fields complement one another: "Intellectual achievement is normally not possible without moral character."

Too often, these two categories--intellectual achievement and moral character--are divided from one another as if they were not only separate but also mutually exclusive. As students, we are taught to rid ourselves of biases in studying history, and to consider art as above and removed from morality. What is not so often stressed is the necessity, and desirability, of moral judgements in history, or the fact that criticism of a work of art is itself a moral action. The whole academic world is involved with morality, but the distinction between "objective" investigation and "subjective" judgment can at times serve as a pretext to ignore this involvement. If moral philosophy cannot be taught, it can at least be discussed as if it were an important topic in itself, rather than an impurity in the academic microscope to be discounted if it cannot be gotten rid of.

Indoctrination in the Classroom

It is also a mistake to pretend that students are left entirely free from proselytizing and indoctrination in the classroom, but are only presented the issues and allowed to decide for themselves. We are persuaded in many areas: the scientific method is urged upon us, as is logic and rationality; democracy is often preached, and totalitarianism almost universally inveighed against; and in the humanities, standards of taste are handed down in a fashion that sometimes approaches coercion. Outside the classroom, some teachers feel even freer in pontificating on these and related questions, but there is almost no moral guidance or consideration of conduct, character, and duty.

The entire concept of guidance is sure to grate on any Harvard student, who traditionally prizes his independence, and who scoffs at other Ivy Leaguers and more distant colleagues who are still spoon-fed by a bevy of counselors, advisors, and deans. At Harvard, freedom is an almost sacred word, with individualism only slightly less exalted. But freedom implies responsibility, which is not so often thought of. During the college years, new freedoms appear at a bewildering rate, and inevitably some cannot be immediately coped with. There is freedom of time and of action in great quantities. The student usually makes his final post-adolescent break with parental authority and many of the values of home and childhood, including often religious beliefs.

Breakdown of Values

Before the vacuum which remains can be filled with an organized ethical system, there intervenes a period in which conduct of any sort passes unchecked and uncensured. To add to this, the student is encouraged to question critically all of his ideas and assumptions, initially an extremely destructive process. He sees himself as not yet fully adult, and hence not responsible for his actions in any sense that could be termed permanent, much less eternal.

In this situation there is surely an educational problem, and Harvard's "sink-or-swim" answer may or may not be the best solution. But, without curtailing or inhibiting their freedom, students could be made much more aware of their responsibilities, both personal and social. As it is, Harvard students cannot be talked to, nor can they really be trusted. Fines, punishments, and policing are routine, and there is conspicuously no honor system of any kind at a College which has and does place so much emphasis on being a gentleman.

Although the University is often referred to as a community of scholars, the force of the word community goes largely unnoticed. There is little sense of community outside the intellectual sphere at Harvard, even in the matter of generosity toward one's fellow students.

The idea of community service receives little mention: for most people Phillips Brooks House remains an activity to be squeezed in if there is time left over, and motives often involve personal interests, such as pre-medical work, rather than altruism. Outdated and offensive. the attitude of noblesse oblige is no longer tenable, but at the same time no other incentive has replaced the feeling of obligation which this for merly produced. The four years at college can easily become an artificial vacation from responsibility toward others as well as toward oneself.

Rationale of Duty

Discussion of careers among undergraduates is surprisingly limited, and decisions concerning them are in many cases not reached even by the end of senior year. With fellowships relatively easy to come by, and graduate school always available as a last resort, the decision can be postponed until "something comes up," and no decision at all is required. Vocational guidance counselors are clearly not the answer, but a liberal arts college should counterbalance its aims in general education by stimulating its students to reflect upon "their duty, and the reasons for it."

In considering a career, "duty" and "service" are suspect terms, usually quickly discarded. And yet, how often do security, prestige, or income affect our decisions? Many times our youthful ideas and ambitions fail to materialize because they involve risks, or appear socially dubious, or, time and again, not lucrative enough.

Although the desire for success and prestige is by no means peculiar to the College, it does receive an intellectual respectability here from the aristocratic ideal which pervades Harvard thinking. More perhaps than any other college, Harvard is convinced of its superiority, not only academically--which may have some demonstrable basis--but in a sort of intangible mystique which can be felt by any Freshman during his first week here. This attitude has both its good and bad sides. At its best, it produces a drive for, and appreciation of, excellence; it maintains high standards and good taste. At its worst, however, it gives rise to cavalier disdain and snobbery, to what has been termed "upper-directed" behavior, to pride, and to false pride. Humility remains a rare quality at Harvard.

Concern for Prestige