At the start of the fall semester, President Alan M. Garber exited Massachusetts Hall for a traditional stroll around the Yard. Decked in a red Harvard sweatshirt, he chatted genially with first-year students moving into their dorms, his sanguine demeanor masking a summer that couldn’t have been easy.
With settlement talks with the federal government reportedly stalled—and some loud voices in the Harvard community urging against a deal— the University continued its rollercoaster ride into September. There were federal court victories, further financial attacks, rumors, and recriminations (see page 17). At the end of the month, U.S. President Donald Trump, speaking off the cuff at an unrelated White House event, suggested that a deal was all but inked, involving a $500 million dollar payout and a commitment to building trade schools. Secretary of Education Linda McMahon seemed to agree.
University officials were notably silent. Days went by with no news, in the midst of a federal shutdown.
But even if an agreement comes soon—allowing research funding to flow, ensuring that international students will get their visas, easing the white-hot pressure—Harvard will emerge from the drama significantly changed.
For one, the financial pressures aren’t likely to disappear. Even with past grants restored, researchers are facing down the likelihood that future opportunities will shrink, under an administration that is hostile to higher education and has taken steps to cut funding overall for science and medical research. In July, Congress passed a tax hike on university endowment income that could, according to economists, bump the tax on Harvard’s income from 1.5 to 8 percent in January, costing a reported $200 million per year. Trump’s executive proclamation in September, placing a $100,000 fee on every H-1B visa, puts a hefty surcharge on a major mechanism Harvard uses to hire international scholars and researchers.
Driven partly by changes in the law, partly by self-reflection, and partly by the Trump administration’s antipathy toward identity politics, students returned this year to find new structures, rules, and guidelines.
So austerity continues: a hiring freeze, rumors of further layoffs, a smaller pool of graduate students, a pause on the planned renovations to Widener, Houghton, Lamont, and Pusey libraries. (Other construction projects continue: the renovation of Eliot House; the continued work, in Allston, on the Enterprise Research Campus and the new home of the American Repertory Theater. And Adams House reopened this fall after a six-year, three-stage renovation.)
In addition to the money, there’s the mood. Driven partly by changes in the law, partly by self-reflection after the past two years of turmoil, and partly by the Trump administration’s antipathy toward identity politics, Harvard students returned to campus this year to find new structures, rules, and guidelines.
A new initiative to promote religious literacy and dialogue was announced over the summer, complete with a new position: director of interfaith engagement. University-wide harassment training modules added detailed language about antisemitism and anti-Muslim bias, including long lists of terms that could be considered discriminatory.
“We are no longer, as a matter of policy, funneling students to offices based on their identity group.”
—David Deming, dean of Harvard College
Over the summer, the College reshuffled its federal compliance offices related to gender equity and nondiscrimination, folding separate offices for women, minority students, and LGBTQ students into a “Harvard Foundation,” housed within the Office of Culture and Community.
The bureaucratic shifts mirror what many colleges are doing, in the current political climate, to eliminate traces of what were once robust diversity, equity, and inclusion infrastructures. At Harvard, they reflect a new approach toward identity, Danoff dean of Harvard College David Deming said in an interview. “We are no longer, as a matter of policy, funneling students to offices based on their identity group,” he said. “Rather, we have an office that welcomes all students, supports all students, and acknowledges their intersectional identities—and provides programming for them that makes them feel like they are part of a larger community.”
IF MANY OF THESE changes reflect political realities outside Harvard’s gates, others stem from introspection. Last winter, the Faculty of Arts and Sciences (FAS) released a report from its classroom social compact committee, which found that students were de-emphasizing classwork in favor of extracurriculars and other pursuits. The report also acknowledged widespread grade inflation and the pressures on faculty that lead to the practice, and found that students and instructors often feel uncomfortable expressing their views during class discussions.
A concerted effort has followed to “re-center” academics. Over the summer, incoming first-year students participated in a 90-minute online orientation program about Harvard’s academic offerings, developed by dean of undergraduate education Amanda Claybaugh. A segment on “how college is different from high school” told students they should expect to spend many hours on their classwork; a module on “challenging conversations” stressed the importance of diverse viewpoints in the classroom.
Instructors were given explicit guidance about how to treat students whose political views differ from their own. And, following a vote by the FAS last spring, classes now use the Chatham House Rule: participants may share the contents of a classroom discussion outside of class, but not the identity of the speakers.
Much of the work falls under the umbrella of “productive disagreement,” a watchword across campus since the national scrutiny began. At Convocation exercises, Garber laid out expectations clearly: “We trust that you—of many points of origin and many more types of backgrounds—will greet differences with genuine curiosity and sincere interest. This, of course, does not mean that you will agree with everyone.”
That disagreement will surely spill out in public, though compared to recent years, the fall on campus has been strikingly quiet so far. At Convocation, the only hint of past unrest was a handful of protestors off to one side, silently holding up a pro-Palestinian sign. Deming, who began his role this summer after years as faculty dean of Kirkland House, said he trusts that students will navigate the line between heightened scrutiny on conduct and the urge for self-expression.
“We want to have a culture on campus that recognizes freedom and engages seriously with different perspectives,” he said. “And we want all of our students to feel like they can speak their mind. And if they don’t feel that way, I’d like to know.”
