Think Twice Before Giving

Last week, opening their mail boxes to find an ominous beige envelope from University Hall, several hundred seniors no doubt thought they had been Ad Boarded. Panic-stricken, they wondered, was it that fake e-mail I sent to my friend? The loaf of bread I took from the dining hall? Or--gasp!--have they found out about that paragraph on the next-to-last page of my second expos paper my first year?

Alas, the envelope contained nothing more than a letter from Dean of the Faculty Jeremy R. Knowles kindly beseeching members of the Class of '99 to give to the Senior Gift. Referring to himself eruditely as a "mendicant" (reminding us, perhaps, of our imminent admission to the company of learned and privileged Harvard-educated men and women), Knowles asked seniors to listen intently when cornered this week by classmates looking to get into our wallets.

But before you give in to the peer and institutional pressure, at least think it through.

Obviously Knowles and company aren't actually after your dollars. A donation of $10 or $20 doesn't do more than light a classroom in the Science Center for half an hour. Rather, Harvard wants us to give to the Senior Gift for symbolic reasons. First, the Development Office hopes seniors will give now and so begin a "pattern of giving" that will continue throughout our (presumably long and prosperous) lifetimes. The idea is that donating to Harvard now gets you into the habit, and before you know it, you're writing a check every year.

This makes sense from the perspective of the Development Office, which wants nothing more than money. But chances are our interests as students and as prospective donors don't coincide with theirs. While it's nice for Harvard if we get into the blind habit of writing the institution a check every year, why would you want to essentially sign away a piece of your rational decision-making capacity to the force of habit?

The second symbolic reason for giving is more appealing. Although our gifts may be small, together they help the institution improve its reputation and raise more dollars. If more of us give, the College looks better in the eyes of prospective students, U.S. News and World Report and, most importantly other big donors. On its face, this is a good deal. You give just a little money, and it does all sorts of wonderful things: It makes you feel generous; it makes Harvard smile upon you; it gets your soliciting roommate off your back; and it convinces old, rich people to give lots of their money to Harvard. And the most convincing argument is the subversive one--giving makes Harvard more receptive to your complaints and suggestions. After all, who in University Hall is going to listen to a non-donor? University officials and politicians have that in common.

But as much as $10 is like a snowflake falling on Antarctica after the way my family's reserves have been depleted these last four years, there is something noxious about the idea of making yet another check out to Harvard University.

Seniors lobbying on behalf of the Development Office proudly trumpet the fact that our gifts, matched by other donors from earlier classes, will go to financial aid in the form of a "Class of '99 Scholarship." But unless the College is about to abandon need-blind admissions, it seems likely that an additional scholarship might only free up dollars for other projects. Moreover, the fact that so many of us are so disinclined to give unrestricted gifts--"Well, if I give, it will be to financial aid," is commonly heard among seniors these days--indicates the general and rightful displeasure on campus with the way Harvard spends its fortune. For the Senior Gift is, in the end, all about the money: how much Harvard has (plenty) and how it spends it (poorly). On the day seniors got our first mailings about the Senior Gift, The Crimson announced the University's plan to spend $4 million on a completely useless decorative tower. Could the timing have been more perfect?

What is particularly grating is the Senior Gift program itself. First there are the fancy brochures and letters on Senior Gift stationery we all received--way to be frugal. And what about the banquet the Development Office threw at the Charles Hotel for the 200-plus student volunteer solicitors, complete with open bar? Sounds like an organization in dire need of cash to me!

In Women's Studies 132, "Shop 'Til You Drop," Professor Juliet Schor mentioned a few weeks back how Americans today say they cannot meet their "needs," even on healthy middle-class salaries. Over the last few decades, wants have become needs with great rapidity. Harvard, it seems, is experiencing the same phenomenon. Dean Knowles includes improving "athletics" and "the Houses" among the many "needs" Harvard has. As much as we may complain about the Malkin Athletic Center and the crummy Leverett lighting, we don't need to improve them.

Some seniors, lamenting the fact that none of us organized an Alternative Senior Gift Fund this year, will either not give at all or will cave and write their $10 checks to Harvard. But there is an alternative senior gift fund--several thousand of them. They are the charities in Cambridge, Boston and farther afield that can really use your $10 or more--that really do have needs. Ironically, Massachusetts--home to the University with the largest endowment in the world and the seventh richest non-profit in the U.S. as of 1996--ranked last among the 50 states last year in the "Generosity Index," a figure computed by the Boston-based Catalogue for Philanthropy. The index score reflects the fact that in 1996, Massachusetts residents ranked third in income earned and 43rd in charitable deductions.

Call (800) 298-7141 to get a copy of the Catalogue for Philanthropy, which lists 100 of the best smaller charities in Massachusetts, or visit their Web site at www.catphilanthropy.org--and consider giving. You shouldn't have to put your checkbook away just because you find the Senior Gift objectionable. Geoffrey C. Upton '99 is a social studies concentrator in Leverett House. His column appears on alternate Wednesdays.