Bleeding Out the Bitterness

The hurdle the Undergraduate Council faced early this year--after a bitter battle over the conduct of its vice president-elect--was one of credibility and redemption. Sadly, it seems, internal dissension and political squabbling on both sides have prevented the organization from meeting these challenges. Poor attendance and failed projects have led many students to view their "student government" with scorn and disdain. In short, the current state of the council is troubling.

Last February, a majority of the council voted to expel Vice President John A. Burton '01 for unethical campaign practices. Although the vote was short of the necessary two-thirds required to remove an elected council officer, it signified a vote of no confidence in Burton. The appropriate response by Burton would have been resignation. Instead, the distrust between council members who voted for "impeachment" and the administration of Fentrice D. Driskell '01 only deepened.

The most recent victim of internal division has been the council's "Harvard Census 2000." The mainstay of Driskell's platform, the census would have been a way for the council both to gather student input and to convey legitimately that input to administrators. But this admirable project, which would have done much to restore much of the council's credibility, was met with stubborn resistance by council conservatives. Although the project withstood a funding challenge, these council members--led by those who voted earlier to remove Burton--managed to seriously curtail the project's visibility. Now, the council expected to collect less than half of the original 500 surveys--a sample size that may not have much statistical significance. This is not to say the census project was not marred by other logistical errors. Nevertheless, it is clear that political quarrels greatly hampered this endeavor.

Such quarrels can be extremely petty, as exemplified by the conduct of one council member who managed to destroy a discussion on council bylaws by stubbornly sticking to a "point of personal privilege" as members filed out of the room. Or it can ruin an already ill-fated project, like the council's "Spirit Week," designed to increase Harvard pride among the student body. Although it is hard to imagine any way the event could have been successful--it's hard to see what "Pajama Day" has to do with anything--the grumbling and complaining by council members left a bad taste in everybody's mouth.

But the council is capable of performing a valuable service for students on campus. In addition to its usual services, such as the buses to Logan airport and the Harvard-Yale game, the group has helped to secure universal keycard access and developed a useful book-selling website. It managed to throw together a successful Springfest, despite last-minute problems with the amusement company. These accomplishments are largely the result of a few dedicated individuals. The product of a genuine council-wide effort might be even more impressive.

First and foremost, council members on all sides need to adopt a greater willingness to compromise in embracing a shared goal. It is reasonable to expect that some council members will disagree with projects like the "Harvard Census 2000." But it is also reasonable to expect that these same members will temper their opposition in deference to student body support of a popularly elected officer's platform. It is a subtle, but important, difference. In the case of the census project, opponents would have done better to attempt to change the direction of the project--for example, by proposing changes to the census questions--instead of attempting to quash funding for the project entirely.

Next fall, when the council reconvenes, it is incumbent on council members to abandon personal grudges and cleanse themselves of residual bitterness over last February's impeachment debacle. Only then can the organization begin what will surely be a long and arduous rebuilding process.