Necessary Liquid Courage

The concern is noted and appreciated. It's wonderful the Harvard administration remembered that there are underage students at the University, especially since the University generally acts like a neglectful parent toward its undergraduates. However, a recyclable notice advising students not to imbibe is not a laudable way for the administration to suddenly recall its "parenting" responsibilities.

Harvard administrators are kidding themselves if they believe that they can stamp out underage drinking. We have remarkably little boozing when compared to other campuses, particularly because students spend weeknights studying rather than partying. But when we do drink, it's not difficult to understand why.

Harvard is a gargantuan university with little time to dote on any single student. Every student is unique, extraordinary, and set to begin a thrilling and successful career. After college, students may have a chance to enjoy their proverbial 15 minutes of fame, but during their undergraduate years, students are lucky to have 15 seconds.

Upon arrival, students--who may or may not have anticipated the reality--are forced to cope on their own with the effects of Valedictorian Syndrome, the sense each Harvard student has by the end of high school that he or she has mastered some subject area or skill. Problems arise when these talented individuals convene and butt heads without the proper head gear in contests of one-upmanship. It's dirty subtle fighting, and the administration permits this same scenario to play itself out each fall. That's where first-year drinking comes in.

Nature abounds in the battle for recognition, but nurture is lacking. Not only do first-years lack their traditional support networks of parents and old friends, but there is only the shadow of an advising structure. For some freshmen there is no one with whom to share the intense pain and loneliness of that first miserable year other than Johnny Walker or Cider Jack, two patient listeners.

At a school like ours, a need to escape becomes increasingly intense. The institution as a whole seems more concerned with its library books than with undergraduate advising, or any other specifically undergraduate benefit for that matter. So while life may become more pleasant over the eight semesters, it is never easy.

Harvard tends to be a school of fiercely independent individuals. Admitting weakness is tantamount to admitting defeat. The result is a need for solitary solutions for coping with the environment and imposed ignorance of the cold system. Students struggle with personal crises brought on by the Harvard system throughout their stays on campus. The crisis could be rejection by a particular club after many months of comping, or it might be a sense of loneliness because the individual student lacks a desperately desired confidant or significant other.

Unhappiness seems to bind many of us too often. It's remarkable how many of our conversations here are what Georgetown socio-linguist Deborah Tannen would call "troubles talk," and what most of us fondly refer to as "venting." Even while attending the world's greatest university and being offered so many options and opportunities in every direction, many of us remain dissatisfied. Most Americans would give their right arms to enter this bastion of our misery.

Drinking ameliorates the unpleasantness, at least momentarily, by mushing our minds and allowing us to forget about all of our schoolwork and responsibilities and at least take a stab at enjoying the prime years of our life. For many people, remaining happy in such a cold and dark climate is a challenge. There is a reason the Russians are famous for drinking so much vodka. Drinking warms a body and helps a mind forget the cruelties of nature.

This is not to say that having fun while sober is impossible. It is just a greater challenge to do so on this campus than elsewhere. We can't advocate a movement toward a campus of lushes, but we can admit that drinking can be pleasurable and that many students are much more fun to be with when within the range of tipsy to a bit intoxicated.

What is disturbing is many students' inability to let down their guard and relax while sober. Dancing is scarce at many campus parties, and the little that takes place is terribly inhibited. Most students, especially men, refuse to dance before downing a beer. After that beer, one might hope for good company. But inevitably, someone broaches the topic of schoolwork, likely to complain about how many pages there are to write the next morning for one class or another. Papers as cocktail talk? Professors would be pleased, but there are no TFs around to award brownie points. The whole thing makes for lousy parties.

There is no peer pressure forcing students to drink on campus, which is truly wonderful. However, most of us are intense students striving for perfection, an impossible goal. The crack in the image must appear somewhere, and since smoking is now so passe, drinking is the last available route that isn't entirely illegal, unlike narcotics, which are circumscribed for citizens of all ages.

The administration has been scratching its head wondering how to decrease drinking on campus, but there really isn't so much drinking to wipe out. Considering the incredible level of stress and widespread dissatisfaction with campus life, there is remarkably little imbibing. The real question to consider might be why there isn't more drinking on campus. Alcohol seems to do the student body good.

Melissa Rose Langsam '00 is a Crimson editor and a Near Eastern languages and civilizations concentrator. She lives in Kirkland House.