The Isis Crisis

An inescapable facet of Harvard undergraduate life is the oft-ridiculed, yet ever-alluring world of final clubs. Though no longer endorsed by the College, these select institutions still dominate, in the view of many, much of Harvard’s social life, and in doing so perpetuate artificial social distinctions and gender inequality.

Last week, it was discovered that the “punch book” of the Isis Club, a female final club, was accessible in the public domain, and, predictably, many curious Harvard students accessed this sensitive information. A punch book contains comments about every current “punch” (the students who wish to join the club) and, as one could imagine, the comments are rarely based on any sort of merit. The Isis’ book is rife with vapid and positive evaluations, as well as harsh critiques based on punches’ accessories, shrill vocal tones, social faux pas, and dating infidelities.

Those even tangentially aware of the punch process understand that by walking into a punch event students are subjecting themselves to withering social scrutiny. The arbitrary judgments are generally based on a two-minute introduction to a current member, who knows that he or she is in a position of power. Based on little more information than a name, House, and concentration—and a guess as to their socioeconomic status—current members must make a decision on a punch’s worthiness by the next “cut meeting.”

Given that they know that they are playing a precarious popularity game—one that is undeniably based on social, economic, or otherwise arbitrary standards—why do hundreds of students subject themselves to such capricious, often humiliating, selection processes?

Final clubs—male and female—are immensely attractive because they embody the wealth and prestige of gentleman’s Harvard, its (historically white and male) elitism. In addition to the promise of generous post-graduate alumni connections and a sense of belonging on this sometimes isolating campus, these social clubs offer spacious settings for social events. Students seek refuge in final clubs and other exclusive social organizations where they are granted space, conveniently in the form of mansions.

Partially as a result of this sorry state of affairs, final clubs are able to perpetuate clichéd social distinctions and concentrate influence over Harvard’s social life in the hands of a small number of (male) hands. Even when a female club has an event, it is almost always hosted by a male social club. For example, when Isis members held a meeting Friday night at which the issue of the e-mails was discussed, they gathered at the Fox, an all-male final club.

Yet, even if we did witness an increase in allocated student space, it is doubtful that these bastions of snobbery would disappear. As long as people want to get in, final clubs will maintain their air of exclusivity and, therefore, their perceived place atop Harvard’s social hierarchy. The burden of erasing this unfounded distinction and undermining this skewed power dynamic rests with Harvard students—only if we stop treating the clubs as prestigious, stop eagerly waiting outside their doors, and stop anxiously punching, will the clubs cease to dominate the College’s social landscape.

Ultimately, the punch process brings out the worst in everyone involved—punches desperate for acceptance, snide insiders gossiping about dating infidelities, and gleeful critics seizing on any opportunity to condemn the clubs. And after the punch process is over, those who did not get in can bitterly rage against the institution while those who did sit smugly satisfied, confirmed in their sense of superiority.

In short, the Isis punch book has simply confirmed what we already knew about the unfortunate nature of Harvard’s elite social scene. It is certainly regrettable that the current Isis punch members are serving as the casualties of that which is endemic to the final club scene at large. But this tangible piece of snootiness serves as a reminder that these clubs institutionalize a brand of distinction that is altogether unimpressive.