DISSENT: On Campus, Off Campus

Kaavya Viswanathan was a writer long before she came to Harvard. She will be a writer long after she leaves this campus. That she happens to be a Harvard student for these four years of her life should not strip her of her personal identity. She should be held accountable, above all, to herself, not to an institution—even if that institution, at least in the public eye, defines her first. In her (dubious) authorship of “Opal Mehta,” we should see Viswanthan as a writer first, and a Harvard student second.

To send Viswanathan to the Administrative Board is to send the wrong message to both the Harvard community and the community at large—namely, that Harvard’s name subsumes all other identities we might have before, during, and after our tenure here.

The primary function of the Ad Board is to deliberate and pass judgment on Harvard students’ behavior as it relates to student life. This year’s “Adminstrative Board Guide for Students” lists the “resolution of alleged infractions of College rules, breaches of community standards, or other disciplinary matters” as one of its three purposes. By failing to define the abstract notion of “community standards,” however, the Ad Board is presumptuous. Rather than adhering to its intended purpose, namely, to determine the punishment for those actions that fall within a defined discretion, the Ad Board appropriates itself an unacceptably large scope due to its ability to arbitrarily decide what infractions merit its attention.

The ambiguity of such a broad jurisdiction threatens to deprive enrolled students of their identities outside the context of their scholarship. Essentially, every action a student takes is colored by their status as a student at Harvard, more so than any other identity he or she might have. For example, students who engage in marijuana use over summer, not on campus, should not be disciplined by Harvard, nor should a student in the military who faces a court-martial face additional punishment from the College. Given that these infractions are unrelated to one’s status as a student, their reprimand should be unrelated to the University as well.

The particulars of Viswanathan’s case prove more complex than those previously mentioned, because many perceive plagiarism to be more of an issue of personal character rather than isolated actions. However, this seems to be a matter of scope rather than her Harvard affiliation. The writing and publication of “Opal Mehta” lie entirely beyond the purview of her academic work and therefore beyond the purview of the Ad Board. That she drafted the manuscript in a Lamont carrel is wholly irrelevant.

While many who advocate disciplinary action against Viswanathan cite “behavior unbecoming of a Harvard student” as grounds for her dismissal, such a claim reeks of elitism. Though Harvard touts itself as an “ivory tower,” the undefined notion of behavior befitting of a Harvard student imposes a higher expectation of conduct (simply because of the Harvard name) without making clear what actions can knock us off that high ground. While we hope that Ad Board limits its scope solely to those actions that pertain to our lives as Harvard students, even more crucial is its explicit delineation of what actions warrant its intervention.

Before the Ad Board takes a step as rash as disciplining a student for behavior outside her academic and extracurricular life at Harvard, it must make explicit the instances in which students are acting in their capacity as Harvard students and the instances in which they are not. Until the Ad Board defines such parameters, it has no jurisdiction over Viswanathan’s punishment, which should remain in the legal sphere. Even if she is found to have intentionally plagiarized passages from other novels, that offense, though certainly reprehensible, warrants punishment only from those whom she has offended—namely, the authors and publishers of the plagiarized works.

By letting the influence (if not the words) of other writers seep into her own prose, Viswanathan overstepped her bounds. Let us hope that the Ad Board does not overstep its own.



Emma M. Lind ’09, a Crimson editorial editor, lives in Grays Hall. Ramya Parthasarathy ’09, a Crimson editorial editor, lives in Stoughton Hall.