The Real Problem With Harvard’s Tourists

At Harvard, the campus belongs as much to the tourists as it does to us students.

For many of us, it is routine to stop and give directions to lost tourists on our way to a morning section. We weave through crowds gathered at the John Harvard statue and restrain ourselves from warning a toddler not to touch the germ-infested statue’s foot. We temporarily adopt the role of photographer as we are asked to take photos of families in front of Widener steps, Massachusetts Hall, Weld Hall, or any red-brick building that looks remotely historic or significant.

As one of the top tourist destinations in Massachusetts, Harvard draws in more than eight million tourists each year. While the abundance of tourists is profitable for the Square and the University, it harms students and Cambridge residents.

A number of studies have documented that tourism can drive gentrification. It seems to be no coincidence, then, that as tourists increasingly become key clientele for local businesses, affordable shops and restaurants are closing down, only to be replaced by more expensive alternatives.

In 2018, Panera Bread was replaced by Tatte, a high-end bakery. Not long after, Crema Cafe was replaced by Bluestone Lane and Pinkberry by Pressed Juicery, where a small bottle of juice will run you $7. Similarly, upscale shops like Amorino, a gelato store, and Blue Bottle Coffee have opened, catering to well-monied clientele.

While corporations may reap the benefits of the Square’s growing tourism industry, locals and Harvard students — especially those without money to burn — are forced to bear the brunt of the challenges. The Square must serve two disparate groups: tourists ready to splurge on vacation and the students and residents who call Cambridge home. Unfortunately, it has become less hospitable to the latter.

And while we might only blame tourism for the $13 bowls at El Jefe’s Taqueria, the continuous flow of strangers through our gates poses deeper problems. While one could always choose not to eat out, we students have much less control over our safety and privacy, which are also negatively affected by Harvard’s many tourists.

Those of us who live in the Yard must worry not only about the nosy tourists that try to catch a glimpse of first-floor dorms, but also those that slip through our doors behind us. I have personally found tourists inside my entryway, either curious to get an inside look at student life or searching for a bathroom.

Crime is not unheard of on campus. In 2o22 alone, the Harvard University Police Department reported 34 cases of burglary. Just this month, Yard Operations notified residents of Hollis Hall and Stoughton Hall’s first floor — all freshmen — that they would be “retrofitting the windows with grates for security reasons.”

This lack of security and privacy is no doubt exacerbated by the millions of tourists walking our grounds each year. We have to question whether the benefits of Harvard’s tourism industry truly outweigh the costs.

Granted, turnstiles for dorms or a drastically heightened HUPD presence in the Yard aren’t the solution. The dorms are our homes, and while we want to feel safe, draconian security measures that make them feel the opposite of homey are not the long-term answer.

Instead, the University can increase campus safety by simply limiting the access tourists have to the Yard. For example, the College can reinstate restrictions on access to the Yard for non-Harvard affiliates at certain hours of the day.

The presence of tourists is, undeniably, an ingrained part of Harvard culture, and we should be sympathetic toward them. After all, many of us were tourists here ourselves at some point. Nevertheless, as tourism puts pressure on local affordability and threatens students’ sense of security, we need to consider whether opening Harvard’s gates to all might be doing more harm than good.

Lyat M. Melese ’27, a Crimson Editorial editor, lives in Hollis Hall.