Harvard Alumni, It’s Time To Let Go.

My dad is very proud of where he went to college, and he makes sure everyone knows about it.

He has what I refer to as “Harvarditis,” a disorder I’m hoping will soon be recognized by the American Medical Association. It describes one who is abnormally fixated on Harvard and those who went there, to the point of obsession. Unfortunately, scientists have yet to find a cure.

This quirk, however, is not an isolated case of obsession; there is a notably widespread epidemic of Harvarditis among those who call this place their alma mater.

Vocal alumni seem to have an outsized influence on Harvard compared to many other schools. The most public examples of this phenomenon are high-profile donors like Bill A. Ackman ’88 who has regularly commented on University policy or Kenneth C. Griffin ’89, who has threatened to withhold donations completely.

Donor influence is common enough at elite institutions, as seen with their revolts over campus antisemitism at Columbia University and the University of Pennsylvania. But Harvard alums seem particularly outspoken.

Moreover, alumni are also actively involved in student organizations (including The Crimson) through graduate boards, often having a hand in their day-to-day operations. Presumably, Harvard students are perfectly capable of running their organizations without alumni micromanaging, so why the post-graduation involvement? It’s simply another symptom of an unhealthy alumni nostalgia.

Part of this preoccupation may stem from Harvard’s strong preference for the children of alumni in admissions. Preserving this school’s subjective greatness for the benefit of their legacy-boosted children is naturally a top priority for alumni parents.

Although this phenomenon may be driven by an innate desire to improve the Harvard community, I believe that ego is primarily at play.

Harvard is seen by many as the proverbial City on a Hill of higher education, and, in keeping with the Puritan theme, gaining admission is tantamount to joining the elect.

From the moment you get in here, people remind you about what it means to go to Harvard. When I tell people what school I go to, I’m occasionally met with a scornful face, but often people tell me “You must be really smart” and then start asking what extracurriculars I did in high school.

When enough people treat you like that, it’s easy to develop an inflated sense of self and start to think that your Harvard diploma is a certificate of your genius. The college you attend becomes a way of measuring your self-worth, and therefore, for some alumni, their time at Harvard constitutes the peak of their happiness and achievement.

It really isn’t, though. In the end, the life of a Harvard student is just not that different from any other college student. For the most part, we’re as broke, sleep-deprived, and sick as we ever will be.

People tend to remember experiences through particular memories. A crazy night out with their friends, a transformative conversation with a professor, or a funny character they encountered once. It’s easy to forget the anticlimactic, day-to-day reality of being a college student. As a current student, that’s why it seems irrational to me that some are so obsessed with returning to their days in Cambridge.

So here’s my message to alumni: Move on. Obviously, you can be proud that you went here, but that doesn’t mean you have to wear an H sweater everywhere you go.

At the end of the day, this was only four years of your life. You have presumably done so much since you left this school that Harvard doesn’t need to be a massive part of your identity. Let the University evolve with the students and faculty who are here now instead of clinging to a vision of what Harvard once was.

As for me, there’ll definitely be a chapter in my book for Harvard. It just won’t be the whole thing.

Henry F. Haidar ’28, a Crimson Editorial editor, lives in Wigglesworth Hall.