Eldo Kim sent two emails that are now etched into my memory. I’ve pondered both deeply since Monday’s events. His second email, which contained the threat, sent shivers down my spine as I read the hoax he conjured up. But focusing on the words of this email is beside the point. Can there ever be a nice or courteous bomb threat? The question almost seems ridiculous to ask because the answer is obviously no. So I turn my attention to the first email of Eldo Kim’s: the one sent the night before his exam over the Quincy-Open listserv.
The Crimson printed the following excerpt from Kim’s email: “I was wondering if anyone had taken GOV 1368: The Politics of American Education (Paul Peterson) in the past. I have several quick questions about the course.” Reading this email, my heart sank. The desperation of this email certainly is something that resonates with Harvard students. We’ve all had moments when we’ve felt that the pile of work facing us is insurmountable, when we’ve thought that our ruination would be brought about by an exam or a paper or a project. We’ve all shared this feeling with Kim, but we are not all Eldo Kim.
What separates us from Kim, then? For one thing, despite the fact that most of us have felt at one point or another as Kim did on Sunday night, he stands out as the only Harvard student in recent history to have created a bomb threat in order to avert potential failure of his final. Most of us, even in the face of desperation, are able to see that failure, at least in the grand scheme of things, is preferable to committing a crime or even compromising our morals.
Some may say that the difference separating us from Kim is merely a matter of degree. Everyone makes bad choices, and some are of greater moral import than others. This is certainly true. I would never say that Harvard is full of saints who have never transgressed, but we should treat this matter of degree seriously. Zak Lutz’s concern for not returning phone calls and Kim’s actions are not equal. Moreover, the conclusion that he draws from this false equivalency—that “…we’ve all forgotten who we really are and what really matters”—simply is not true, and is in fact an insult to those of us at Harvard who know who we are and have a sense of what matters.
Lutz’s claim that we “probably never could’ve gotten into Harvard” without losing ourselves is deeply disappointing. When I think about my peers and friends at Harvard, I think of friends who stay up until 2AM talking with me when I’ve had a bad day, roommates who leave notes and cookies for encouragement when papers and exams are looming, and blockmates who have provided a shoulder to cry on and who have cried on my shoulder.
I’ll admit it, when I found out that a Harvard student was responsible for the hoax, I talked to my friend (a fellow Harvard student) for over an hour about how I was having a crisis of faith. My faith in humanity (and our alma mater), I told him, was seriously thrown into question by the actions of a peer. How could someone do something so wrong and disrespectful to his peers, his institution, and even his country (which wasted valuable resources and time on a hoax)? But this conversation was ultimately, and perhaps paradoxically, affirming. Through our conversation, my faith was restored when I was reminded that my friend, whom I met because of Harvard, has a stronger sense of self and priorities than almost anyone else I know. Other people, especially my friends at Harvard, have continually reminded me that good exists, that people here have values worth defending and work day-in and day-out to uphold them.
I agree with Lutz that an open dialogue on the culture of stress and achievement at Harvard is necessary. I agree even more strongly with his views that success at Harvard is a pale accomplishment in comparison to personal fulfillment. I repeat to myself and my friends (who love me even with my moralizing tendencies) that we should all just try to be decent people. However, I do not think that writing all Harvard students off as amoral (or worse, immoral) individuals without senses of ourselves will help in facilitating this dialogue. Instead, let’s frame this discussion in an entirely different light. Let’s remember why, even in moments of desperation, we have made the right choices.