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Privilege: Harvard and the Education of the Ruling Class

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I graduated two years behind Mr. Douthat, and in the same concentration, so I greeted the news that this book was going to be published with a great deal of anticipation.

Some of it was justified. Some of it was hype. And some of it jarred so substantially with my experience of Harvard that I couldn't believe that we had, for at least a couple of overlapping years, occupied the same two or three square miles of Cambridge.

In praise of Douthat: his writing is clear, and the dialogue he records is pitch perfect. He chronicles experiences that older writers attempting to "get" the modern college experience miss, like the so-called "college marriage," which perhaps doesn't get the "Time" and "Newsweek" headlines that the casual hook-up seems to grab with such alacrity, but which nonetheless deserves notice and comment. He's absolutely right, if a bit ponderous, about Harvard's lack of academic rigor, and the extent to which this is a national phenomenon that appears to be catching.

On the other hand, however, there's that ponderous. First-hand accounts of his life at Harvard are followed by long parades of statistical data that resemble a social science paper more than a memoir, and the curious hybrid produced tends to feel awkward and over-generalized, as if Douthat is trying to provide justification for his experiences with numbers. Too many times, his positions seemed to be culled directly from David Brooks' "Bobos in Paradise", which is an obvious and very direct influence, and, in the end, a book that says much of what "Privilege" is saying, but with less of the deadly earnestness which casts a pallor over Douthat's otherwise reasonably good prose. Brooks is funny, offbeat, and less than rigorous in just the right places; Douthat, despite his repeated assurances to the contrary, cares too much about the very privilege he derides to really give Harvard's brand of privilege the horsewhipping it deserves. The book is highly self-conscious because of it.

I would happily put all of these issues down to a first time writer's mistakes if the book wasn't so terribly wrong in its entire mission. In calling his book "Privilege", in claiming to write about Harvard as an entity, and in his long pages of statistics, Douthat is making far greater a claim to accuracy than he can reasonably uphold. For example, he devotes an entire chapter to finals clubs, Harvard's bizarre mix of fraternities and secret societies, and his endeavor to successfully "punch" one of them. In doing so, he seems to say that this is an essential part of the Harvard experience.

I, nor anyone I ever knew at Harvard, punched a final club, or was even more than passingly aware of their existence. If I were to read Douthat's book without my own experiences to tell me otherwise, I would assume that they were an integral part of Harvard, like the Johnston Gate or the godawfulness of Annenberg's faux Gothic spires. I suppose this means that I wasn't among the elite or "privileged", but if not, doesn't this rather refute Douthat's argument that such privilege _is_ the provenance of the Harvard student? Likewise for much of the rest of his commentary. Douthat would like very much to portray all of us as money-grubbing careerists who, coming from utterly uniform upper middle class backgrounds, are willing to put aside love and happiness now for the prospect of spectacular success later.

Well, while Douthat was playing touch football at Alistair Woolvington's estate, I was working two jobs to help my parents defray expenses. Douthat would have me marry at the age of 30 or so, after I've earned my Ph.D. from Berkeley and founded a charity in the Bronx, but I became engaged on the day of my last final exam, and, at 23, married my husband. I followed his job to San Diego, where I spend my time at one of the least lucrative professions of all: writing. I have no aspirations to graduate programs and do not in the least regret my decisions.

If that bit of personal history proves anything, it's that Douthat focuses on one type of student in this book, but not all students. If he didn't claim to do more, or at least imply it, I would have rated "Privilege" considerably higher, in both quality and honesty. As it is, however, only the quality of the writing and isolated moments of insight save it from mediocrity.

Some people in this thread have posed the question, "Why should anyone care?" A good point, but I'll add to it. One should care even less, because this book doesn't even represent Harvard as it is. It represents Mr. Douthat as he is, and alas, he's a little young for an autobiography.

Also: I don't know if anyone has put this together yet, but Sarah Mahurin (according to the "fifteen minutes" article about Suzanne Pomey) was Pomey's roommate whose ATM card Pomey stole, which makes her the "Sally Maddox" character in "Privilege" and a friend of Douthat. Tsk, tsk.

As a college senior, I didn't realize how similar colleges can be until I read this book and talked to friends at other schools. There are certainly differences between Stanford, Chicago, Harvard, and other top schools but there remain similarities. It seems that students generally aren't very focused on long-term relationships or the life of the mind, choosing instead to focus on building resumes and doing well for themselves. This isn't news, but what I liked about this book was how the author used great stories from his time at Harvard to flesh out that generalization of what students are like. As a college student, I liked this book because it rang true with my own experience. If you're older, you may like this book because it can give you a vivid picture of college life today. My only criticism is that I thought the book could have been tighter, which means that I wasn't particularly interested in everything the author had to say. But whether you end up captivated for all 300 pages or just briefly interested, I recommend taking a look.

Douthat tells us that the real business of Harvard is the pursuit of success, and personal connections from which such success flows - professors, summer internships, pundits and politicians who flock there to speak, and fellow classmates.

"Privilege" tells us that Harvard (like everywhere else) suffers from grade inflation (limited to the humanities and social societies) and a Great Society urge to broaden and integrate its campus. (The latter ultimately ended up with Afro-American Studies Professor Cornell West walking out on President Summer's request for more scholarly output. The point of a broadened student body is to expand one's understanding of life - however, at Harvard it was undermined by subsequent self-segregation. Regardless, most of the students were liberals, usually from blue states, moneyed, and predominantly from a few top private schools.)

Douthat then takes us through the world of joining (or not) an exclusive male club (a substitute for fraternities), the pursuit of young love and sex, "working smarter" - splitting up reading assignments and sharing notes, skipping class while relying on the professor's notes being on-line, ways to submit late papers, and campus protests of anything and everything.

It was disappointing to learn that much of a Harvard education consists of hair-splitting and academic trivia, not the solid lessons one would hopefully learn from generalizing major points and trends in history, etc.

"Privilege" makes one wonder whether getting into and paying for Harvard (and probably any other high-cost private school) is worthwhile. President Summer's efforts to reform Harvard probably would help, but then he got the boot for not being politically correct - even more reason to wonder. Regardless, the "good news" is that Douthat is now Associate Editor at the Atlantic Monthly - a position he probably would not have attained without Harvard, but most likely would perform just as well anyway if he had gone to a state school.

This is the second excellent self-deprecating book about Harvard I have read. The first one is "Harvard Schmarvard" by Jay Matthews, a must-read college guide for any one going through the college admission/selection phase. On the other hand, Ross Douthat book is not a college guide, but it is a fascinating insider documentary on one's Harvard education experience.

Contrary to what we believe, Harvard is not an academic pressure cooker. Grade inflation is actually so rampant, that a notorious professor decided to adopt a dual grading system. Thus, he decided to give his students two grades, the first one is the grade they truly deserved. This grade is known by no one else but the students themselves. The second grade is curved reflecting Harvard's grade inflation and is the one that will go on the transcript. Thus, you could have a bunch a B- students graduating with very impressive A - GPAs going on to the top business, law, and med schools in the country. The author explained this process is the result of the inevitable commercialization of grades. In other words, GPAs now mean access to the top graduate schools, and thus mean a lot of money over the lifetime career earnings of Harvard undergraduates. Thus, professors are under rising pressures to give good grades. The days when a professor may be subject to lawsuits for giving less than sterling grades may not be far away.

The author goes on criticizing Harvard's "Core" curriculum that has not changed since 1978. He states that the Core was a politically correct effort to get away from the "elitist" framework of the more rigorous earlier curriculum that had a traditional "Great Books" framework. Thus, nowadays a student is increasingly unlikely to have studied Shakespeare, Goethe, or Proust. Instead, he may have been exposed to unknown authors who are perceived by the teachers to be equally deserving of legacy from a politically correct framework. Also, the level of research and insightfulness required on studying such writers by both the students and their professors, is really mediocre. Also, the Core offers no sense of breadth and depth. A course on inequality in Mexico in the 20th Century will receive the same credit as one on Reason and Faith in the West since the onset of the Renaissance. Also, if the latter course is deemed to be excellent by the students, it will be swamped and overbooked. Thus, it will be highly unlikely you will be able to take it during your four years at Harvard. You may have to take the course on inequality in Mexico whether you want to or not, if you want to graduate on time and not spend an extra $40K for an extra year at Harvard.

The author also directly criticizes the quality of the teaching. He found most professors to be unengaged and more concerned about their research and journals publications. Many classes were taught by overburdened teaching assistants. Finally, counseling was sorely lacking. Harvard offers thousands of potentially very interesting classes, but no one helps you in figuring out what are the magic 32 ones that you should take over the next four years. The author describes this process as a random function.

Thus, after reading this book you conclude that Harvard may still provide the most lucrative and coveted college degree in the U.S. A career of richness (materially) may be open to you, if you do get this magical piece of paper. But, will you get an education whose quality matches the illustriousness of the piece of paper? The author's conclusion, is certainly not. That is an obviously gutsy stand. You hope the Harvard establishment reads this book, and works on correcting the many educational weaknesses uncovered by the author. This process can only help further the reputation of the school. From what I understand Laurence Summers, the current Dean, is working on it and upsetting everyone in the process. That's an interesting unfolding political battle to watch.

Mr. Douthat has written a very readable and chatty book about what life is really like for Harvard undergraduates today. About 2000 people graduate from Harvard every year. I'm sure that quite a few think about writing about their experiences. But it is rare for someone to do it and even rarer for someone to be insightful in describing their years at Harvard. Mr. Douthat does that with a breezy style.

His observations are on target. As he documents, the hardest part about Harvard is getting in. In terms of education while you are there, the expectations are meager. Instead, Harvard and other Ivies serve a social purpose; to anoint the future leaders and kingmakers of this country.

The social purpose of Harvard has been a constant for centuries. But in its history, Harvard's academic standards have waxed and waned. At times - and now is one of those times - its standards are miserably low. Henry Adams wrote about this same problem a century ago. I'm not going to say that Ross Douthat is the next Henry Adams. Mr. Douthat is not a deep thinker or writer in this book. But he gets his points across with deftness.

Whether this book serves as a catalyst for change is doubtful. However, this book will serve as a useful overview for any future historian who wants to understand just how poorly America educated its undergraduates at the turn of the 21st century. And for today's reader, it gives an understanding of what is being missed by not attending Harvard and other Ivies: educationally, little is missed; but for those who don't attend these institutions, the opportunity to join this nation's ruling class is significantly lessened.

Ross Gregory Douthat insightfully tells us that today's "ruling class," composed of the graduates of Harvard and other elite institutions, has lost its sense of noblesse oblige. This is so because our country has become so meritocratic.

Douthat tells us that Harvard students feel they deserve to be there because they are the most talented and have worked so incredibly hard in high school to compile an impressive enough resume to get in. "They belong exactly where they are---the standardized test scores and college admissions officers have spoken, and their word is final." Our meritocratic society has reduced the arbitrariness of a student's acceptance at elite schools, and there will be less arbitrariness than in days-gone-by about a Harvardian's place in America's elite when he or she graduates.

This attitude contrasts with that of Harvard students and graduates of 100 years ago ("in the days before Verdun and Passchendaele"). In those days students were accepted and attended because of birth, i.e. their parents had the money, their families had social connections, etc. Douthat tells us that ideals of noblesse oblige grew from the "knowledge that God (or blind chance) had given the elite much that was not necessarily deserved." Douthat goes on to tell us that "on Harvard's campus reminders of that vanished era are everywhere...in inscriptions, on bridges and gates, that offer exhortations redolent with late-Victorian themes of honor and chivalry, patriotism and piety...ENTER TO GROW IN WISDOM, Dexter Gate tells those who pass through, and DEPART TO BETTER SERVE THY COUNTRY AND THY KIND."

However, Douthat also tells us that "No one speaks like this anymore---not at Harvard...." Because at today's Harvard, according to Douthat, knowledge of the source of noblesse oblige "has been wiped away. The modern elite's rule is regarded not as arbitrary, but as just right and true, at least if one follows the logic of meritocracy to its logical conclusion." As a result, Harvard students are concerned only with themselves and their personal success, and Douthat's memoir points to apparently real life characters, like Suzanne Pomey, as examples of the troubled path down which this attitude can take us. Douthat's comparison of her with Fitzgerald's Jay Gatsby is well done. "Society gets the sociopath it deserves," warns Douthat, and for this reason Harvard alumni, students, faculty and administration should read this well written memoir.

A novel that contains an excellent contrast of a pre-World War I Harvard graduate with a late 20th Century Harvard graduate, and the themes from Douthat's book that I have discussed above, is "American Blue Blood" by William C. Codington.

Ross Gregory Douthat insightfully tells us that today's "ruling class," composed of the graduates of Harvard and other elite institutions, has lost its sense of noblesse oblige. This is so because our country has become so meritocratic.

Douthat tells us that Harvard students feel they deserve to be there because they are the most talented and have worked so incredibly hard in high school to compile an impressive enough resume to get in. "They belong exactly where they are---the standardized test scores and college admissions officers have spoken, and their word is final." Our meritocratic society has reduced the arbitrariness of a student's acceptance at elite schools, and there will be less arbitrariness than in days-gone-by about a Harvardian's place in America's elite when he or she graduates.

This attitude contrasts with that of Harvard students and graduates of 100 years ago ("in the days before Verdun and Passchendaele"). In those days students were accepted and attended because of birth, i.e. their parents had the money, their families had social connections, etc. Douthat tells us that ideals of noblesse oblige grew from the "knowledge that God (or blind chance) had given the elite much that was not necessarily deserved." Douthat goes on to tell us that "on Harvard's campus reminders of that vanished era are everywhere...in inscriptions, on bridges and gates, that offer exhortations redolent with late-Victorian themes of honor and chivalry, patriotism and piety...ENTER TO GROW IN WISDOM, Dexter Gate tells those who pass through, and DEPART TO BETTER SERVE THY COUNTRY AND THY KIND. No one speaks like this anymore---not at Harvard...."

So, at today's Harvard, according to Douthat, knowledge of the source of noblesse oblige "has been wiped away. The modern elite's rule is regarded not as arbitrary, but as just right and true, at least if one follows the logic of meritocracy to its logical conclusion." As a result, Harvard students are concerned only with themselves and their personal success, and Douthat's memoir points to apparently real life characters, like Suzanne Pomey, as examples of the troubled path down which this attitude can take us. Douthat's comparison of her with Fitzgerald's Jay Gatsby is very well done. "Society gets the sociopath it deserves," warns Douthat, and for this reason Harvard alumni, students, faculty and administration should read this well written memoir.

A novel that contains an excellent contrast of a pre-World War I Harvard graduate with a late 20th Century Harvard graduate, and the themes from Douthat's book that I have discussed above, is "American Blue Blood" by William C. Codington.

The modern iteration of William F. Buckley's classic God and Man at Yale, conservative commentator Ross Gregory Douthat's main arguments have a much broader concern than Harvard, namely, his disquiet with the present state of the American college experience. While the examples center on Harvard, the book is really a crtical rumination on students, parents, and administrators and professors who view elite colleges merely as stepping-stones to high salaries and elite social networks rather than the keepers of the flame of learning and academic excellence. As Tom Wolfe did in his fictional I am Charlotte Simmons, he also focuses on the moral guidance (or lack thereof) regarding sexual relations, career, and social relations at today's universities. All in all a thought provoking book, told from a somewhat conservative perspective (which to his credit, the author makes clear where he is coming from.)

I read this book with great interest. Not being a graduate of an Ivy League school, I was always curious what that type of environment is like.
Just as the author outlines -- it is pretty disappointing. The students avoid work like the plague, but do engage in some intellectual conversation outside of class, not big deal conversation, I have to add. They discuss the type of things you would expect a bunch of overprivileged brats to. Of the conversations recounted by Douthat, I really didn't think much of it was innovative or interesting. They all express great concern about the world, at least until their trustfunds kick in, or they get that pricey job.
This avoidance of work was surprising to me, considering even in the non-Ivy I attended didn't have people who were so innovative at not doing work. At my school, almost no one did their work, but these people fell by the wayside. I guess you could avoid work if you could drop the H-bomb on unsuspecting employers, and naive girls. High praise to the Harvardians for using their sharp minds to avoid work like they did. Bravo.
Moreover, everyone is portrayed as totally wrapped up in their own crap, to high degree. This is probably a function of age, since in most undergrad situations, whether at an Ivy, or some other institution, is rife with this kind of thing. But, these Harvardians seem even more wrapped up in their own crap than even the undergrads I remember. Wow, you didn't make it into the final club of your choice -- you should throw yourself into the Charles river. I guess the world's greatest university doesn't offer any other activities, does it? What house are you going to end up in, they all worry about? I guess because you will remember this for more than five minutes after you graduate. It reminded me of the house choosing scene in Harry Potter, when the Hogwarts students get that magical hat put on them. I guess these people are also little children, like the budding wizards in that movie.
The chapter on the abortive romance was another classic. Most guys I know wouldn't react by crying when turned down by a girl. Ok, Douthat is brave for writing about it, but still most men don't react that way. I guess this makes him sensitive, or something. Or a wimp. Take your pick. I did enjoy the college marriage treatise, because I see this type of relationship all the time and it makes me cringe.
Overall, I felt about this book the way Douthat felt about Harvard. I was expecting a real incisive look into life in the Ivies, not a rambling travelogue of hooking up, avoiding work and interchangable roommates at a college that happened to be called Harvard. Also, his writing style is very simplistic, and not what I was expecting from someone who went to gleaming Harvard. I guess avoiding work at the big H paid big dividends, like his simplistic writing style.

I didn't know much about the author when I started reading this book except that he was Catholic and a Republican. I assumed he came from a working class background and was going to talk a lot of smack about the fat cats. I was wrong.

It turns out its more of a right-wing rant about diversity, super-rich preps, and the glory of outdated authors. I expected a book about privilege and Harvard to suggest perhaps these people should get out more and read something more in touch with (dare I say it) the real world.

Still, I enjoyed the book. I love Harvard bashing. Yet I also secretly love Harvard. Sometimes I wish I were a student there instead of at its cross-town cousin. I've met a number of Harvard students and it turns out they are kind of normal. Indeed, Douthat himself seems like a sort-of normal guy. I wouldn't mind talking trash about how my Rays are going to stomp all over his Sox this year (again).

I guess the unintended lesson of the book is that even rich people hate rich people, and even rich people are people. Or maybe I wouldn't know, I couldn't bother to finish it.