HARVARD was once a great university. It may still be, but it is now even greater theater. No one knows the script better than government professor Harvey C. Mansfield, a renowned scholar of political philosophy who has a certain knack for finding trouble.
It was hardly a surprise, then, when his first lecture this semester landed him in the pages of the Boston Globe. On the first day of class, Mansfield, a legendarily tough grader, announced a new approach to evaluating his students. Henceforth, he would bestow two grades — one reflecting the true value of their work, and another “ironic grade” reflecting Harvard’s inflated grading system. The “ironic grade” would go to the registrar so that each student’s perfect transcript, if not his ego, would remain intact.
That Harvard inflates its grades should hardly be a controversial claim. This past academic year, more than half of the marks given to Harvard students were “A-” or higher. Grades are supposed to convey relative merit. And it seems preposterous that half the students at Harvard have achieved near perfection. Yet, that is precisely what many Harvard students believe. Mansfield’s new two-tiered system was applauded on campus, but not for its subversive intent.
In the past, students enrolling in Mansfield’s courses faced a cruel bargain: one of the best learning experiences at Harvard, in exchange for the risk of an honest evaluation. (That risk is not insignificant, as a “C” does not please Wall Street recruiters.) Now, it seemed, the learning finally could come risk-free. The campus paper, the Harvard Crimson, ran an editorial celebrating the demise of Mansfield’s “despotic grading” and facetiously welcoming his realization that Harvard students have the “infinite wisdom necessary to master the great works presented in his class.”
If Harvard’s students had missed Mansfield’s point, they would not miss a chance to further deride him, and it soon came their way. In the course of an interview about grade inflation, Mansfield was asked about the origins of the problem. He explained that it was linked to the concern over self-esteem. Instructors from elementary schools to universities want their students not to feel bad, so they give out higher grades than their students deserve. Mansfield also posited a related historical explanation. When affirmative action opened Harvard’s doors to a large number of minorities in the early 1970s, “white professors were unwilling to give black students Cs to avoid giving them a rough welcome. At the same time they didn’t give Cs to white students to be fair.”
Mansfield’s affirmative action theory was not well received. The dean of Harvard College, Harry Lewis, told the Globe, “This is groundless and false. It is irresponsible for him to make this broad and divisive claim without providing a shred of evidence to support it.” Harvard’s Black Students’ Association reacted with outrage. Apparently dismissing Lewis’s public denunciation as inadequate, its president, Aaliyah Williams, complained to the Crimson, “The University has not done anything in the way of censuring [Mansfield]. For an institution that says it values diversity so much . . . they should walk the walk instead of just talking it.”
Forget for a moment the pristine absurdity of censuring an outspoken professor in the name of diversity. First, it must be acknowledged that Dean Lewis is correct on one count — Mansfield’s theory is short on supplementary evidence. There is no statistical proof that grades rose concurrently with the arrival of black students. But those clamoring for Mansfield’s punishment are not angry at his anecdotal approach to history or his ascription of charitable instincts to white professors. Rather, they reject the implication that black students required any charity to begin with. Williams argues that Mansfield’s comments “discredit the efforts of African Americans who came [to Harvard] and worked so hard.” Again, on the subject of relative qualifications, Mansfield offers no firm evidence. But that is hardly his fault.
Mansfield’s offensive contention rests on a simple assumption: Black students admitted through affirmative action in the early 1970s were less academically qualified — through no fault of their own — than those admitted without the benefit of special consideration. They, therefore, needed help to earn high grades. This assumption could easily be tested by examining the high school GPAs and test scores of incoming black and white students at the time. But Harvard deliberately withholds the relevant data. Lewis explains, “I don’t know the precise origin of this policy, but I view it as of a piece with our general view that students are admitted here as individuals, not as representatives of classes.”
It is natural to wonder why, if black students in the early 1970s were as prepared as whites, affirmative action was necessary at all. Lewis declines to speculate on the abilities of students in the past, but insists, “Today there is no significant difference between the academic qualifications of minority students and other students.” He points to graduation rates — the only data the university releases by race — as evidence. Of course, given the school’s generous grading system, Harvard’s high graduation rate is hardly compelling testimony to its students’ merit — black or white.
In an admirable show of restraint, Harvard has thus far declined to formally censure Mansfield for his remarks. University president Neil Rudenstine issued a statement denying a connection between minority enrollment and grade inflation, but never naming the offending professor. The Black Students’ Association staged a sit-in protest at one of Mansfield’s lectures, and subsequently met with him for two hours behind closed doors. Said Williams after the meeting, “He clarified his point of view, which was that his main issue was with white professors and white guilt. He needs to communicate that more, that his issue is with the professors and not with us.”
The university, meanwhile, has no plans to combat grade inflation. Only Mansfield’s students can expect an honest assessment of their work, even if it will no longer be part of their scholastic record. But that should cause no trouble. As this most recent episode confirms, when it comes to affirmative action, Harvard would prefer not to face uncomfortable realities. When it comes to the students’ own intellectual vigor, they are equally squeamish.
Noah D. Oppenheim is a producer at Hardball with Chris Matthews on MSNBC.
