If you or someone you know needs help at Harvard, please contact Counseling and Mental Health Services at (617) 495-2042 or the Harvard University Police Department at (617) 495-1212. Some peer counseling groups offer confidential peer conversations. Learn more about.
You can speak one-on-one with a university chaplain at chaplains@harvard.edu or here.
You can also call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 988 or text the Crisis Text Line at 741741.
Last Thursday, a jury found Harvard University Counseling and Mental Health Services employee Melanie G. Northrop not guilty in the case related to the suicide of Luke Z. Tan ’18. I am not a member of Mr Tan’s family and did not know him. I am neither a legal scholar nor a psychiatrist. I cannot pretend to confirm whether Mr. Northrop, Mr. Tan’s case manager, was correct in his acquittal.
Instead, I would like to urge you to seize this moment and reflect on how Harvard’s mental health system has failed and continues to fail students. Similarly, we must demand reforms to reduce the likelihood of such tragedies happening again.
At the heart of Harvard’s mental health system is a spirit of mistrust, paternalism, and surveillance. This spirit is exemplified in the case of Mr. Tang.
Tan attempted suicide on April 11, 2015, when she was in first grade. After his attempt, he was admitted to McLean Hospital, a teaching hospital affiliated with Harvard Medical School, for seven days. A few weeks later, a deal was finalized between Harvard and Tan, and Tan’s signing was a prerequisite for his return to campus.
The contract requires Mr. Tan to follow recommendations (including prescription medications) from his treatment provider, prohibits him from changing this medication regimen without permission, and requires him to submit to a psychiatric evaluation at the request of “university officials.” They were required to undergo a medical examination and were given permission to contact the university. Parents if the terms of the contract are violated. Failure to comply would jeopardize Tan’s continued admission to Harvard University.
Mr Tan tried to amend these terms before signing. he was rejected.
He died by suicide on September 12, 2015.
It is easy to explain why Harvard’s “care” centers around contractual obligations. In the eyes of our government, students who are considered to pose an immediate threat to themselves appear to have legal and public relations responsibilities. Harvard does not want to become a school known for student suicides, nor does it want to spend its endowment (more than $50 billion) on lawsuits and settlements.
While the financial and reputational motivations of universities are understandable, these motivations should not influence our approach to mental health care, even at the expense of students’ health. Sadly, the terms of Tan’s contract and the circumstances surrounding his signing may have had a negative impact on his health.
The fact that his contract was non-negotiable denied Tan’s personhood and denied him autonomy over his care. In fact, his only choice was to comply or unsubscribe.
The terms of the contract were similarly stifling.
Encouraging treatment and encouraging treatment are two different things. Mandating it under threat of removal is another story. The terms of the contract suggest a deep mistrust of students suffering from mental health issues. This approach sends a clear message that Harvard does not trust you.
Preventing students from changing their medication regimen without the consent of their treatment team is a clear violation of their bodily autonomy. Reactions to psychiatric drugs vary and range from dangerous side effects to unwanted mood changes that can be justified as a “necessary evil” by the wrong health care provider. Harvard’s arrangement amounts to forced medication on students.
By expanding the scope of who could request a psychiatric evaluation of Mr. Tan to the very vague category of “university personnel,” Harvard University unfairly exposed the student to unwarranted scrutiny and observation. When university officials have this power, there are few safe authorities to rely on without risking expulsion from the university. Talking about your experiences can be dangerous.
By reserving the right to contact parents about a student’s mental health, the administration overstepped its authority and interfered in family matters. Such a reach is especially insidious for students with unsupportive parents, and worse, a blatant violation of students’ privacy, as is the case for many gay students with unaccepting families. There is a possibility that We may be young, but we are still adults and have the right to decide who is involved in our care.
When Harvard treats students as debt, it sends a clear signal to students in need that there may not be a place for you here.
Harvard’s current system reinforces the stigma surrounding mental health. We need to redesign to actively combat this stigma. If universities truly care about mental health, they must start seeing students as complete human beings: human beings with dignity, human beings capable of reasoning and decision-making, and human beings with the right to bodily autonomy. It won’t.
Resistance to change makes Harvard complicit in today’s mental health crisis.
Alison P. Farrell ’26, Crimson editor, is a philosophy concentrator at Leverett House.
