When the time came for the final, a friend came to me and told me that he had not attended classes or read anything all year. Now he would surely fail. Not to worry, I said. I spent all night drilling him on the seven essay questions I felt the professor was most likely to ask. Sure enough, six of the seven questions actually appeared. My friend chose three to write on and got an A- for the class. I took the same exam, but my paper was graded by one of the Marxists. He disagreed with my point of view and gave me a C. Outraged, I took my test to the professor and asked him to regrade it. He gave it an A but refused to change the grade, saying that to do so would be unfair to all the other students who didn’t get the opportunity to have their exam reviewed. What about absolute justice? I asked. What if my admission to Law or Business School would be denied because of this mark? How could you give a course on ideology and then disregard it in your own class? I never took another class from this professor or even spoke to him again. And he was one of the best.

In my sophomore year the student body organized a huge protest in favor of affirmative action. What a joke. These students, supposedly the cream of the nation’s intellectual elite, all chosen for their superior intelligence and all choosing to go to Harvard in order to be surrounded by others choosing academic superiority, were now holding a rally demanding that in the future students not be admitted on the merit system. Such a policy would discredit every minority student accepted as merely a quota filler, destroying incentive to really upgrade primary education for the poor.

I resolved to oppose this demonstration with a demonstration of my own. Unfortunately, the small cadre of libertarians and conservatives who had originally agreed to a counterdemonstration all backed out as the hour neared. Thus, following a mass of placard-waving students marching down Massachusetts Avenue chanting for affirmative action, was me, universally booed, taunted, and jeered at, carrying a sign that read admit on merit.

At this demonstration, however, one of the leaders made a point that really struck me. In the jungle, he said, there were two animals out to get you: the hyena and the snake. The hyena, he said, pointing to me, isn’t really dangerous. He’s just a big fool, with no power, who makes a lot of noise, and this can easily be dealt with. The snake, on the other hand, he said, pointing to the administration building, is far more dangerous. They never speak in opposition to you. They yes you to death. They set up committees to study your grievance, and then, when you least expect it, they quietly bite you on the heel and ignore your demands and do you in.

This, I thought, was a really good point. What was I changing out there? In the future, I resolved to be more of a snake, letting the other side blow steam while I just kept quiet and did in their smug world of entitlement, regulation, and the like.

Not that I was able to keep my mouth shut for long. In my senior year, some of the student leaders organized OXFAM Day. This was to be a day where students fasted, skipping dinner in the dining hall so Harvard Food Service could donate $2.37 per faster to OXFAM’s programs for the world’s hungry. I thought this was a crock. I was happy to give $2.37 to OXFAM so I could have supper. In fact, I was donating thousands of dollars a year to the world’s poor. I went out alone one night a week to give sandwiches and drinks to the homeless.