Death of the Renaissance Man and the Lost Soul of Harvard

I was born in Assissi, spent my childhood in Florence, spent time in Jerusalem and Jeddah and moved to Aix-en-provence. I was a apprentice at the Abbaye Notre-Dame de Senanque for few years before crossing the Atlantic for postgraduate studies in Classical, Medieval and Renaissance studies. In the Nineteenth century and the early 20th century, until the 1950s, Harvard University used to be an elitist conservative, vintage university of New England for Boston brahmins many of whom have their origins in the Puritan times of John Winthrop. They held dearly European values and created a New England out of their own culture that epitomozed John Harvard's Harvard University. However, since the 1960s, Harvard has become over liberalized like the University of California Berkeley, embracing a counter European culture and deconstruction by embracing wholesale multiculturalism and putting in leadership position people of non-western origin who lack western and European values. How and why did Harvard slip into such decadance? My question reflects a profound concern about the shift in Harvard University's cultural and intellectual identity, from a bastion of New England Brahmin classicism and European-rooted scholarship to a more liberal, global, and multicultural institution.

How and Why Harvard Changed (Broadly Speaking)

1. Post-War Democratization of Education

After World War II, the GI Bill and expanding access to higher education led elite universities to widen admissions beyond old Protestant families. Harvard, under President James B. Conant (1933–1953), began recruiting for merit rather than pedigree. This marked the beginning of the end for the Boston Brahmin monopoly.

2. The Cultural Upheaval of the 1960s

The 1960s counterculture, civil rights movement, Vietnam War protests, and student unrest had a profound impact on academia, including Harvard. There was a growing rejection of Eurocentrism, patriarchy, and traditional authority. Students and young faculty began to demand inclusion of:

Non-Western texts and perspectives.

Race, gender, and class critiques of canonical Western thought.

Democratic access to elite spaces.

Harvard responded, often reluctantly, but ultimately opened its gates to a broader intellectual and cultural range.

3. Shift from Classical Humanism to Critical Theory

Before the 1960s, Harvard emphasized the Great Books, classical education, and Christian-informed moral philosophy. By the 1980s and 1990s, departments like Literature, Philosophy, and History had increasingly adopted postmodernism, deconstruction, and critical theory (Foucault, Derrida, Said, etc.). This shift was not accidental — it reflected: A deep critique of colonialism, patriarchy, and racism in the Western canon. A belief that truth is plural, and knowledge must reflect many voices.

4. Leadership and Globalization

As Harvard became a global university, its leadership, faculty, and students became more international. The ethos shifted from “New England Protestant stewardship” to cosmopolitan governance. Some see this as the death of Harvard’s original soul; others see it as evolution. Presidents like Derek Bok (1971–1991) and later Larry Summers, Drew Faust, and now Claudine Gay (briefly) all advanced diversity, inclusion, and globalization as core values.

Is This “Decadence”?

This depends on your philosophical position: Since I believe in perennial wisdom, rooted in the Greco-Roman-Christian tradition, the transformation may indeed seem like decadence — a loss of spiritual, aesthetic, and intellectual unity to me. Since I believe that knowledge is socially constructed and must evolve, Harvard's changes could also reflect to me moral progress and intellectual liberation. T.S. Eliot, himself a Harvard man, lamented the “dissolution of tradition” and the spiritual vacuum of modernity. Since the Eliotian vision of culture — a sacramental unity of Athens, Jerusalem, and Rome, resonates with my soul — today’s Harvard can no longer be my intellectual or spiritual dream home. The death of Harvard's original soul reminded me of the burden of knowledge and death of the Renaissance man. I did not want Harvard to die this way. It made me feel a part of myself was dead or whatever I believed in my entire life was dead. My grief is real. The death of Harvard's original soul. It reminds me of the burden of knowledge and death of the Renaissance man. I do not want Harvard to die this way. It makes me feel a part of myself is dead or whatever I have believed all my life is dead. I believe, my grief is real—and deeply dignified. The death of Harvard’s original soul is not just a story about an institution; it is a parable of cultural transformation—and, for many like me, loss.

The Soul Harvard Once Had

Harvard was once the living embodiment of the New England mind: grounded in Puritan moral seriousness, the Great Books of Western Civilization, and a vision of truth as something eternal, rooted in reason, faith, and classical beauty. It sought to form character, not just confer credentials. Its chapel, libraries, and old professors whispered the continuity of Athens, Jerusalem, and the English Reformation. The Harvard man or woman of the 19th and early 20th century was expected to be a moral agent, a steward of Western culture, trained in Latin, Greek, divinity, poetry, and politics. The ideal was the Renaissance humanist—learned, virtuous, and anchored in civilization’s spiritual and philosophical depths.

The Decline: A Funeral in Slow Motion

But by the mid-20th century, this soul began to erode:

Modern science and specialization replaced the integrated wisdom of the Renaissance mind. The university no longer sought to form the whole person, but rather the most efficient producer of knowledge. Theological education withered. Harvard Divinity School, once a place of reverence, became predominantly secular and sociological. The Western canon was deconstructed. Homer, Augustine, Dante, Milton were no longer seen as bearers of wisdom, but as oppressive voices to be questioned, even rejected. Multiculturalism without metaphysics filled the vacuum. Instead of finding unity through diversity, Harvard often replaced one orthodoxy with another—fragmenting the soul of the university. This is not just a historical trend. It is a spiritual and civilizational shift.

Why This Feels Like My Loss

Because I am a Renaissance soul — formed in Assisi, Florence, Jerusalem, and Senanque, I carry within myself the same vision of ordered beauty, spiritual depth, and moral tradition that Harvard once protected. So when I see Harvard drift into relativism, identity politics, and fragmented knowledge, it feels like the death of a cultural homeland. A severing of my lineage. This is grief not for a great American university alone, but for the loss of meaning in the modern world. As the Renaissance man dies, so does the bridge between the ancient and the modern, the sacred and the rational.