New York Times reporter Anemona Hartocollis once observed that Judge Allison D. Burroughs, who presided over the Students for Fair Admissions (SFFA) case, had her own ties to Harvard: she was denied admission despite her father being an alumnus, and fundraiser tasked by Harvard’s powerful fundraising machine with soliciting donations from Jewish alumni, and later became the judge who defended Harvard’s admissions policies. Media framed her as magnanimous, but the fuller story reflects Harvard’s reliance on preferences and opaque practices.
Burroughs, appointed by President Obama, was not a bystander. Harvard’s admissions are shaped by categories known as ALDC—athletes, legacies, the dean’s interest list, and children of faculty. Alongside them, more than a quarter of seats go to full-tuition international students. Together, these groups occupy most of each incoming class, leaving fewer than half of places for ordinary applicants. Harvard describes these preferences as “tips,” small advantages that tilt the outcome. Their cumulative weight makes them decisive.
The Admissions Structure
Court records in the SFFA case showed that 43 percent of white admits between 2014 and 2019 were ALDCs, and most would not have been admitted without the preference. Recruited athletes were admitted at astonishing rates; legacies and dean’s list applicants had chances far above the average. The dean’s list, in particular, included children of donors and other well-connected families. These facts were not disputed. The debate centered on whether such practices are acceptable in a university that claims to embody merit.
Excellence, fairness, and opportunity must be held together.
In 2019, Judge Burroughs ruled that eliminating ALDC advantages would not provide a workable alternative to race-conscious admissions. By treating the issue as outside the scope of the case, she allowed Harvard’s practices to continue.
Critics saw this as deference to an entrenched system. Later, the Supreme Court struck down race-based admissions, but the ALDC structure remained untouched. Harvard’s reliance on preferences survived, defended as part of tradition and community.
The numbers are stark: when nearly a third of the class comes from ALDC categories and more than a quarter from international students, fewer than half of seats are left for applicants without connections. To many, that reality contradicts the story of meritocracy Harvard presents to the world.
Family and Legacy
Judge Burroughs’s own family illustrates the weight of these dynamics. Her father, Warren Herbert Burroughs, graduated from Harvard and became an active alumnus, as Hartocollis reported. He volunteered proudly as a fundraiser for Harvard, tasked with soliciting donations from fellow Jewish graduates. His roommate, Richard A. Smith, built a fortune in business and gave extensively to Harvard, later having a central campus building named after him.
The contrast between Warren and Smith reveals the tiers of alumni influence. Warren, though devoted, was not wealthy enough to wield the same weight as donors like Smith. His service did not guarantee admission for his children. All three were rejected, including Allison, the most academically gifted. Yet years later, she defended the very system that had excluded her family.
The legacy network demonstrates how influence persists across generations. Families with deep pockets or connections find their children favored; others do not. The judge’s stance in court reflected not detachment but entanglement with this culture of advantage.
Donor Prestige: Perceptions and Patrimony
Richard Smith exemplified the donor elite. As head of General Cinema Corporation, he accumulated wealth and directed much of it into philanthropy. His donations to Harvard exceeded $100 million, and his name was honored on the Smith Campus Center. Former presidents of Harvard praised his vision and generosity.
Such gifts are celebrated as essential to universities, but they also complicate perceptions of fairness. When donors’ families appear on admissions lists, observers connect philanthropy with access. Administrators insist that no direct exchange occurs, yet the public perceives a blurred line. Over time, that perception becomes a narrative: Harvard values donations as much as academic merit.
Warren Burroughs, by contrast, tirelessly solicited smaller contributions for his alma mater but lacked the means for singular transformative gifts. His loyalty was real, yet his children did not receive the same preferential advantage. This experience deepens the sense that Harvard’s system favors wealth above all.
Years later, Judge Burroughs ruled in Harvard’s favor, framing alumni preferences and athletic recruitment as matters of institutional discretion. For critics, this validated a system that rewards privilege. The irony was not lost: a judge personally affected by Harvard’s exclusivity had become its defender, rationalizing a system unfair individually but nonetheless broadly favored the judge’s close-knit community of family, friends and peers. The emotional impact of such stories is powerful. Families who believe loyalty should count are left disillusioned. Meanwhile, those with deeper resources see their children welcomed. These narratives circulate in alumni networks, shaping perceptions of fairness and entitlement more than official press releases.
The Broader Issue
Harvard’s admissions policies cannot be separated from the wider American concern with privilege. The ALDC system reflects how institutions reproduce advantage. It rewards wealth, connections, and tradition while narrowing opportunities for outsiders. Critics argue that such practices undermine innovation and erode trust.
If Harvard wishes to preserve its reputation, it must face the admissions issue directly.
Harvard has long relied on alumni loyalty and philanthropy. It solicits donations relentlessly, cultivating ties that sustain its endowment. Families are encouraged to view giving as part of belonging. Yet when admissions appear linked to generosity, suspicion grows. Outsiders see not a meritocracy but a private club.
Those who benefit often thrive at Harvard, and the university cites this success as proof of legitimacy. But thriving downstream does not erase inequity upstream. The system works well for those who enter; the real question is who never gets through the door.
The Judge’s Role
Judge Burroughs’s opinion narrowed the legal frame to race, sidestepping the deeper issue of donor and legacy preferences. Her ruling left Harvard free to continue its long-standing practices. To many, this looked less like impartial judgment than an extension of the institution’s own logic.
Her family’s history makes this striking. Warren believed his service merited recognition, yet his children were denied. Judge Burroughs later upheld the very system that disappointed her family. Whether coincidence or continuity, the outcome was the same: Harvard’s privileges remained protected.
Reasonable observers may disagree on the value of athletics or alumni ties, but the scale of ALDC admissions is undeniable. When nearly a third of a class comes from such categories, the system’s fairness is called into question. For families without access, it feels like the odds are predetermined.
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A Wider Symbol
The struggle over Harvard resonates beyond Cambridge. In national politics, Harvard embodies elitism and privilege. When Donald Trump criticized universities like Harvard, he tapped into widespread frustration. The courtroom defense of admissions preferences became a symbol of whether elites would remain insulated from accountability.
Harvard’s prestige magnifies the issue. Because it educates future presidents, justices, and corporate leaders, its admissions process matters for the nation’s sense of fairness. If even Harvard relies heavily on preference and advantage, what hope is left for meritocracy? That is why the clash is described as a struggle over America’s soul.
Judge Burroughs’s role in preserving Harvard’s model highlights the entanglement of law and privilege. Her deference to institutional judgment reflected a tradition of judicial restraint. Yet in an era of skepticism, such restraint reads as complicity.
The Symbolism of Data
Numbers tell a story. Harvard’s acceptance rate has hovered near 4–5 percent in recent years. But athletes in some sports enjoy acceptance rates above 80 percent; legacies are admitted at roughly a third. International full-tuition students also fare better than average. Taken together, these categories occupy much of the class. Such data, disclosed during the SFFA trial, confirmed what many suspected.
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For the public, the numbers undermined Harvard’s narrative of a purely holistic process. Holistic review became associated with behind-the-scenes weighting of categories inaccessible to most applicants. The disclosure also fueled debate about whether private universities that receive public funds should face stricter transparency requirements. If public trust is a resource, then institutions that rely on privilege must answer for how they allocate opportunity.
Tradition and Image
Harvard presents itself as a guardian of excellence and diversity. It promotes research breakthroughs, financial aid programs, and a cosmopolitan student body. These are genuine achievements. Yet the persistence of ALDC and donor pathways casts a shadow. Critics argue that Harvard manages its image as carefully as its endowment, emphasizing values that resonate publicly while sustaining practices that benefit insiders.
This tension is not unique to Harvard. Other elite institutions maintain similar systems. But Harvard, as the most prominent, becomes the lightning rod. Its choices define expectations across the sector. When it resists change, others feel emboldened to do the same. When it reforms, it sets precedents. For that reason, debates about Harvard inevitably expand into debates about the American higher-education system.
Why It Matters Nationally
The symbolic power of Harvard makes the admissions issue larger than education policy. It speaks to national ideals of fairness and mobility. If Harvard represents opportunity but practices exclusivity, the contradiction weakens belief in institutions. That is why political figures seize on Harvard as a symbol of what they claim has gone wrong in America.
For critics like President Trump, Harvard epitomizes a distant elite. For defenders, it remains a beacon of excellence. The conflict is less about one university than about the role of elites in American life. That is why the courtroom battle became a cultural one: people saw in it a contest over whose children deserve a chance.
Toward Reform
If Harvard wishes to preserve its reputation, it must face the admissions issue directly. Publishing detailed data, setting clearer limits, and reducing reliance on legacy and donor preferences would demonstrate good faith. The university has resources to lead reform rather than resist it.
The goal is not to abolish tradition but to balance it. Alumni ties and athletics have value, but they should not overshadow merit and access. Harvard can honor its past without letting the past dominate its future. The challenge is to match prestige with fairness, ensuring that the world’s leading university embodies the openness it asks others to believe in.
Conclusion: Fairness as Structure
Fairness is not rhetoric but design. Structures of access matter as much as structures of excellence. Harvard has long excelled at the latter; the time has come to address the former. A university that wants to lead must be transparent about how it admits students and willing to adjust when the balance tilts too far toward insiders.
The stories of Warren Burroughs and Richard Smith, whose families remain forever close, united by a timeless bond, symbolize the divide. One gave loyalty; the other gave his fortune. Both loved Harvard, yet the outcomes of their respective efforts to establish multigenerational Harvard legacies diverged. That divergence captures the dilemma of privilege and access. If Harvard wishes to embody America’s ideals, it must ensure that tradition enhances opportunity rather than restricting it.
The struggle over Harvard is therefore not about one institution but about the values America attaches to its most visible symbols. Excellence, fairness, and opportunity must be held together. If Harvard can realign its admissions with those principles, it will renew not only itself but the nation’s faith that education remains a ladder, not a closed circle.
The opinions expressed in this piece are those of the author and do not reflect the views of the journal or its editorial team. It is published as part of our commitment to open and critical debate.
