Wonders indeed. The reaction to Radcliffe's recent Harvard-assisted suicide has been mixed - trepidation, utter indifference, Neil Rudenstine's beaming smiles. There is, though, an overarching sense of anxious optimism, a sense of mystery. What will Radcliffe become? What exactly will it do? And what will it mean for Harvard and for the future generations of young women who pass through its gates? 

The cheery Mary Maples Dunn, who will serve as interim Dean of the Institute, has this to say: "I think the Radcliffe Institute will provide for women a greater presence at Harvard which, it seems to me, will benefit undergraduates in the long run. There should also be more opportunities to engage with women scholars, professionals, artists - I hope for more research partnerships, for example, and lots of good programming of interest to women and others in the community." 
This is a practical explanation of the "continuing commitment to the study of women, gender, and society" which administrators are using to define the new Institute. If we sift through Dunn's words and through what has surfaced in the media these past few weeks, however, the distorting haze surrounding the Institute's position is brought sharply into focus. Put simply, the Institute is little more than extra froth on Harvard's brew, and its millions in allotted funds would be better spent elsewhere. 

The Institute for Advanced Study will be modeled after the Princeton organ of the same name, with two major differences: Radcliffe will have no faculty, and its focus will be, of course, women, gender, and society. Academics from around the nation and the globe will - it is hoped - view the Institute as a Mecca for the examination of these subjects. 

Dunn elaborates on the need for this feminist Mecca: "I am an historian, so I tend to think in historical terms, and can say confidently that the role of women in society is an avenue of historical analysis which has much, much more to give us by way of understanding where we are and how we got here." 

It is this quest for "understanding" which is the linchpin of Radcliffe's continued existence. The concerns of undergraduates - i.e., student groups, scholarships, mentoring - can easily be addressed by Harvard College without the Radcliffe umbrella. Harvard is now a fully co-ed institution, after all. The basic needs of all its students should be met within the same framework, so discussions of these issue in connection with Radcliffe's latest incarnation are beside the point. Radcliffe's mission - if it is to be an Institute for Advanced Study - is to further genuine and meaningful scholarship. Dunn's assertion that there is "much, much more" to discover about women in history raises serious doubts that this mission will be accomplished. 

Feminist history will feature prominently at the Institute. Researchers will come to explore subjects which have traditionally been neglected by scholars. Their work will be conducted in a spirit similar, perhaps, to that of Barbara Haber, a curator at the Schlesinger Library who is devoting her time and energy to making the history of cooking and eating an academically respectable subject - "an area of serious scholarly inquiry," as the April 8 issue of Radcliffe News put it. A popular aim of feminist historians is to reconstruct history along new lines - to raise up the activities and accomplishments of women, however commonplace, to the level of grand historical significance. They see history as we know it as essentially a masculine construction, and they dutifully go searching under every rock, behind every tree, in every cupboard to find new and exciting headings to add to their ever-growing compendium of important historical foci. 

While there is nothing wrong with culinary history per se - to stick with the previous example -  it is laughable that such a subject is treated by academics as "an area of serious scholarly inquiry." Nobody refutes that women were long denied positions of real political, social, and economic power or that those few women who did hold sway were often unduly overlooked by historians. But to confer the same kind of academic attention upon women's historical experiences as cooks and homemakers that we do upon significant events and men who immediately and directly influenced the course of history is to engage in serious intellectual dishonesty. 

And doing so also degrades the very advancements women have made during the last century. Christina Hoff Sommers, author of the compelling Who Stole Feminism: How Women Betrayed Women, complains about this sad trend among feminist "herstorians": "Why should we women be playing an undignified game of one-upmanship that we are bound to lose? What motivates the revisionist efforts to rewrite History ... in a manner calculated to give to women victories and triumphs they never had the opportunity to win? We now have these opportunities. Why can't we move on to the future and stop wasting energy on resenting (and rewriting) the past?" 

Sommers's analysis of the situation speaks to the heart of what's wrong with the entire premise of the Radcliffe Institute. Any organ devoted to the study of women and gender is bound by nature to be academically unproductive and intellectually suspect. Unlike true scholarly pursuits - history, philosophy, natural and physical sciences, and so on - Women's Studies is, as Sommers puts it, "consciously an arm of the women's movement, dedicated to a utopian ideal of social transformation." Women's Studies is, at its core, an ideology. It is not a legitimate academic discipline. It is often anti-intellectual - feminist academics often deny the need for reasoned argument, encourage rash emotionalism, and view their pedagogical mission as transformative and political rather than educational - and it is based on false notions like historical constructionism. Women's Studies may be an established and respected "discipline" at our own and most other universities, but a genuine examination of it and a true understanding of what the goal of higher education should be informs us of its illegitimacy. 

There is a more practical argument against the Radcliffe Institute. Most feminist academics are not radical and entirely unreasonable people. But it is inevitable that the Institute will attract that rare breed of woman who obsesses over sexuality, who charges quixotically at the windmills of the patriarchy, who spends her time twisting her own and her students' heads away from any and all common sense. Does Harvard really need more delusional feminists? Does it need to institutionalize this kind of silliness? Are there no better enterprises at which to throw $150 million? Why not use the money to lighten tutition burdens? There are many more productive ways to benefit Harvard women than to prop up an institution which will, quite frankly, make no worthwhile contributions to our lives. 

The Institute for Advanced Study is the culmination of a very long process by which a proud women's college - to offset her fading glory in an era when she was no longer needed - evolved into a well-endowed fortress of academic feminism. It's quite a disappointment, really. It would have been better, for her sake as well as ours, if Radcliffe had quietly bid adieu and consigned herself to the annals of history. 

Watching our lady fall to the tiger was not so wonderful after all, for her reincarnation is far from glorious. The Radcliffe Institute promises little in the way of greatness. Those of us who paid to see a good show in the arena, however, should not be dismayed. A day may come when Harvard grows weary of the unproductive, unwieldy institution it helped create, and the ferocious tiger will be out again.