In recent decades, Holy Cross has undergone a dramatic transformation from a small, Catholic men’s college to the nationally-recognized liberal arts institution it is today. Like any organization grappling with its identity amid a changing society, this process at Holy Cross has had its fair share of successes and failures. Tensions over to what extent the college’s new, pluralistic identity can coexist with its religious heritage are still ongoing, and are unlikely to be resolved any time soon. But as Holy Cross’ Catholic, Jesuit character increasingly falls by the wayside, it is worth examining what the College’s traditional ethos is being replaced with. As many students and alumni know, social justice issues are a central focus of the College today. But the administration’s initiatives in these areas reveal an institution defined more by virtue signaling than substantive action.
Take, for instance, the administration’s commitment to racial justice. The College’s Anti-Racism Action Plan, adopted in June 2020, outline the administration’s initiatives to transform Holy Cross into an “actively anti-racist institution.” The plan, then-President Boroughs wrote, is a “starting point” for “overcom[ing] the sin of racism, whether it be interpersonal or structural,” at Holy Cross. That the administration apparently believes Holy Cross to be an institution infected by structural racism is curious in itself. Of the three highest-profile members of the College’s executive team — President Vincent Rougeau, Provost Margaret Freije, and Vice President for Student Affairs Michele Murray — no less than two are black. Would this be possible at a structurally racist institution?
Nonetheless, this is the premise the College is working with. To be sure, racism is a serious issue — and indeed a sin — that should be taken seriously by any organization, and especially mission-driven institutions like Holy Cross. And although there are serious issues with the contemporary “anti-racist” movement, ideas for making Holy Cross a more diverse and welcoming community are certainly worth pursuing. So, even if the impetus for Holy Cross’ recent anti-racism efforts — the College’s supposed structural racism — is questionable, at least some positive impacts will come of it, right?
Not exactly. The College’s Anti-Racism Action Plan is many things, but “substantive” is not one of them. Its forty goals are mostly vague, cosmetic, myopic, or trivial — or some combination of the four. Workshops, seminars, reflection series, and ad-hoc committees abound, including sessions on “Becoming a White Ally for Racial Justice,” and a “Listen and Learn” book club. Other initiatives seem potentially problematic (such as a proposed reporting website for “microaggressions” on campus), or appear not to have been implemented (such as a planned “Anti-Racism Capacity Building Fund” for student organizations).
A major pillar of the plan calls for “recruit[ing] diverse communities — students, faculty, and staff — to our campus.” But, as I noted in a previous article, the Holy Cross student body is already 26 percent nonwhite — higher than Massachusetts statewide (22 percent). Meanwhile, 36 percent of the College’s tenure-track faculty hires in the five years prior to the adoption of the anti-racism plan were people of color, already higher than the nonwhite proportion of recent doctoral graduates (33 percent). Evidently, Holy Cross doesn’t need an “Anti-Racism Action Plan” to recruit diverse talent.
The College’s fervor for racial justice appears even more empty when considering the administration’s actions, in recent years, to backtrack on true efforts to provide opportunities for minority students. Most notably, Holy Cross in 2019 quietly abandoned its need-blind admissions policy, which had been in place for decades. Need-blind admissions, in which an applicant’s need for financial aid is not considered in admissions decisions, help equalize the college admissions process and give students from disadvantaged backgrounds a greater chance when applying to a selective institution like Holy Cross. Importantly, need-blind admissions disproportionately benefit students of color, and colleges with this policy experience measurable gains in student diversity.
Of course, need-blind admissions are not financially feasible for most colleges and universities in the United States. Indeed, Holy Cross gave this reason when they ended the policy two years ago, citing the burden of $67 million in annual financial aid costs. Nonetheless, with a $760 million endowment, and $420 million raised by the recent “Become More” capital campaign, it is hard not to feel that the College could devote more resources to financial aid if it wished to, especially given its willingness to spend, for instance, an exorbitant $107 million on a new performing arts center. It’s just a matter of priorities.
What good are “anti-racism action plans” and Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) workshops when the administration has taken concrete steps to make Holy Cross less accessible to minority students? Adding insult to injury is the fact that even as Holy Cross claims it cannot afford the cost of need-blind admissions, the size of its DEI bureaucracy — and the associated costs — have multiplied. The Anti-Racism Action Plan announced the hiring of at least seven new administrators — three in the Office of Multicultural Education and four in the Office of Title IX and Equal Opportunity. This is in addition to the preexisting Office of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion.
The duties of these staff include hosting student events like Gathered, a “self-care workshop” where students can “reclaim their space and energy,” and Spectrum, advertised as a “celebratory space that centers queer, trans, non-binary, and gender non-conforming BIPOC [black, indigenous, and people of color] experiences.” One cannot help but feel that the salaries of the staff leading events like this could be better put to use by the College elsewhere. My own suggestion would be to combine these offices into one, cut the staff by two-thirds, and redirect the surplus funding to something that would actually benefit students— such as a scholarship fund for students of minority or disadvantaged backgrounds.
Holy Cross’ unwillingness to back up its professed commitments with substantive action is not limited to “anti-racism.” The College, for instance, proclaims that “at Holy Cross, sustainability isn’t a buzzword” — yet it continues to invest in fossil fuels, and rejected calls in 2016 to divest from dirty energy. And, in the midst of a significant dining services staff shortage, Holy Cross has left students to continue facing limited food options and shortened hours rather than raising wages to attract workers. As the College’s assistant director of employment, Margaret Rollo, noted in a recent Spire interview, “We currently don’t have wages or a salary that is competitive. That’s up to the College to make those decisions.” With its ample financial resources, surely Holy Cross could offer dignified wages to its dining staff if it wished to. Again, priorities.
Why is Holy Cross’ commitment to “social justice” reflected in its rhetoric, but not its actions? The answer is simple. It is much easier to be “virtuous” in ways that require little concrete sacrifice on the part of the College and its administrators. It is easier to hang rainbow flags, host “allyship” workshops, and install composting bins than it is to take on the financial and institutional costs necessary for the College to pursue real action on the causes it advocates for. To be sure, Holy Cross’ professed commitments to racial justice, environmental sustainability, and other causes are admirable — at least in theory. But virtue signaling is not virtue, and language without action is empty.