When the Past Haunts the Present: Harvard’s Troubling Slavery Ties and the Researcher Who Exposed Them
For centuries, Harvard University has stood as a symbol of academic excellence and progressive thought. But beneath its storied legacy lies a darker history—one entangled with the institution’s financial and social reliance on slavery. In 2016, Harvard took a step toward confronting this past by commissioning a researcher to investigate its historical ties to enslaved people. What followed was a saga of uncomfortable truths, professional fallout, and a lingering question: How far are elite institutions willing to go to reckon with their own complicities?
The Unsettling Discovery
The project began with good intentions. Harvard’s then-president, Drew Gilpin Faust, publicly acknowledged the university’s need to confront its connections to slavery, calling it a “vital and necessary” endeavor. The task fell to historian and researcher Leland B. Saito, who spent years combing through archives, financial records, and personal correspondences. What he uncovered was staggering.
Harvard, founded in 1636, benefited directly and indirectly from slavery for over two centuries. Enslaved individuals labored on campus, maintained the households of Harvard presidents and professors, and generated wealth for donors whose contributions funded scholarships, buildings, and endowments. Saito’s research revealed that at least 70 enslaved people were linked to Harvard’s early leaders, and the institution continued to accept donations from slaveholders well into the 19th century.
“We found too many slaves,” Saito later remarked in interviews. The sheer scale of Harvard’s entanglement shocked even those who supported the initiative. But what happened next shocked the academic community even more.
A Researcher’s Fall from Grace
In 2020, after years of meticulous work, Saito submitted his findings to Harvard’s administration. Instead of gratitude, he claims he faced resistance. According to Saito, university officials pressured him to downplay certain aspects of his research, particularly details implicating revered figures in Harvard’s history. When he refused, his contract was not renewed.
Harvard denied allegations of censorship, stating that Saito’s appointment had always been temporary. Yet critics argue the timing was suspicious. “It’s convenient to silence someone once they’ve done the hard work of unearthing uncomfortable truths,” says Dr. Evelyn Brooks, a historian specializing in race and education. “This isn’t just about Harvard—it’s about how institutions protect their myths.”
Saito’s experience raises troubling questions. If elite universities champion transparency and social justice, why does accountability falter when their own histories are scrutinized? And what does this mean for researchers who dare to challenge institutional narratives?
The Broader Pattern of Institutional Reluctance
Harvard is far from alone in grappling with its ties to slavery. Universities like Georgetown, Brown, and Columbia have launched similar investigations, often leading to public apologies, memorials, or reparations programs. Yet these efforts frequently face pushback.
At Georgetown, for example, a 2019 proposal to offer scholarships to descendants of enslaved people sold by the university in 1838 sparked heated debates about “financial feasibility” and “historical responsibility.” At Yale, a 2022 study on its ties to slavery was criticized for omitting the extent to which enslaved people built campus landmarks.
The common thread? Institutions often struggle to balance ethical reckoning with reputational risk. Acknowledging historical harms can lead to demands for reparations, legal challenges, or donor backlash—all of which universities fear.
Why This Matters Beyond Academia
The stakes extend far beyond campus gates. Harvard’s story reflects a national tension between confronting historical injustices and preserving systems of power. For descendants of enslaved people, these revelations are deeply personal. “My ancestors’ labor built institutions that excluded people like them for generations,” says Karen Johnson, a descendant of an enslaved man linked to Harvard. “Silencing researchers like Dr. Saito feels like another betrayal.”
Moreover, universities shape public narratives. When they whitewash history, they reinforce a culture of avoidance. Students, alumni, and the broader public are left with incomplete stories, hindering progress toward racial equity.
The Path Forward: Accountability or Amnesia?
In response to mounting criticism, Harvard announced plans in 2022 to allocate $100 million for initiatives addressing its legacy of slavery, including scholarships for descendants and partnerships with historically Black colleges. Yet skeptics argue that financial commitments alone aren’t enough.
“Money can’t erase harm, but transparency can build trust,” says Dr. Marcus Thompson, a scholar of reparations. “Universities must empower researchers, not sideline them, and center marginalized voices in these conversations.”
For Saito, the fight continues. Though no longer affiliated with Harvard, he advocates for academic freedom and institutional accountability. “History isn’t a relic—it lives in the present,” he says. “If we ignore it, we repeat it.”
Conclusion
Harvard’s attempt to confront its past has become a cautionary tale. The university’s treatment of Leland Saito exposes a paradox: institutions that pride themselves on intellectual rigor often falter when their own foundations are questioned.
As debates over historical justice intensify, one truth remains clear: reckoning with the past requires courage, not just committees. For Harvard and universities like it, the choice is stark—embrace uncomfortable truths or risk becoming relics of a mythologized past. For the rest of us, the lesson is universal: progress begins when we stop hiding from history.
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