ack in the post-Civil War era, Ellen Swallow 
            yearned to get a graduate degree in chemistry from the Massachusetts 
            Institute of Technology, which did not admit women. She wangled her 
            way into classes by doing housework for her professors. "Perhaps the 
            fact that I am not a Radical," she optimistically wrote to her 
            parents, "and that I do not scorn womanly duties but claim it as a 
            privilege to clean up and sort of supervise the room and sew things 
            is winning me stronger allies than anything else." Faculty members, 
            it turned out, were happy to let her keep darning their socks but 
            not to give her an advanced degree. Eventually, thwarted in her 
            attempts to get a job in chemistry, she married a metallurgy 
            professor and invented home economics.
            Generations of women with a bent for science managed to get 
            college teaching jobs because Ellen Swallow Richards figured out a 
            way to connect their field to the analysis of cleaning products. It 
            was something, but not exactly ideal. Today - after another century 
            of discrimination and sexual harassment in the laboratory - female 
            scientists are getting an increasingly large percentage of all 
            undergraduate degrees and they get a little prickly if an extremely 
            powerful man raises the question of whether their field has an 
            inherent sexual divide.
            All of which, of course, takes us to Lawrence Summers and his 
            china-smashing remarks on gender and academia. Back in January, the 
            president of Harvard shared his thoughts on why so few women get 
            tenure at the best schools at a conference on "Diversifying the 
            Science and Engineering Workforce." His conclusion - couched in many 
            assurances that the jury was still out - was that female scientists 
            are distracted by the demands of family, and that "there are issues 
            of intrinsic aptitude."
            Dr. Summers told his audience that he wanted to be controversial, 
            and if that's so he must be extremely gratified by the results. 
            Several apologies and clarifications later, Harvard now has two 
            brand-new task forces on recruitment of women and a restive faculty 
            that seems to be teetering on the verge of revolt. Last week's 
            release of the long-sought transcript of his remarks is not likely 
            to improve things much. Dr. Summers compared the shortage of female 
            scientists at the highest ranks of academia to, among other things, 
            the shortage of Jewish farmers, and white men in the National 
            Basketball Association. (Coming soon: Female Biologists Can't 
            Jump.)
            Dr. Summers's defenders say he is being tarred for the very 
            intellectual openness that places like Harvard are supposed to 
            encourage. Even in the best of circumstances, it's questionable 
            whether the head of an institution that has a bad reputation when it 
            comes to promoting female scientists was the perfect person to 
            free-associate on why women have trouble getting tenure. However, 
            the transcript provides the best possible refutation of the charge 
            of political correctness. Whatever Dr. Summers was doing at the 
            conference, it had nothing to do with serious intellectual inquiry. 
            "I don't think anybody actually has a clue" was one operative 
            phrase. "I don't remember who had told me" was another. It was every 
            woman's nightmare of what a university president thinks privately 
            about equal opportunity. 
            We have been informed many, many times in the past that Dr. 
            Summers likes to make waves, and who could blame him? It's fun to 
            toss out provocative ideas and watch as everyone's ears redden and 
            all eyes turn to the daring speaker who started the hubbub. But it's 
            an exercise better restricted to radio talk show hosts than the 
            heads of major academic institutions. Harvard is supposed to be 
            teaching its students not just how to start a controversy, but also 
            how to have an intelligent conversation.