Crimson staff writer
Akila V. Muthukumar
Fifteen Questions: Diana Eck on Interfaith Dialogue, Lowell’s Russian Bells, and Her Favorite Poetry
The Comparative Religion professor sat down to discuss religious pluralism in the United States as well as on Harvard’s campus. “It is not the godless Harvard that people used to speak of, in the old days,” she says.
On Tuesday, Sept. 20, Harvard Medical School hosted its annual Precision Medicine Symposium, which focused on the ethical development and deployment of genetic screening to predict people’s risk of developing various diseases.
Many researchers are trying to develop an entirely different type of vaccine — a universal one. A pan-coronavirus vaccine would protect against strains of Covid-19, a future strain of SARS-CoV-3, or even a new coronavirus that might not yet have jumped from animals to humans.
But the opioid overdose crisis is of course a public health problem — as well as a medical, urban planning, and legal problem. That multidimensional epidemic has only been exacerbated by the Covid-19 pandemic, and responding to it will require the concentrated efforts of every segment of society. Harvard is no exception.
As BGLTQ students returned home during the pandemic, they confronted environments hostile to their identities — while also reflecting on how Harvard fell short, both on campus and off.
A team of researchers developed personalized neoantigen vaccines for cancer patients. This January, they revealed astounding new results that may have far-reaching implications for the future of quick-acting and long-lasting cancer treatment.
While many view Harvard graduate students as members of the privileged elite, studying in Cambridge often requires students to endure precarious material conditions. A backdrop of high rent, low pay, and expensive groceries becomes acutely visible in their daily struggles to find their next meal.
My salangai, red anklets with three rows of bells, chimed through our apartment as I danced Bharatanatyam, anIndian classical dance. Nearly every day for the past 16 years, I practiced rhythmic tattu mettus until my feet became calloused and our downstairs neighbors filed a complaint about the “incessant basketball thumping.”