In an America where national unity seems a relic of a bygone era, the landscape of political and social life is marked by stark divisions. Democrats and Republicans are further apart ideologically than at any other time in the last fifty years. Trust has dwindled not only for elected officials but even the Supreme Court. The majority of Americans find cross-aisle debate stressful, and “divisive” is the word we most associate with politics. The immediate result is the formation of echo chambers where dissenting voices fall on deaf ears. The internet is even worse, where algorithms sort readers into ideological solos without their even knowing it.

What does this polarization mean for the counterculture? What does it mean to oppose the mainstream when the mainstream is at odds with itself, leaving no room for a middle ground? In this context, the counterculture is compelled to reimagine what it means to stand in opposition. Without a coherent whole, the traditional role of dissent—challenging a unified power—loses some of its clarity. Instead, opposing the mainstream now requires questioning the very binary framework that dictates how we understand political and social life.

Within this framework, without a clear center, every stance must align with one extreme or the other. This leaves little room for nuance, forcing those on the margins to deconstruct the language of division itself—a language that, to borrow from Foucault, was established by and for the preservation of power. The counterculture must reject the discourse that reduces complex realities to a series of zeros and ones, thus ignoring the subtlety and diversity of human experience. In the issues that plague society today, there seems to be less and less tolerance for anything but extremism; “it’s complicated” is no longer acceptable.

In such an environment of fragmentation and binary thinking, the role of journalism transforms from simply documenting events to actively challenging the very frameworks that shape our understanding. As the counterculture dismantles the language of division, the responsibility of college publications becomes both an act of inquiry and a quest for truth—they must navigate a terrain where every inhabitant is forced to pick a side.

This task demands an approach that is both reflective and bold—a commitment to uncovering the untold stories hidden within campus corridors and beyond. Here, journalism transcends the mere transmission of information. It becomes a form of resistance, a method of probing the unsettling questions that arise from a fractured public sphere, and a means to restore a measure of balance in a world overwhelmed by polarizing extremes, with steadfast, renewed determination.

– Jonah Karafiol ’26

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The Harvard Independent was founded in 1969 by students and alumni who felt the campus needed an alternative to the Harvard Crimson. At the time, the founders of the Independent felt politically alienated from other Harvard publications. In the decades since the Vietnam War, the Indy has been released every Thursday, becoming an alternative weekly rather than a standard newspaper.  

The Harvard Independent exists on this campus as a rejection of the idea that the news should belong to those who already have power. We are neither a mouthpiece nor a megaphone. We are not constrained by donors or dictated by a party line. We were founded in 1969 as an act of defiance , and we remain so—not because we are contrarian for the sake of it, but because we know that the truth, the kind worth writing, is rarely found where people are too comfortable to look. 

At the Indy, we believe in transparency, in curiosity, in the pursuit of the story that isn’t being told. We know that the best writing, the kind that lingers, does not come from a place of detachment  but from being in the room, listening closely, asking the taboo questions that make people uncomfortable . We question and critique viewpoints, perspectives, and beliefs. We take an understanding and flip it on its head.

We take our time to investigate, to think, to craft something that will hold up beyond the momentary flash of a headline. We believe that journalism should be an act of storytelling. We are chasing the angles that others miss, the undercurrents of campus life, the strange, the subversive, the stories that reveal.

We pitch pieces, we offer our perspective, and in doing so, we shape the discourse. That is why we exist, why we continue—there is always something left to say, and someone has to say it.

– Rania Jones ’27

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“I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see, and what it means.” As Joan Didion echoes in her bestselling memoir, Let Me Tell You What I Mean, I’ve discovered that spoken dialogue falls short to words committed on the page. Clipped sentences; twisted metaphors; broken stanzas—all convey more than my voice could ever hope to. Catharsis became inherent to my pen as late nights of staring at my ceiling reckoning with feelings of suffering, laughter, exasperation, or exaltation shifted to evenings with my Dad’s Waterman and a Moleskin on the floor of my bedroom, stringing letters together in messy cursive until my cacophony of thoughts hushed to a mere hum.

However, I never saw myself as much of a journalist even as I turned to storytelling as a key form of free expression to quell my emotions bubbling so raw at the surface. Instead, I was a creative writer who pursued fictitious stories of life and loss that paralleled the lines of my own existence—times of strength embodied through characters persevering, times of suffering painted through protagonists enduring. To be frank, I often saw tabloids as invasive as TMZ or the magazines lined by grocery store tills plastered facetious headlines that denigrate their subjects but nonetheless appeal to their prying readers. However, 12 Arrow Street slowly turned my previous perception of newspapers on its head. 

During my almost-four semesters as a member of the Independent, I’ve learned that our publication is distinct in every aspect. Born during a time of protest and polarization, the unique place of power and reflection that I found within the depths of my journals was also intrinsic to the Indy. We not only speak on presidential elections, geopolitical conflicts, or on-campus protests—issues that conventionally matter to the populace as covered by the New York Times or even the Harvard Crimson. However, we also offer what other newspapers cannot: the hearts of our writers as we embrace counterculture journalism to unearth often-buried topics. Suicide, substances, sex—nothing is taboo in our space. And from this authorial liberation and lack of censorship,  each weekly issue is emblematic of the distinct stories and passions of our staff that hopefully resonates with others who likewise believe in what we discuss.

I encourage anyone reading this to turn to our paper as either a viewer or a member. Because this belonging and devotion I and many others have found at the Indy is not limited to those who frequent 12 Arrow St. As our mission suggests, everyone is welcome in our space: “If we belong to no one, how can we tell anyone that they don’t belong with us?”

– Sara Kumar ’27

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With the intersection of the Independent and counterculture journalism, the mission of our publication is reinforced: we are a space that drives revolution in our ever-evolving coverage and voices critical perspectives through our writers.

I feel the importance of the Independent most when I witness a writer step out of their comfort zone, crafting a piece that takes bold risks and pushes beyond the limits they never realized they had imposed on themselves. I see the power of the Independent when a story about the hard work of a cultural organization, student production, faculty initiative, or administrative update is shared on our website and reaches the hands of students every Thursday morning. I hear the significance of the Independent through passing conversations sparked by our stories proliferating across campus. The relentless dedication our staff pours into creating, writing, editing, and publishing pieces inform not our student body and beyond. It is through this unwavering commitment to accuracy and transparency that we create a deeper connection with our readers, who rely on us to bring clarity and perspective to the issues that matter most. 

Our readers discuss the work in the Independent because it is interesting, but they stick around because it is true.

Freedom of the press is the foundation of a sustaining society—one that is informed, diverse, and whole. The Independent is committed to safeguarding knowledge and information, because nothing is more powerful than the ability to be informed. The Wellness Issue. The Controversy Issue. The Counterculture Issue—by challenging taboos and defying the status quo, the Independent maintains its position at Harvard as a true advocate for all people. At the Independent, we embrace our role as the counterculture because it is the very foundation upon which we were built. The activism at our core is what defines us and empowers us to instill the core journalistic principles that shape and guide our staff. We honor the integrity of our past, deliver the truths of today, and provide insights that shape the future through our commitment to storytelling. We stand firm in these values—fearlessly embracing the counterculture of our world—and will carry them forward, from our generation to the next. 

– Layla Chaaraoui ’26