Conant Reaffirms Value of Long-Range Research And Academic Freedom in Commencement Talk

This is the second Commencement meeting since the Korean War began, the second time I have had the opportunity of reporting to the alumni on the impact of partial mobilization on the University. As a year ago, we are still basing our plans on the assumption that the mobilization will be partial not total in the years ahead; in short, that this country will not be faced with a global war. Even so, the strains of this period of high international tension are felt within the University and present us with special problems of which I wish to speak very briefly here this afternoon. Before doing so, however, let me first report on a significant event in the development of Harvard College.

The Faculty duing the past year approved a new arrangement by which the Houses will be brought into even closer relation to our educational program. Each House will have a Senior Tutor who will take over many of the functions formerly performed by the Assistant Deans of Harvard College; he will likewise be concerned with seeing that the students in his House have as satisfactory an educational program as is possible. This is an important step forward in the development of the House plan; the Master, Senior Tutor, and staff of each House will now more than ever before endeavor to make of their House "a university bound in lesser volume."

It is twenty years since the last group of the seven Houses was opened and President Lowell's plan for Harvard College was complete at least in outline. It is nearly forty-five years since he took the first step by introducing what has come to be known as concentration and distribution. His pattern remains essentially unaltered to this day. Emphasis on a field of concentration continues; for distribution the Faculty has substituted a program in general education--a program now in full swing with the entire support of the Faculty and student body. With the appointment of the Senior Tutors--the Allston Burr Senior Tutors they will be called in honor of the memory of Allston Burr--with the appointment of these gentlemen, an effective integration of the Houses and our educational program will be possible. The whole concept of "collegiate living" as a way of providing a liberal education now emerges clearly as the master design of undergraduate education in Harvard College.

War and Peace

So much for my report on Harvard College. Now if I may I shall revert to the special problems of this period in which the world is poised between war and peace. It is more important than ever for the American people to think clearly about the nature of our educational institutions at every level and to clarify the special role of each type of school, college, and university. I shall confine my remarks to those universities which like Harvard are composed of an undergraduate college in charge of a scholarly faculty and a group of professional schools.

Mr. Lowell used to say that the surest way to ruin a university was to fill the Faculty with good men. He meant, of course, good rather than excellent scholars and teachers. With his remark in mind I have considered it the first duty of the President of Harvard to be concerned with the quality of the permanent staff throughout the University. By one method or another we endeavor to make each permanent appointment the best possible appointment.

But why any permanent appointments, some of you may ask? Why do you have a statute of the University that makes appointees without limit of time removable only for grave misconduct or neglect of duty? Why can't professors be fired like employees of a business concern?

Conformity

That these questions are not entirely hypothetical those who read the papers hardly need be reminded. One of the effects of this period of prolonged crisis is the increased sensitivity of the public car to what academic men say and do. The old, old issue of conformity and heterodoxy that has been indigenous in universities for a thousand years comes to the surface in a new guise. This or that professor takes a position or writes a book that offends some group; why is he not censured by the governing boards or removed from office?

To all those who ask this question, and I am glad to say that there are really very few among Harvard College alumni who do seriously raise the issue, the answer is quite simple. A university is by its very nature an institution where the really important members cannot be fired. This tradition is more ancient than the present form of government of any nation and it has been proved over and over again in history that when this tradition is jeopardized, the life of a university is destroyed. Presidents, Deans administrative officers are removable by the Governing Boards, but not professors. The parallel with Government is close. The acts of mayors, governors, the President of the United States are subject to review frequently by the electorate, these executives are removable. But not the Federal judges, not the members of the judiciary in most states; judges are not subject to recall for their decisions. Why? Because we are all convinced you cannot have justice administered under pressure, under social duress, under fear. The same is true of scholarly investigation, of collegiate and professional teaching. Life tenure for the older men, freedom for the staff to speak as citizens, as well as freedom to investigate and teach are the essence of a university. The greatest single source of strength of this University, I believe, is the fact that the nature of a professor's calling is so well understood by a vast majority of Harvard men.

To obtain the services of excellent men in a university is never easy. The material rewards of an academic career have never been dazzling, to put it mildly. But professorships, like places on the Bench, have been valued highly by men of distinction. And one of the reasons has been the freedom conferred on the individual by the university community. Another has been the feeling that scholars are concerned with long-range problems, with a relatively leisurely exploration of basic issues, and with penetrating insights into the nature and destiny of man and the structure of the universe. The opportunity to arrive at unhurried answers to deep questions is one of the perquisites of an academic life. The fruits of such opportunities have been the universities' enduring contributions to civilization.

Elephantiasis

Now one of the serious consequences of the pressures of this period of rearmament is the diversion of scholars to immediate problems. Partial mobilization has accentuated the trend toward overemphasis on the practical which is a consequence of the type of society in which we live. For example, in the biological sciences the clamor is for a cure for cancer rather then an understanding of the processes of growth normal and abnormal. In the physical sciences some of our best men are now spending long hours on military problems. This is a national necessity, but a loss to the advance of science. Technology and medicine have made enormous progress in the last few decades but as a consequence there has been a heavy emphasis on applied science. Indeed, some harassed college presidents might be inclined to complain that the natural sciences were suffering from elephantiasis larger and larger telescopes, more and more powerful cyclotrons, bigger and bigger budgets. Yet this is a period of brilliant advance in some fields of basic science. The emphasis on the practical is not confined to the physical and biological sciences. Vast projects in the social sciences are underway and in contemplation; all of which within limits, represents a healthy expansion of activities. But I for one cannot help wondering: Is there not a danger that so much activity directed to answering this year's questions may prevent the germination of the truly revolutionary new ideas?

That the universities are today serving the country extraordinarily well I have no doubt. It is amazing in how many ways learned men can be useful in times of national emergency. Our professional faculties are assisting in the solution of pressing problems and are educating their students in no ivory towers. But are the universities in the United States contributing sufficiently to the accumulative intellectual and spiritual wealth of the nation, the growth of which is the only true measure of the civilization of any age? How many of our faculty, for example, are now developing new ideas or refashioning our cultural heritage so that the product of their life's work, in the words of John Milton, is "something so written to aftertimes, as they should not willingly let it die."

Proper Balance

I raise these doubts this afternoon, gentlemen, in order to solicit your support in holding the balance even between the practical and immediate on the one hand and the fundamental and enduring on the other. For it is from ardent friends of the university that many of the demands arise that seem to me to threaten the long-term contributions of the Harvard company of scholars. We need have no fear that in these days we shall be too little concerned with the urgent problems of the moment. The pressures are all in one direction. There force, when the alumni meet here on Commencement afternoon. I hope they will not neglect to give a silent cheer for those scholars whose work will be remembered a century hence even if it may have little relevance for these grim and trying days. In short the some of Harvard might do well each year at the time of "these festival rites" to rededicate this University to the spiritual needs of the Age that is waiting before.