Harvard and the Nation
Sequoia seeds worth the will to believe
One year ago, during a time of great conflict between the Trump Administration and Harvard, I wrote this graduation speech. It’s a concise statement of some of my most sincere beliefs about the dream of democracy.
My favorite gate into Harvard Yard is Dexter Gate. As you walk in, it says, “Enter to grow in wisdom.” But now, as we leave fair Harvard to commence the rest of our lives (hopefully a little wiser), it’s time to think about the other inscription: “Depart to serve better thy country and thy kind.” What exactly is the relationship between Harvard and the nation?
This nation, the United States of America, is sort of like Harvard’s younger sibling. After all, we’re 150 years older; Harvard was crucial in America’s revolutionary founding, its refounding in civil war, and its crowning service in the first fight against fascism. The relationship is reciprocal ― Harvard has grown and flourished thanks in part to American prosperity and taxpayers, American stability and rule of law, American labor and genius, American stories and dreams. But, there is no such thing as “rights” without “responsibilities.”
Recent events force us to recognize that the nation as a nation still matters; history is not over, and we must wake up to the struggle for the soul of the nation. I do not fear whether America is “great” — it is. What I care about is whether America will be good. No one can sit out this fight. We’re entangled with the consequences whether we like it or not.
Thus, Harvard must cultivate citizens worthy of responsibility to the Republic. If institutions collapse, all we truly have is our values, the books we’ve read, the friends we’ve made; only these bring institutions to life. We Americans firstly need certain qualities of character: openness, non-conformity, self-reliance, empathy, courage — and forgiveness. Don’t forget forgiveness, which takes courage and more.
Second, we must resist the attitude of pathological negativity that’s taken root in our culture. Of course, critiquing America’s awful failures is still necessary; as James Baldwin said, “not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” However, critique is only useful as a spur to transformation. The notion of sin is useless without a notion of redemption. To wallow in spectatorial irony is to give up on being an agent, to give in to a fatal nihilism. For James Baldwin also said that “American history is longer, larger, more various, more beautiful, and more terrible than anything anyone has ever said about it.” We must face the terrible, but we face the terrible for the sake of the various and beautiful.
Lastly, we need the will to believe in something. I must now confess my own sincere beliefs: I believe in liberty and democracy. I believe freedom grows through interconnection, and I believe, like Harvard’s own Danielle Allen, that we can best pursue justice by means of democracy. Despite all our failures, these core sequoia seeds are worth fighting for.
The Dream of Democracy: the world as one, mutually-empowering family, of evermore free individuals ― evermore creative, connected, curious, various, loving individuals. This particular nation ― uniting every kind of people into one whole with shared stories ― is an essential, radical experiment towards that global dream.
In the end, serving our country can be a way to serve the world, because the Dream of Democracy implies that everyone on earth is “our kind.” That is the star we are hitched to. So depart; serve your country, your kind; you may find that you’ve served yourself through your loyalty to something larger.
Thank you, Harvard.