Saturday, October 13, 2007
The Speech
Some thoughts on Drew Faust's installation speech:
* Speaking generally about the import and values of the university, rather than detailing a specific agenda, was probably a sound strategic move; there is no question that Faust has learned from the experience of her predecessor.
At the same time, it wouldn't have made much sense for her to talk grandly about her agenda, because as far as we know, she doesn't have one beyond the one she inherited. Moreover, just because this was not the occasion to detail her agenda doesn't mean that such an occasion does not exist. This may not have been the time for a "State of the Union" speech...but Faust needs to deliver such a speech sooner rather than later.
* "As our colleagues in anthropology understand so well..." Faust began one paragraph. That is a line one would never have heard coming from Larry Summers' mouth, and I suspect the humanists within FAS took note. Was the shout-out deliberate and political? Almost certainly. Will the humanists eat it up? Absolutely.
* The strongest part of the speech was Faust's detailing of the "state of paradox" in which higher education finds itself. Americans' ambivalence about their elite universities is an important puzzle to address.
At the same time, Faust's analysis of this paradox was lackluster. Quoting from a PBS special? For most people, that's an insignificant point of reference. (Ah, but Faust went on PBS' "News Hour.") Faulting the Bush administration? Few take seriously the Bush administration in any regard, including higher ed. It's a straw man, designed to please the base, which includes the editorial pages of the Globe and the Times, which will surely respond with their approval.
Harvard's larger and more difficult challenge is to identify and assert its values in what the New York Times Magazine tomorrow calls "the Second Gilded Age," and that is a subject about which Faust was conspicuously silent. I know it's a difficult subject to raise, given that many Harvard alums are participants in this new and worrisome money culture, and that many Harvard students go to Harvard primarily so that they can join it, and that some Harvard schools promote it. But is there any greater threat to the values that Faust was discussing in reminding her audience of what a university truly stands for?
(For more on this subject, see Andrew Hacker's essay in the current NYRB, "They'd Rather Be Rich, which raises issues that feel to me more urgent, if less politically palatable, than the ones Drew Faust raised yesterday.")
* I was struck by Faust's repeated use of the phrase "Harvard and its peers," which seemed both winningly modest and an attempt to establish a community of universities. Two good notes to strike.
* I continue to think that Faust needs to lay off the references to herself as a symbol of Harvard's progress. "My presence here today...would have been unimaginable even a few short years ago." Maybe, maybe not. I know that she is trying to congratulate Harvard, but it is impossible to make this remark without sounding self-congratulatory. Moreover, there are real dangers in equating yourself with the university; what goes up can come down, as my old college president, Bart Giamatti, learned when striking workers made him the personification of all that they disliked about Yale.
Everyone present knew that this was a historic day; everyone in the press was going to lead with it; how elegant it would have been for Faust to speak to this point with her presence rather than with her rhetoric.
To be fair, one can understand Faust's inclusion of the subject. It surely is a big deal to her, and some of her new constituencies feel passionately about the gender issue and would have expected her to take note of it. A tough line to walk.
* I think that Faust struck a wrong note by quoting James Bryant Conant's letter to "be opened by the Harvard president at the outset of the next century." (Faust "broke the seal," she says—but wouldn't Larry Summers have been the one to open this letter?)
Because Conant's letter began, "Dear Sir," Faust got a big laugh—the audience "erupted" in laughter, according to the Crimson—as she surely expected she would; there was no substantive reason to mention the fact. A Harvard president born in 1893 was sexist? Shocker.
But poking fun at the shortsightedness of a past Harvard president is a cheap shot. As Faust reminds us, she is a historian, one whose biography of a Southern slave owner depended on understanding the anachronistic attitudes of the past. From a scholar's perspective, this was not her finest moment. Was it a sign, no matter how small, that she is leaving behind her old identity, her old values, as a historian? Making the transformation from a scholar to a university president?
In such carefully considered writing, the inclusion of the unnecessary is always telling, and to me the fact that Faust went out of her way to chastise Conant suggests one thing: that underneath her placid exterior, Faust still carries an anger about the way women have been subjugated in the past, and that this anger will continue to show itself. Faust isn't going to avoid the subject of her distinctive status—Harvard's first female president—because it matters to her a lot, and because she's pissed about the sexism she encountered back in Virginia and, probably, everywhere else.
Good! She is more interesting as a result.
And here is another possible interpretation: That this was a subtle, very subtle, reminder of her predecessor's women-in-science remarks. You see? it says. When it comes to Harvard presidents and science and sexism....well, there's some history there. Faust reminds people of the discriminatory attitudes of past Harvard presidents, but she carefully avoids explicitly referencing one sitting on stage with her.
* Here's something else that makes her more interesting. I hesitate to point it out, because the same people who got mad when I mentioned that a college classmate considered Tamara Rogers a "knockout" (or whatever it was) will rise to the occasion again here.
But...as one looks at the photos of yesterday's event, it's impossible not to note the physical makeover that Drew Faust has undergone. Different hair: She's grown it out, got a better haircut, new, blonder coloring, carefully blown out; lipstick; new glasses; pearl earrings; good make-up. (And maybe more? Hmmmm....)
There were some pictures of Faust on Harvard.edu (in Memorial Church, for example) in which I almost didn't recognize her.
Am I wrong to bring this up? Maybe. But since Drew Faust herself keeps bringing up her gender, and for women in positions of power, such cosmetic adjustments are invariably a political act, this subject strikes me as fair game.
(In the new issue of 02138, for example, we ran an interview with a woman who wrote a book about the pro-feminist implications of a woman letting her hair go gray. So I am clearly not the only one thinking about this topic. Sample question from the female interviewer: Would you dye your hair if you were running for president? Author: "I think having gray hair would be a competitive advantage for me—a signal to the electorate that I was telling the truth.")
Don't misunderstand me; I see nothing wrong with Faust wanting to pay more attention to her appearance, and those of you who follow this blog will know that I have commented on the relationship between physical appearance and leadership skills regarding men at least as often as with women. (LHS, WAM) And, of course, the Harvard community was obsessed with the physical presentation of Larry Summers. What's good for the gander is good for the goose, right?
But what is interesting about Faust's transformation is that she looked younger and prettier yesterday in a more stereotypically feminine way than in any previous image of her I've ever seen.
For some people, that's feminist; for others, that's anti-feminist. The political labels are less interesting than the possibilities.
One could say simply that she learned from her predecessor—well, from all three of her most recent predecessors, really— that there is a correlation between the ability to lead and self-presentation.
One could say that her new power and fame has filled Faust with a flush of self-confidence and vitality that she wants her personna to reflect.
One could say that she concluded that her previous stark, minimalist look might not go over well with Harvard's moneyed alums.
One could say that men get cut more slack in this regard than women do, and that women are judged on their looks more than men are, and Faust is smart enough to know that.
One could say that she wanted to look nice on her big day.
I draw no conclusions; I just think it's interesting. And probably smart, and certainly understandable. We all might upgrade our presentation a bit if we were anointed president of Harvard.
There are no more fascinating people to watch than those in the process of self-transformation. For Harvard, that process may be more important than anything Drew Faust said in her speech yesterday.
Now:
Then
* Speaking generally about the import and values of the university, rather than detailing a specific agenda, was probably a sound strategic move; there is no question that Faust has learned from the experience of her predecessor.
At the same time, it wouldn't have made much sense for her to talk grandly about her agenda, because as far as we know, she doesn't have one beyond the one she inherited. Moreover, just because this was not the occasion to detail her agenda doesn't mean that such an occasion does not exist. This may not have been the time for a "State of the Union" speech...but Faust needs to deliver such a speech sooner rather than later.
* "As our colleagues in anthropology understand so well..." Faust began one paragraph. That is a line one would never have heard coming from Larry Summers' mouth, and I suspect the humanists within FAS took note. Was the shout-out deliberate and political? Almost certainly. Will the humanists eat it up? Absolutely.
* The strongest part of the speech was Faust's detailing of the "state of paradox" in which higher education finds itself. Americans' ambivalence about their elite universities is an important puzzle to address.
At the same time, Faust's analysis of this paradox was lackluster. Quoting from a PBS special? For most people, that's an insignificant point of reference. (Ah, but Faust went on PBS' "News Hour.") Faulting the Bush administration? Few take seriously the Bush administration in any regard, including higher ed. It's a straw man, designed to please the base, which includes the editorial pages of the Globe and the Times, which will surely respond with their approval.
Harvard's larger and more difficult challenge is to identify and assert its values in what the New York Times Magazine tomorrow calls "the Second Gilded Age," and that is a subject about which Faust was conspicuously silent. I know it's a difficult subject to raise, given that many Harvard alums are participants in this new and worrisome money culture, and that many Harvard students go to Harvard primarily so that they can join it, and that some Harvard schools promote it. But is there any greater threat to the values that Faust was discussing in reminding her audience of what a university truly stands for?
(For more on this subject, see Andrew Hacker's essay in the current NYRB, "They'd Rather Be Rich, which raises issues that feel to me more urgent, if less politically palatable, than the ones Drew Faust raised yesterday.")
* I was struck by Faust's repeated use of the phrase "Harvard and its peers," which seemed both winningly modest and an attempt to establish a community of universities. Two good notes to strike.
* I continue to think that Faust needs to lay off the references to herself as a symbol of Harvard's progress. "My presence here today...would have been unimaginable even a few short years ago." Maybe, maybe not. I know that she is trying to congratulate Harvard, but it is impossible to make this remark without sounding self-congratulatory. Moreover, there are real dangers in equating yourself with the university; what goes up can come down, as my old college president, Bart Giamatti, learned when striking workers made him the personification of all that they disliked about Yale.
Everyone present knew that this was a historic day; everyone in the press was going to lead with it; how elegant it would have been for Faust to speak to this point with her presence rather than with her rhetoric.
To be fair, one can understand Faust's inclusion of the subject. It surely is a big deal to her, and some of her new constituencies feel passionately about the gender issue and would have expected her to take note of it. A tough line to walk.
* I think that Faust struck a wrong note by quoting James Bryant Conant's letter to "be opened by the Harvard president at the outset of the next century." (Faust "broke the seal," she says—but wouldn't Larry Summers have been the one to open this letter?)
Because Conant's letter began, "Dear Sir," Faust got a big laugh—the audience "erupted" in laughter, according to the Crimson—as she surely expected she would; there was no substantive reason to mention the fact. A Harvard president born in 1893 was sexist? Shocker.
But poking fun at the shortsightedness of a past Harvard president is a cheap shot. As Faust reminds us, she is a historian, one whose biography of a Southern slave owner depended on understanding the anachronistic attitudes of the past. From a scholar's perspective, this was not her finest moment. Was it a sign, no matter how small, that she is leaving behind her old identity, her old values, as a historian? Making the transformation from a scholar to a university president?
In such carefully considered writing, the inclusion of the unnecessary is always telling, and to me the fact that Faust went out of her way to chastise Conant suggests one thing: that underneath her placid exterior, Faust still carries an anger about the way women have been subjugated in the past, and that this anger will continue to show itself. Faust isn't going to avoid the subject of her distinctive status—Harvard's first female president—because it matters to her a lot, and because she's pissed about the sexism she encountered back in Virginia and, probably, everywhere else.
Good! She is more interesting as a result.
And here is another possible interpretation: That this was a subtle, very subtle, reminder of her predecessor's women-in-science remarks. You see? it says. When it comes to Harvard presidents and science and sexism....well, there's some history there. Faust reminds people of the discriminatory attitudes of past Harvard presidents, but she carefully avoids explicitly referencing one sitting on stage with her.
* Here's something else that makes her more interesting. I hesitate to point it out, because the same people who got mad when I mentioned that a college classmate considered Tamara Rogers a "knockout" (or whatever it was) will rise to the occasion again here.
But...as one looks at the photos of yesterday's event, it's impossible not to note the physical makeover that Drew Faust has undergone. Different hair: She's grown it out, got a better haircut, new, blonder coloring, carefully blown out; lipstick; new glasses; pearl earrings; good make-up. (And maybe more? Hmmmm....)
There were some pictures of Faust on Harvard.edu (in Memorial Church, for example) in which I almost didn't recognize her.
Am I wrong to bring this up? Maybe. But since Drew Faust herself keeps bringing up her gender, and for women in positions of power, such cosmetic adjustments are invariably a political act, this subject strikes me as fair game.
(In the new issue of 02138, for example, we ran an interview with a woman who wrote a book about the pro-feminist implications of a woman letting her hair go gray. So I am clearly not the only one thinking about this topic. Sample question from the female interviewer: Would you dye your hair if you were running for president? Author: "I think having gray hair would be a competitive advantage for me—a signal to the electorate that I was telling the truth.")
Don't misunderstand me; I see nothing wrong with Faust wanting to pay more attention to her appearance, and those of you who follow this blog will know that I have commented on the relationship between physical appearance and leadership skills regarding men at least as often as with women. (LHS, WAM) And, of course, the Harvard community was obsessed with the physical presentation of Larry Summers. What's good for the gander is good for the goose, right?
But what is interesting about Faust's transformation is that she looked younger and prettier yesterday in a more stereotypically feminine way than in any previous image of her I've ever seen.
For some people, that's feminist; for others, that's anti-feminist. The political labels are less interesting than the possibilities.
One could say simply that she learned from her predecessor—well, from all three of her most recent predecessors, really— that there is a correlation between the ability to lead and self-presentation.
One could say that her new power and fame has filled Faust with a flush of self-confidence and vitality that she wants her personna to reflect.
One could say that she concluded that her previous stark, minimalist look might not go over well with Harvard's moneyed alums.
One could say that men get cut more slack in this regard than women do, and that women are judged on their looks more than men are, and Faust is smart enough to know that.
One could say that she wanted to look nice on her big day.
I draw no conclusions; I just think it's interesting. And probably smart, and certainly understandable. We all might upgrade our presentation a bit if we were anointed president of Harvard.
There are no more fascinating people to watch than those in the process of self-transformation. For Harvard, that process may be more important than anything Drew Faust said in her speech yesterday.
Now:
Then
Comments:
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"Faust went out of her way to mock Conant" -- making an amusing reference to era-specific assumptions of decades ago is hardly mocking. If you can't find faults, I guess you have to make them up.
Again, the question is, why include the remark? I may have missed something, but wasn't it the only joke in the entire speech? Is it customary at such occasions to score political points and win easy laughs at the expense of past Harvard presidents?
All of these points suggest that Faust did indeed go out of her way to take that jab at Conant. And, yes, that is telling.
Any Harvard literary scholar who believes in deconstructionism, or even simply close textual analysis, would agree.
All of these points suggest that Faust did indeed go out of her way to take that jab at Conant. And, yes, that is telling.
Any Harvard literary scholar who believes in deconstructionism, or even simply close textual analysis, would agree.
There you go again. Focusing on physical looks. As if a message could be read in the hills and dales of the skin, in the oceans of the eyes, in the forests of the corporeal body. Why? Why oh why? What does it mean?
Richard,
You are misreading. She didn't mock Conant, rather demonstrated with the 'My dear Sir' opening that a president 56 years earlier, quite reasonably given his times, could not have imagined a woman president of Harvard. Your father and mine would have done the same, and that was worth pointing out. I think the Conant letter came to light since LS was inaugurated.
DF then moved on to talk quite poignantly of the CONTENT of Conant's letter, and I certainly got a sense of the the closeness she felt to her predecessor, and the continuities from his times to hers and ours, as you may if you reread the contents, and get beyond the opening:
'I broke the seal on the mysterious package to find a remarkable letter from my predecessor. It was addressed to “My dear Sir.” Conant wrote with a sense of imminent danger. He feared an impending World War III that would make “the destruction of our cities including Cambridge quite possible.”
“We all wonder,” he continued, “how the free world is going to get through the next fifty years.” But as he imagined Harvard’s future, Conant shifted from foreboding to faith. If the “prophets of doom” proved wrong, if there was a Harvard president alive to read his letter, Conant was confident about what the university would be. “You will receive this note and be in charge of a more prosperous and significant institution than the one over which I have the honor to preside ... That ... [Harvard] will maintain the traditions of academic freedom, of tolerance for heresy, I feel sure.” We must dedicate ourselves to making certain he continues to be right; we must share and sustain his faith.'
I thought it was a great beginnning. I have it on good authority that the PR people wanted a laundry list but DF resisted, another of the many good signs in evidence yesterday.
She seems to have a new pair of glasses. So what? I do too. Time to hang it up for a bit, I think.
You are misreading. She didn't mock Conant, rather demonstrated with the 'My dear Sir' opening that a president 56 years earlier, quite reasonably given his times, could not have imagined a woman president of Harvard. Your father and mine would have done the same, and that was worth pointing out. I think the Conant letter came to light since LS was inaugurated.
DF then moved on to talk quite poignantly of the CONTENT of Conant's letter, and I certainly got a sense of the the closeness she felt to her predecessor, and the continuities from his times to hers and ours, as you may if you reread the contents, and get beyond the opening:
'I broke the seal on the mysterious package to find a remarkable letter from my predecessor. It was addressed to “My dear Sir.” Conant wrote with a sense of imminent danger. He feared an impending World War III that would make “the destruction of our cities including Cambridge quite possible.”
“We all wonder,” he continued, “how the free world is going to get through the next fifty years.” But as he imagined Harvard’s future, Conant shifted from foreboding to faith. If the “prophets of doom” proved wrong, if there was a Harvard president alive to read his letter, Conant was confident about what the university would be. “You will receive this note and be in charge of a more prosperous and significant institution than the one over which I have the honor to preside ... That ... [Harvard] will maintain the traditions of academic freedom, of tolerance for heresy, I feel sure.” We must dedicate ourselves to making certain he continues to be right; we must share and sustain his faith.'
I thought it was a great beginnning. I have it on good authority that the PR people wanted a laundry list but DF resisted, another of the many good signs in evidence yesterday.
She seems to have a new pair of glasses. So what? I do too. Time to hang it up for a bit, I think.
You said it, brother!
And there were, of course, more than one joke in the speech: "Inaugural speeches are a peculiar genre. They are by definition pronouncements by individuals who don’t yet know what they are talking about."
And there were, of course, more than one joke in the speech: "Inaugural speeches are a peculiar genre. They are by definition pronouncements by individuals who don’t yet know what they are talking about."
10:47—That was a funny line, but are you sure it was meant to be?
I've tweaked some of the language of my post to clarify my meaning on these points.
And I've added a bit to help explain why the physical appearance of a public woman is a point of interest.
But Richard, I find your argument unconvincing (which is rare for me, as your thoughts are always gracefully and suasively stated). The inclusion of the "Dear Sir" line actually undercuts and works against what follows. She pokes fun at Conant's predictive skills; then takes them seriously. The stream of her argument would have flowed more smoothly without the misdirection of the joke...and that makes the inclusion of the joke significant.
I've tweaked some of the language of my post to clarify my meaning on these points.
And I've added a bit to help explain why the physical appearance of a public woman is a point of interest.
But Richard, I find your argument unconvincing (which is rare for me, as your thoughts are always gracefully and suasively stated). The inclusion of the "Dear Sir" line actually undercuts and works against what follows. She pokes fun at Conant's predictive skills; then takes them seriously. The stream of her argument would have flowed more smoothly without the misdirection of the joke...and that makes the inclusion of the joke significant.
Its really very simple. As a woman, Faust naturally has to focus more on the power implications of the event and of her accession to a position of institutional and social importance. In order to demonstrate, and thus use, power, women face the dilemma of having to overcome inherent bias, and they do it, among other ways, with appearance. What is an appropriate appearance for a female professor is not for a female university president. Why? Because while Larry Summers can pull of the rumpled intellectual look and still wield power with the force of his intellect and his yang (male) energy, a woman is not taken seriously unless she looks like she's suited up and ready to play in the big game. The referees are still all men.
I'll go halfway with you on that. But as anyone who's ever walked down the street with an attractive woman knows, the toughest, or most painstaking, critics of a woman's appearance are usually other women.
Valid and smart analysis, Richard. I was looking forward to seeing your take.
But I have to disagree with the thrust of your argument regarding Conant. I think it was a harmless joke, nothing I (personally) would describe as a "jab." Indeed, if she was to reference the letter, which seems an extremely relevant inclusion (if only for its novelty), how could she not disclose the greeting?
And while I always find your theme of presentation an interesting one...I think she just wanted to look good on her big day. And she certainly did.
But I have to disagree with the thrust of your argument regarding Conant. I think it was a harmless joke, nothing I (personally) would describe as a "jab." Indeed, if she was to reference the letter, which seems an extremely relevant inclusion (if only for its novelty), how could she not disclose the greeting?
And while I always find your theme of presentation an interesting one...I think she just wanted to look good on her big day. And she certainly did.
Myself, I go for the multiple interpretations, SE. But I agree that she looked great—and most of all, she looked happy, which I thought was quite appealing.
Richard 10:47, you say
'She pokes fun at Conant's predictive skills; then takes them seriously'.
I disagree again. She started with Conant's foreboding, which was surely justified by the years that preceded and the decades that have ensued, and she neither minimized nor poked fun at his foreboding in her words or her tone. Show us otherwise! Then she shifted to his optimism and faith in Harvard's ability to preserve 'academic freedom' and 'tolerance for heresy', which she emphatically embraced and presented as a challenge for the present.
'She pokes fun at Conant's predictive skills; then takes them seriously'.
I disagree again. She started with Conant's foreboding, which was surely justified by the years that preceded and the decades that have ensued, and she neither minimized nor poked fun at his foreboding in her words or her tone. Show us otherwise! Then she shifted to his optimism and faith in Harvard's ability to preserve 'academic freedom' and 'tolerance for heresy', which she emphatically embraced and presented as a challenge for the present.
Here's the Globe, Richard:
"It was addressed to, 'My Dear Sir,' " said Faust, emphasizing the last word to laughter and heavy applause.
That's the prediction I'm referring to.
"It was addressed to, 'My Dear Sir,' " said Faust, emphasizing the last word to laughter and heavy applause.
That's the prediction I'm referring to.
Oh, OK, Richard, but it was also addressed to HER, and she's not a sir, so it is natural enough she would have some reaction and pass on the detail. I just don't believe she was mocking Conant's predictive skills or being anachronistic. It was a lighht moment that well prepared the listener for the seriousness of C.'s letter.
Well, perhaps you are right, Richard, and I'm reading too much into it. (Wouldn't be the first time.) I'll keep your thoughts in mind.
Richard, you live in one of the two American cities most obsessed with the creation and manipulation of images (assuming LA is the other), maybe that's why you always stress physical appearances?
Here in Cambridge, I hope most of us were parsing the ideas in her speech rather than her looks. And on that front, she did very well, I tough. I didn't hear a mocking tone in her treatment of the Conant letter, so I think you're reading that one wrong.
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Here in Cambridge, I hope most of us were parsing the ideas in her speech rather than her looks. And on that front, she did very well, I tough. I didn't hear a mocking tone in her treatment of the Conant letter, so I think you're reading that one wrong.
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