President Michael S. Roth ’78: “We Must Learn to Practice Freedom, Better”

In his Commencement Address to the Class of 2024, President Michael S. Roth ’78 spoke about the connections between higher education and civic engagement, the lasting importance of free inquiry and expression, and standing up for these foundational values on the eve of a consequential election season.

“In the din of our contemporary politics, when shouting, it’s not easy to practice authentic listening; when people are shouting slogans, it’s a challenge to hear diverse points of view. But we must try,” Roth said. “If we are to strengthen our democracy and the educational institutions that depend on it, we must learn to practice freedom, better. We must learn to be better students long after graduation.”

Roth made the following remarks during Wesleyan’s 192 Commencement Ceremony on May 26:

Members of the board of trustees, members of the faculty and staff, distinguished guests, and the mighty Class of 2024, I am honored to present some brief remarks on the occasion of this commencement.

It’s a thrill for me to stand before you among these distinguished educators. I trust they concur that questions of education have only become more urgent these days, especially in the face of populist movements that challenge not only expertise but even the value of inquiry and free expression.

I trust they concur that we must rise to this challenge to the core purposes of higher education. At least since the 1800s, colleges and universities in the United States have emphasized their civic missions. American college students weren’t just supposed to get better at exams and recitations: they were supposed to develop character traits that would make them better citizens. In the last 50 years, whether you attended a large public university or a small private college, chances are the mission statement of your school included language that emphasized the institution’s contribution to society. Wesleyan is no exception. Its founding documents speak of contributing to the good of the individual and the good of the world.

In these days of social polarization and hyper-partisanship, it can be difficult to map the connections between the personal and the political life. Perhaps Ruby is right: perhaps those connections have to do with love. Protests are part of that life, but only its glossy edge. Demonstrations shouldn’t just entice you to come up with words that rhyme with “free,” they should push you to inquire how complex issues have developed over time to have different impacts on different groups of people. Professors haven’t been in classrooms to invite students to share their ideology, they were there to challenge you to realize how much more you have to learn about any issue that really matters.

Authentic learning depends on freedom of inquiry and freedom of expression. In recent years, some have expressed doubts about free speech, but now, as protesters at some campuses are disciplined or arrested, the classical liberal approach to freedom of expression seems again to many much more attractive. That approach underscores that discussions are only valuable when people are free to disagree, listen to opposing views, even change their minds. Of course, in some cases intimidation or harassment can be intense enough to warrant restrictions. But these should be very much on the margins. We should be able to secure safe enough spaces—no guarantees against offensiveness, but the offer of a supportive network to help navigate conflict.

Learning happens when you are engaged in deep listening: thinking for ourselves in the company of others. Being a student, at whatever age, means being open to others in ways that allow one to expand one’s thinking, to enhance one’s capacities for appreciation, for empathy and for civic participation. That participation energizes a virtuous circle because it’s by engaging with others that one multiplies possibilities for learning (and then for further engagement).

That engagement and learning continues long after graduation, but its virtuous circle depends on freedoms under direct threat from the populist authoritarianism gaining momentum in this country and around the world. When the leader of this movement attacks his enemies, when he talks about them as thugs and vermin or proposes his own national university to replace the elites so despised by his base, he is telegraphing his intentions to remake higher education in the image of the violent cult he hopes to lead. Many academics and other elites shrug their shoulders, saying either that “other politicians aren’t so great either” or that politicians don’t really mean what they say. This is a grave mistake.

The attack on higher education, on democracy, on the rule of law, threatens to sweep away the freedoms that have been hard won over the last 100 years. We can fight back. Between now and November 5^th, many of our students, faculty, staff, and alumni will be practicing freedom by participating in the electoral process. They will work on behalf of candidates and in regard to issues bearing on the future of fairness, inclusion, free speech, and the possibilities for full engagement with others.

In the din of our contemporary politics, when shouting, it’s not easy to practice authentic listening; when people are shouting slogans, it’s a challenge to hear diverse points of view. But we must try. If we are to strengthen our democracy and the educational institutions that depend on it, we must learn to practice freedom, better. We must learn to be better students long after graduation.

Practicing education is like practicing democracy—both are collaborative, experimental paths of improvement. Both depend on inclusion rather than segregation. Beware of those who are afraid of those experiments; stand up against those who fear fluidity, who ban books, who are frightened by free expression and creative transformation. Pay attention to and learn from those whose views are different from your own, especially when they are suffering. Education as the practice of freedom helps us to build new communities. Some of you who graduate today will have felt the power of this already; some will feel it years from now. This graduate, from 1978, feels it still.

Over these past four years, I have learned from many of you in my classes, in your roles in student government, and, yes, even listening to your shouts and slogans. In your courageous company I am encouraged to believe that we may be able to build a politics and a culture characterized by compassionate solidarity rather than by slogans, fear, and resentment. I know that you will find new ways to make connections across cultural borders, to build new forms of community. When this happens, you will feel the power and promise of your education. And we, your Wesleyan family, we will be proud of how you keep your education alive by making it effective in the world.

It’s been nearly four years since we put on masks and with some trepidation, unloaded cars together on campus. It seems to me like a short time ago. As you depart, please remember that no matter how far you travel, you will always have a home here at Wesleyan. Wherever your exciting pursuits lead you, please come back to alma mater, come back often to share your news, your memories, your dreams. Goodbye and good luck!