Mixed Feelings

Our first hasty words regarding President Conant's resignation seem, upon reflection, an inadequate statement of our feelings. We did not want to overemphasize his importance as president of Harvard lest we seem to deplore his decision to resign. But in attempting to avoid that pitfall, we fear that we did not sufficiently emphasize our deep sorrow and regret at his retirement.

It would, of course, be presumptuous to criticize his decision. Anyone who has known or observed President Conant is confident that nobody could have weighed more exactly or more wisely than he what his change of role will mean to the world, to America, and to Harvard. We congratulate Germany and all of Western Europe on their acquisition of the services of such an extraordinary man. And we are grateful that he will have an official voice in American foreign policy.

But for all our confidence in his choice and for all our pleasure that he is assuming such an important post, we are saddened and worried to see him go.

When we worry about Conant's leaving Harvard, we are not really worrying about Harvard itself. He has put it in better condition than the most exacting critic could demand. Its administration and its finances are in the best possible shape and in exceptionally able hands. Every major division of the University is either the best or close to the best of its kind in the country. The entire organization is vital; its capacity for maintaining its standards and continuing its growth--both in ideals and in educational techniques--is assured for some time to come.

No, we are not worried about Harvard University. But we are worried about American education, in which Conant has long been the recognized leader. We are not confident that he will so easily be replaced in this role as in the presidency of Harvard.

We do not want to sound hysterical, but it would be foolish to pretend that American education is not in severe danger. Three Congressional committees have announced their intention of "investigating" it. Even if the investigators were intelligent and responsible men, they are cager to investigate just the wrong thing.

American education has a disease worth investigating, but it is not too many Communist teachers. Their number is so small that it constitutes no menace to a society already so zealously anti-Communist.

What the Congressmen ought to investigate and expose is the number of teachers terrified of purges and investigations, of men who cower and bootlick and teach less than they know because they are in grave danger of losing their jobs if anybody so much as points an accusing finger at them. When teachers start to withhold knowledge it is about time for students to stop going to school.

The educational system has been, as it must be, a prime target for the exponents of orthodoxy. That is where orthodoxy counts, for if it wins in the schools and colleges it cannot be beaten. If unorthodox ideas and unorthodox people are methodically suppressed by teachers and educational institutions, freedom becomes a word of purely historical interest. If those who insist upon orthodoxy are not defeated, by 1984 the world may well resemble George Orwell's vivid warning.

That is why we mourn Conant's departure from education. He has been its leader not merely because of his speeches and Writings, nor because his administrative ability and his scholarship commanded respect, nor because he was president of Harvard. His most important role was as an example, as an illustration of what an educator can be and should be.

Others have achieved eminence in education by following daring new formulae and sticking to them in the face of constant attack. Conant reached greatness by refusing to dictate policy, by avoiding the panacea, the rule of thumb, and the easy answer. He reached it by the exercise of courage and integrity, by constantly affirming in practice his faith in the individual and in the necessity of his freedom, by encouraging and demanding honest of his freedom, by encouraging and demanding hones and unfettered seeking after truth.

Perhaps his training as a chemist shaped Conant as a college president. Knowing that the scientist must be at liberty to challenge accepted theories, he considered that same freedom an essential requirement in every field of knowledge. He was not only the leading defender of academic freedom, he was its personification. He would no more fire a good teacher than keep a poor one just because his political opinions were unpopular.

That many have been inspired by his example is no less evident than that too few have had the courage or the will to follow it. But no matter how few have followed his lead, he has been a great leader in a crucial battle, and his decision to leave it fills us with misgivings.

His courage, his calm and modest determination, and his sense of high purpose have infected all those whom he has touched. Now these same qualities call him to a new task, and certainly it too is a crucial one. We cannot pass judgment on his choice, nor can we doubt its wisdom. But we cannot deny a sense of personal loss, because we are students in America and because we are Harvard students.