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I’m not sure why Sam Downs, a Macalester College alum, seems to have an axe to grind against Macalester President Suzanne Rivera, in what seems to me a misreading of her Feb. 13 opinion piece in Inside Higher Education, which I encourage readers to review at tinyurl.com/rivera-article. Downs’ response (“Speaking out against injustice is too much for academic leaders?”) appeared in the March 25 issue of the Star Tribune, and is at tinyurl.com/downs-article.
Frankly, I find Downs’ inexplicably personal, even scornful, critique of her character unsettling (“the idea that college presidents, of all people, should avoid dicey politics for self-preservation borders on laughable”). He further presumes, with faulty reasoning, that he somehow has access to her intent and motives. (“What Rivera is really worried about, I’d venture, is facing the fate of peer presidents like Harvard’s Claudine Gay and Penn’s Liz Magill, both of whom lately fell victim to the American mob mentality that conflates antisemitism with objections to the Israeli state. In the face of anti-intellectual opposition, at least these leaders of thinking institutions went down swinging.”)
Let me share an alternative interpretation. Rivera, in her article, raises the key question as to leaders’ responsibilities and our expectations of them. She asks, “How did we find ourselves here? Why is this demand to speak — and to speak in very specific ways — made of college presidents but not corporate CEOs, high school principals or celebrity chefs?” Not to mention a Montana writing instructor with (according to Downs’ biography), eight months of classroom service. Are we not all leaders? Are we not all responsible, as Rivera writes, in addressing fellow college leaders, for “showing concern and compassion while connecting members of their communities to appropriate resources”? Should we not all be “lifelong ambassadors” (Rivera’s language), whether our institution be a bakeshop or a dentist’s chair?
Most important, as Rivera points out, “a leader’s moral character or an institution’s adherence to its own values” may not be well served by an “immediate written proclamation.” A college president “showing up” in person and being in the presence of students may open up possibilities for communication, may further mutual respect. As Rivera suggests, “It means much more for a president to attend a vigil or a silent march for peace than it does to fire off a hasty tweet.” That hardly sounds to me like a college president who’s disengaged or indifferent to either local or international disasters.
Having read Downs’ biography, I know he’s well thought of as a fiction writer, including his editing skill and book reviews. But there’s no place in this fragile world for ball wreckers with No. 2 pencils. Words matter. Let’s all agree that we need to rebuild dreams — in Ukraine, Israel, Gaza, Haiti and in our own backyards. We desperately need “diplomat/ambassador alums” everywhere — in our kindergarten classes, inside our janitor closets, at our grocery counters. Let’s assume, until proven otherwise, that we all long to be better persons. Want to learn kindness? Get a dog. They love recklessly.
Judith Monson lives in St. Paul.
