The Elite University Administrator-Priest and Orthodox American Civic Religion: David Westbrook, "The Church of Harvard A Reading of President Bacow’s “What I Believe”"

From the end of the 19th century the American political vanguard (civilized Americans at the top of whatever then passed for hierarchies of power), like their Marxist-Leninist analogues, have been driven toward civic values as a means of civilizing the masses of migrants now grown powerful through the discovery of the power of disciplined voting. This informal but well organized vanguard group, our American aristocracy, continues to work diligently to develop an orthodox civic religion through which they could oversee the transformation of the American masses into something like the ideal American (the way that Marxist Leninist vanguards seek to develop the ideal worker, or the ideal socialist citizen). It was to be grounded in the articulation of authoritative meaning in the form of the core principles of the American nation. The application of its principles were to be protected (and interpreted) by an alliance of industrialists, financiers, elite lawyers and judges, high government officials, and the leaders of the leading universities. 

That alliance produced a powerful engine for meaning making, and the making of the American sense of itself well solidified in something like its present form just in time for the global unrest unleashed by the first post World War 2 generation eager to translate the principles of the American Republic so carefully developed  by these elites in ways better suited to their own desires.  This collective meaning making was to be enveloped in the language of the core principles of the American political economic model--democracy, stake holding, participation, inclusion, elections, and the like.

But this movement  also produced a substantial divide, the ruptures of which manifesting first in more benign form from the rebellion of Barry Goldwater to the election of Ronald Reagan, and then in its fully mature form with the election of Donald Trump in 2016. Still, the old aristocratic vanguard held together. Its priesthood remained deeply embedded within the societal institutions that drove and shaped cultural narrative. Now allied with sectors of the tech industry, the vanguard could more easily leverage its interventions, and use societal techniques to ensure the privileged position of the orthodoxy over the application of which they presided. To a large extent it is still true that failure to embrace the orthodox position can serve to effectively block any real chance for someone to rise with social, economic, religious and political hierarchies.But reactive forces ought not to be underestimated as rising cunter vanguards emerge.

Within the traditional vanguard united front, the university has always played a key role.  The university served, in substantial respect, as the magisterium of the American civic religion, and the professorate its priests.  That has changed since the 1960s.  The role of priest may still be undertaken by the professorate, but it is the high university official, the leading administrator, that has taken for herself the role of "higher" priest in the Church of Academic verities. And even as that has occurred, sites of resistance has also manifested, sites that seek to produce a counter narrative, one embraced  by a reforming faction, even within the university.

These are the themes that are superbly considered in David A. Westbrook marvelous essay.  Entitled "The Church of Harvard A Reading of President Bacow’s “What I Believe”" the essay first appeared in Medium on 31 May 2020.  The essay is very well worth reading for  its many insights into the complex interweaving of collective meaning making, the academy, its administrators, and the management of social narrative. 

Professor Westbrook has kindly permitted me to re-post his marvelous essay.  It follows below. The original may be accessed HERE.  His bio also follows.

ACCESS ORIGINAL HERE.

On Saturday, May 30, 2020, Harvard University’s Office of the President sent “What I Believe,” a letter from President Lawrence Bacow, to “Members of the Harvard Community.” The letter is clear enough yet very puzzling, subtly brilliant, and subcutaneously moving. This essay attempts to read “What I Believe” carefully.

Bacow begins by writing that the last months have been disorienting for “all of us.” Community is affirmed in the opening sentence. He then recounts dramatic recent sorrows: the COVID-19 pandemic; the killing of George Floyd by police, and the ensuing violence in the latest chapter of this nation’s never-ending racial troubles; the broader sense of divisions throughout our society; and the poverty of our leadership.

True and well written, but why is Bacow writing at all? Why does a pandemic, racial injustice, social acrimony, and terrible rule require a statement from the President of Harvard? The University is far from perfect, but Harvard and President Bacow himself seem to have acquitted themselves well in these difficult times. Harvard really is not the story here. Should the leaders of all important institutions write to bemoan our situation, and inescapably assert their own moral stature? The Puritans who founded the place might have counseled a more modest silence.

And why is he writing me? Bacow’s letter, of course, is not personal. We do not know one another. He writes from the Office of the President of a great institution, whence it is difficult, often impossible, to write very personally. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of people received the same email. The letter is even copyrighted. Nonetheless, the text is written as a letter, in the first and second person, and sent to people, rather than written in the third person and published.

To address our troubles, Bacow turns to the past, the nation’s and his own. In 1968, when Bacow was in high school, Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy were killed. Then as now the nation was bitterly divided over racial and other issues.

“At the time, hope was in short supply. It seemed difficult to imagine how we would move forward, but we did.”

The notion that we, collectively as a nation, somehow move forward in time is familiar — the stuff of editorials and graduation speeches, not to mention the sense of our politics as an experiment — yet deeply mysterious. Americans have traditionally seen themselves this way, however, so the pressing question is how to find our way “forward.” The future is a task, rather than something that will arrive in the sweet bye-and-bye, whether we are here to enjoy it, or not.

In confronting this task, Bacow tells us, he returns “again and again” to what he believes. Belief, here, combines tradition and conviction, the wisdom of the past and the will of the present. The strength of an individual’s, or a nation’s belief, in both of these aspects, makes it possible to hope, and to move forward.

“I believe in the goodness of the people of this country — and in their resilience.”

“I believe that all of us, liberal and conservative, Democrat and Republican, whatever our race or ethnicity, want a better life for our children.”

“I believe that America should be a beacon of light to the rest of the world.”

And so forth. The list is very familiar, deeply American, and beautifully structured. We are taken from human goodness to hopes for the future to the notion that this nation is more than a place but is also an idea, a symbol, a “beacon of light.” He continues, with the idea that immigrants, with their hopes and their work, have made us much of who we are; the American Dream; the Constitution with its separation of powers, its guarantees of a free press and an independent judiciary and the equal protection of the laws, regardless of race; the obligation to shelter the vulnerable, seek the truth, struggle to articulate and understand, and more. The list is fairly long, and Bacow’s readers may be presumed to know it pretty well already. I believe such things, too, whatever more might be said, in other settings. These are our myths, constitutive and often Constitutional. But if we know such things already, then why does Bacow recount?

“I believe,” in Latin credo, from which we get “creed,” as in Nicene Creed, the most widely accepted statement of core Christian doctrines. Like Bacow’s letter, the Nicene Creed begins each statement of faith with “I believe” (in some churches, “we believe”). If each of us believes the same thing, collectively we form a community of believers, a congregation. By writing as President, Bacow implicitly asserts that the “Harvard Community” is more than just a brand or an administrative formule de politesse. At the close of the letter, we members of the Community are of course called upon to reflect on our beliefs, ponder in our hearts, as it were, but little variance is expected. Bacow’s biographical and historical reference points are Detroit and the US in 1968, but his rhetorical reference is to the 4th century in what is now Turkey.

Creeds are issued in times of basic disagreement, when things “need to be said” to clarify the official position and, in doing so, to solidify the community of believers. In the 4th century, as today, there were sharp divisions over transcendent matters, over the way we perceive ourselves in the great scheme of things. Then it was the Arian heresy, which denied or at least downplayed the triune nature of God. Rereading Bacow’s list, one is struck with how ordinary, ubiquitous, his beliefs are in the United States, or were until called into question recently. Does it really need to be said that

“I believe that no person is above the law regardless of the office they hold or the uniform they wear”?

Well, yes, it does need to be said, especially now, in the age of Trump.

If Bacow’s letter delineates the contours of an American political religion, then Trump is a heretic. The US President has violated, attacked, even disavowed, what we — in the United States and at Harvard (the two are imbricated, and seem almost synonymous for Bacow) — have long and publicly believed if not always achieved. Although he is not named, each statement of shared belief in Bacow’s letter implicitly criticizes Trump. In divisive times, Harvard, older than the United States itself, has clarified the orthodoxy.

Bacow closes his letter in traditional fashion, with a call to action and a reference to Luke: “from those to whom much is given, much is expected.” Indeed. At least vote.

So much more could be said in response: about the ideas of University, Church and State, and how they have instantiated themselves in this country and elsewhere; about the sacred and secular in contemporary culture; about the consciousness and conduct of elites trained at Harvard and other places; about the political efficacy of Bacow’s letter; the fear that it is too late; and so forth. On this outing, however, I will subside with an observation and a recommendation. Although it ends with Luke, as a whole “What I Believe” strongly recalls Paul’s efforts to establish the Church and strengthen the faith, even in the face of adversity, trouble, and the danger of despair. Paul worked by writing letters, making connections, and keeping the faith, as should we. This republic is far from over.

DavidAWestbrook

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David A. Westbrook thinks and writes about the social and intellectual consequences of contemporary political economy. His work influences numerous disciplines, including law, economics, finance, sociology, anthropology, cultural studies and design. He has spoken on six continents to academics, business and financial leaders, members of the security community, civil institutions and governments, often with the sponsorship of the U.S. State Department.

Westbrook has published numerous articles and book chapters, as well as five books, most recently Out of Crisis: Rethinking Our Financial Markets and Deploying Ourselves: Islamist Violence and the Responsible Projection of U.S. Force. His nature photography has appeared in The Flume, the official paper of Park County, Colorado.

Westbrook teaches on business and international topics, including basic courses in corporations and international law.