Charter Day Remarks, 2004
February 7, 2004
Mark Twain was not just one of the greatest writers in the history of American letters, he was a literary magician. Cleverly disguised as a children’s story, Twain’s masterpiece---Huckleberry Finn explores one of humanity’s most enduring dilemmas – the powerful tension between individual rights and collective responsibilities. As Huck struggles to decide whether to remain entangled in civilization or to seek solitary independence on the frontier, he takes an archetypical American journey. Ultimately, Huck turns his back on civilization. He chooses instead to "light out for the territory" to exercise his God-given right to unfettered personal freedom. The choice he made then confronts millions of Americans now. albeit in an altered context I worry about the place to which so many of those individual choices are taking our country.
When Huck chose the "territory", he was responding to an inborn and ingrained impulse. Many of us share Huck’s inclinations, but our taste for the "territory" is more likely to be the product of the peculiar oppressions of modern life. As these personal impulses multiply by the millions, they begin to shape public policy---to change the country---and they have taken us to trouble. The quest for personal freedom has today become a dangerous national obsession. In choosing to light out "for the territory" –we too often forsake our neighbors, forswear our responsibilities and permit the degradation of our common cultural and educational assets. Too many of us have crossed the line between freedom and selfishness.
Our trouble lies in the self-deluding myth that we can cling to two mutually exclusive ideas without ever having to face up to their contradictions. At its most virulent, this delusion permits us to insist upon our entitlement to maximum public services while refusing to acknowledge an obligation to pay for them.
The founding fathers were well aware of the risks of a too exclusive emphasis on individual rights. James Madison called this the "dangerous vice" of "faction." He thought faction so deadly that he devoted Federalist Paper Number 10 to analyzing it: "The unrest, impatience, irritation and hurry that are so marked in American life" are inevitable accompaniments of a situation in which individuals do not find support and contentment in the fact that they are sustaining and sustained members of a social whole."
Trouble arises, Madison believed, when citizens forget that they must be benefactors – as well as beneficiaries -- of the common good. Clearly, our fourth president understood what many modern politicians have forgotten, that maintaining the linkage between entitlement and obligation is critical. He wisely warned that ignoring that truth could mean the death of ordered liberty.
Today, our government may not be in danger of destruction, but its focus on the common enterprise has become so enfeebled that it lacks the strength to protect the heart of public institutions which help define our civilization.
How inspiring it would be for a modern political leader---first to remember—and then to rephrase Franklin Roosevelt’s eloquent warning---"Better the occasional faults of a government that lives in the spirit of charity than the consistent omissions of a government frozen in the ice of its own indifference."
In the face of such persuasive self-indulgence, what must we do to strengthen the public organs of our state and nation? Specifically, what can Virginia’s colleges and universities to do to arrest and then reverse this trend?
The answer is simple: We must assert the sacredness of the common good---and we must assert it in every way possible – by teaching it in our classes, by encouraging it among our students and by recognizing those whose lives embody a devotion to that ideal.
History is nothing if it is not the record of the collective achievements of humanity. The effort to codify laws, the fight to control disease, the quest to explore our natural world, all owe much to the brilliant work of special individuals, but their ultimate success so often depended upon harnessing the energy of others. College students should learn such lessons in settings that demonstrate the indispensable nature of team work and collaboration. We must take care that they understand and appreciate what William Wordsworth called "the still, sad music of humanity."
Teaching such lessons would be futile if our institutions did not at the same time foster a lifelong commitment to civic engagement. It is for this reason that so many colleges and universities are encouraging students to experience rewards of public service. Not a few are succeeding. One such is William and Mary. More than 70 percent of our students now participate in volunteer activities. The College ranks fifth among comparable national universities in the number of alumni who have served in the U. S. Peace Corps. We re proud of the story these statistics tell.
Finally, we in higher education should assert the common good by honoring those who have refused to "light out for the territory," and have chosen instead to shoulder the great responsibilities of democracy. Today, our College honors Lt. General David McKiernan, one of our own, who led coalition ground forces in Operation Iraqi Freedom; Drs. George Johnson and Ron Carrier, whose vision and energy immeasurably strengthened George Mason University and James Madison University, respectively; and Senator John Chichester, whose ability to discern the public interest and commitment to sustain our valuable institutions are in the highest tradition of generations of Virginia statesmen.
The lessons that each of these lives embodies stand as a rebuke to those who preach the gospel of self-interest, and serve as an enduring inspiration to those who believe that in disinterested and sustained civic engagement lies the best hope for our civilization’s salvation.
