Statement from Gene Nichol: Feb. 12
The following statement was distributed by e-mail to faculty and staff
by Gene R. Nichol announcing his resignation as president of the
College of William and Mary on Feb. 12. —Ed.
Dear Members of the William & Mary Community:
I was informed by the Rector on Sunday, after our Charter Day
celebrations, that my contract will not be renewed in July.
Appropriately, serving the College in the wake of such a decision is
beyond my imagining. Accordingly, I have advised the Rector, and
announce today, effective immediately, my resignation as president of
the College of William & Mary. I return to the faculty of the
school of law to resume teaching and writing.
I have made four decisions, or sets of decisions, during my tenure that have stirred ample controversy.
First, as is widely known, I altered the way a Christian cross was
displayed in a public facility, on a public university campus, in a
chapel used regularly for secular College events -- both voluntary and
mandatory -- in order to help Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, and other
religious minorities feel more meaningfully included as members of our
broad community. The decision was likely required by any effective
notion of separation of church and state. And it was certainly
motivated by the desire to extend the College’s welcome more generously
to all. We are charged, as state actors, to respect and accommodate all
religions, and to endorse none. The decision did no more.
Second, I have refused, now on two occasions, to ban from the campus a
program funded by our student-fee-based, and student-governed, speaker
series. To stop the production because I found it offensive, or
unappealing, would have violated both the First Amendment and the
traditions of openness and inquiry that sustain great universities. It
would have been a knowing, intentional denial of the constitutional
rights of our students. It is perhaps worth recalling that my very
first act as president of the College was to swear on oath not to do
so.
Third, in my early months here, recognizing that we likely had fewer
poor, or Pell eligible, students than any public university in America,
and that our record was getting worse, I introduced an aggressive
Gateway scholarship program for Virginians demonstrating the strongest
financial need. Under its terms, resident students from families
earning $40,000 a year or less have 100% of their need met, without
loans. Gateway has increased our Pell eligible students by 20% in the
past two years.
Fourth, from the outset of my presidency, I have made it clear that if
the College is to reach its aspirations of leadership, it is essential
that it become a more diverse, less homogeneous institution. In the
past two and half years we have proceeded, with surprising success, to
assure that is so. Our last two entering classes have been, by good
measure, the most diverse in the College’s history. We have, in the
past two and a half years, more than doubled our number of faculty
members of color. And we have more effectively integrated the
administrative leadership of William & Mary. It is no longer the
case, as it was when I arrived, that we could host a leadership retreat
inviting the 35 senior administrators of the College and see, around
the table, no persons of color.
As the result of these decisions, the last sixteen months have been
challenging ones for me and my family. A committed, relentless,
frequently untruthful and vicious campaign -- on the internet and in
the press -- has been waged against me, my wife and my daughters. It
has been joined, occasionally, by members of the Virginia House of
Delegates -- including last week’s steps by the Privileges and
Elections Committee to effectively threaten Board appointees if I were
not fired over decisions concerning the Wren Cross and the Sex Workers’
Art Show. That campaign has now been rendered successful. And those
same voices will no doubt claim victory today.
It is fair to say that, over the course of the past year, I have, more
than once, considered either resigning my post or abandoning the
positions I have taken on these matters -- which I believe crucial to
the College’s future. But as I did so, I thought of other persons as
well.
I thought of those students, staff, faculty, and alumni, not of the
religious majority, who have told me of the power of even small steps,
like the decision over display of the Wren Cross, to recognize that
they, too, are full members of this inspiring community.
I have thought of those students, faculty, and staff who, in the past
three years, have joined us with explicit hopes and assurances that the
College could become more effectively opened to those of different
races, backgrounds, and economic circumstances -- and I have thought of
my own unwillingness to voluntarily abandon their efforts, and their
prospects, in mid-stream.
I have thought of faculty and staff members here who have, for decades,
believed that the College has, unlike many of its competitors, failed
to place the challenge of becoming an effectively diverse institution
center stage -- and who, as a result, have been strongly encouraged by
the progress of the last two years.
I have thought of the students who define and personify the College’s
belief in community, in service, in openness, in idealism -- those who
make William & Mary a unique repository of the American promise.
And I have believed it unworthy, regardless of burden, to break our
bonds of partnership.
And I have thought, perhaps most acutely, of my wife and three
remarkable daughters. I’ve believed it vital to understand, with them,
that though defeat may at times come, it is crucial not to surrender to
the loud and the vitriolic and the angry -- just because they are loud
and vitriolic and angry. Recalling the old Methodist hymn that commands
us “not to be afraid to defend the weak because of the anger of the
strong,” nor “afraid to defend the poor because of the anger of the
rich.” So I have sought not to yield. The Board’s decision, of course,
changes that.
To my faculty colleagues, who have here created a distinctive culture
of engaged, student-centered teaching and research, I will remember
your strong and steadfast support until the end of my days.
To those staff members and alumni of this accomplished and heartening
community, who have struggled to make the William & Mary of the
future worthy of its distinctive past, I regret that I will no longer
be part of that uplifting cause. But I have little doubt where the
course of history lies.
And, finally, to the life-changing and soul-inspiring students of the
College, the largest surprise of my professional life, those who have
created in me a surpassing faith not only in an institution, but in a
generation, I have not words to touch my affections. My belief in your
promise has been the central and defining focus of my presidency. The
too-quick ending of our work together is among the most profound and
wrenching disappointments in my life. Your support, particularly of the
past few weeks and days, will remain the strongest balm I’ve known. I
am confident of the triumphs and contributions the future holds for
women and men of such power and commitment.
I add only that, on Sunday, the Board of Visitors offered both my wife
and me substantial economic incentives if we would agree “not to
characterize [the non-renewal decision] as based on ideological
grounds” or make any other statement about my departure without their
approval. Some members may have intended this as a gesture of
generosity to ease my transition. But the stipulation of censorship
made it seem like something else entirely. We, of course, rejected the
offer. It would have required that I make statements I believe to be
untrue and that I believe most would find non-credible. I’ve said
before that the values of the College are not for sale. Neither are
ours.
Mine, to be sure, has not been a perfect presidency. I have sometimes
moved too swiftly, and perhaps paid insufficient attention to the
processes and practices of a strong and complex university. A wiser
leader would likely have done otherwise. But I have believed, and
attempted to explain, from even before my arrival on the campus, that
an emboldened future for the College of William & Mary requires
wider horizons, more fully opened doors, a broader membership, and a
more engaging clash of perspectives than the sometimes narrowed gauges
of the past have allowed. I step down today believing it still.
I have also hoped that this noble College might one day claim not only
Thomas Jefferson’s pedigree, but his political philosophy as well. It
was Jefferson who argued for a “wall of separation between church and
state” -- putting all religious sects “on an equal footing.” He
expressly rejected the claim that speech should be suppressed because
“it might influence others to do evil,” insisting instead that “we have
nothing to fear from the demoralizing reasonings of some if others are
left free to demonstrate their errors.” And he averred powerfully that
“worth and genius” should “be sought from every condition” of society.
The College of William & Mary is a singular place of invention,
rigor, commitment, character, and heart. I have been proud that even in
a short term we have engaged a marvelous new Chancellor, successfully
concluded a hugely-promising capital campaign, secured surprising
support for a cutting-edge school of education and other essential
physical facilities, seen the most vibrant applicant pools in our
history, fostered path-breaking achievements in undergraduate research,
more potently internationalized our programs and opportunities, led the
nation in an explosion of civic engagement, invigorated the fruitful
marriage of athletics and academics, lifted the salaries of our
lowest-paid employees, and even hosted a queen. None of this compares,
though, to the magic and the inspiration of the people -- young and
older -- who Glenn and I have come to know here. You will remain always
and forever at the center of our hearts.
Go Tribe. And hark upon the gale.
Gene Nichol
