President Claudine Gay before the House Committee on Education and the Workforce

Chairwoman Foxx, Ranking Member Scott, and distinguished Members of the Committee—

My name is Claudine Gay and I am the president of Harvard University. It’s an honor to be here today, representing a community of more than 25,000 undergraduate and graduate students, more than 19,000 faculty and staff, and more than 400,000 alumni—including multiple Members of this Committee.

Thank you for calling this hearing on the critical topic of antisemitism.

Our community still mourns those brutally murdered during the Hamas terrorist attack in Israel on October 7. Words fail in the face of such depravity, the deadliest single day for the Jewish community since the horrors of the Holocaust.

In the two months since the atrocities of October 7th, and the subsequent armed conflict and humanitarian crisis in Gaza, we have seen a dramatic and deeply concerning rise in antisemitism – around the world, in the United States, and on our campuses, including my own. 

I know many in our Harvard Jewish community are hurting, and experiencing grief, fear, and trauma. I have heard—from faculty, students, staff, and alumni—of incidents of intimidation and harassment. I have seen reckless and thoughtless rhetoric shared—in person and online, on campus and off. I have listened to leaders in our Jewish community who are scared and disillusioned.

At the same time, I know members of Harvard’s Muslim and Arab communities are also hurting. During these past months, the world, our nation, and our campuses have also seen a rise of incidents of Islamophobia.

During these difficult days, I have felt the bonds of our community strain.

In response, I have sought to confront hate while preserving free expression. This is difficult work, and I know that I have not always gotten it right. The free exchange of ideas is the foundation upon which Harvard is built, and safety and wellbeing are the prerequisites for engagement in our community. Without both of these things, our teaching and research mission founder.

In the past two months, our bedrock commitments have guided our efforts. We have increased security measures, expanded reporting channels, and augmented counseling and mental health, and support services; we have reiterated that speech that incites violence, threatens safety, or violates Harvard’s policies against bullying and harassment is unacceptable; we have made it clear that any behaviors that disrupt our teaching and research efforts will not be tolerated; and where these lines have been crossed, we have taken action. We have drawn on our academic expertise to create learning opportunities for our campus community. We have begun examinations of the ways in which antisemitism and other forms of hate manifest ����ר�� and in American society. We have also repeatedly made clear that we ����ר�� reject antisemitism and denounce any trace of it on our campus or within our community.

Antisemitism is a symptom of ignorance, and the cure for ignorance is knowledge. Harvard must model what it means to preserve free expression while combating prejudice and preserving the security of our community. We are undertaking that hard, long-term work with the attention and intensity it requires.

Once again, I thank the Committee for the opportunity to discuss this important work. I have faith today that—through thoughtful, focused, and determined effort—we will once again meet adversity and grow.

Thank you.

The post Oral Testimony of Harvard President Claudine Gay appeared first on Harvard University President.

My name is Claudine Gay, and I am honored to serve as the 30th President of Harvard University. My parents immigrated to America from Haiti with very little, but they believed in this country and in the transformative power of education. With their support, I pursued my own education passionately, eventually earning my doctorate ����ר��. I have since dedicated my career to educating today’s students and building upon Harvard’s tradition of excellence. 

I am privileged to appear before this Committee representing the full Harvard community. Founded more than a century before the Declaration of Independence was signed, Harvard is America’s first institution of higher learning. Today, the Harvard community includes more than 25,000 undergraduate and graduate students, 19,000 faculty and staff, and more than 400,000 alumni worldwide, including multiple Members of this Committee. 

On October 7, Hamas brutally attacked and murdered over a thousand civilians in Israel, including American citizens. I condemn that attack unequivocally. That terrorist attack, the humanitarian crisis in Gaza that followed, and reactions to these events in the United States and across the world have shone a spotlight on ancient forms of hate that continue to fester in our societies and, unfortunately, persist on college campuses. 

We ����ר�� reject antisemitism and denounce any trace of it on our campus or within our community. Harvard must provide firm leadership in the fight against antisemitism and hate speech even while preserving room for free expression and dissent. This is difficult work, and I admit that we have not always gotten it right. As Harvard’s President, I am personally responsible for confronting antisemitism with the urgency it demands. 

I am grateful for the chance to share the meaningful steps that we are taking to address this challenge. 

I. OCTOBER 7 ATTACKS AND THEIR AFTERMATH 

Words cannot express the horror and monstrosity of the atrocities committed by the Hamas terrorist group on October 7 or the disgust I, and all of us, feel in response to them. Hamas’s premeditated murder, torture, and hostage-taking of civilians reflects unimaginable cruelty and contempt for human dignity. 

The pain in the wake of October 7 has been compounded by reports of rising incidences of antisemitic and Islamophobic hate crimes and attacks in the United States and elsewhere. The combination of violence in the Middle East and prejudiced speech and hateful actions at home have left many fearful and distraught. 

That is true ����ר�� as well. Many, including myself, feel a profound sense of loss and sadness. Some are angry. Others are frightened. These feelings are being exacerbated by the rise in antisemitism, including on our campus. 

In the immediate aftermath of the attack, my colleagues and I focused on determining whether any Harvard community members, or their families, were in Israel or the larger region and in need of assistance. The following night, I visited Harvard Hillel to share in our Jewish students’ grief and shock. On Monday, October 9, I led a joint statement with all the Deans of Harvard’s schools expressing sorrow and compassion for the victims of this attack, including their friends, families, and loved ones. The next morning, I added a personal statement underscoring my condemnation of the inhumane and abhorrent atrocities perpetrated by Hamas. 

In the days and weeks that followed, I met with members of our Jewish community to offer my administration’s full and unwavering support. I shared Shabbat dinner ����ר�� Chabad and Hillel on October 13 and 27, respectively, and I met separately with Harvard’s rabbis at both Hillel and Chabad. At these events, we mourned together, and many shared their fears and concerns with me. At Hillel, I announced steps my administration would take to combat antisemitism. 

Over the last several weeks, I have continued speaking with students, faculty, and alumni in our community about how the events of October 7 and its aftermath were affecting them, with a focus on those who were feeling vulnerable or isolated. I have attended Friday Prayers with our Muslim community, met with Harvard’s Muslim chaplains, and met with multiple groups of Muslim undergraduate and graduate students. 

Over the last two months, there have been numerous demonstrations on campus protesting the violence in the Middle East and showing support for those affected. Impassioned reactions to these events are understandable. But there is no excuse for hate or harassment within our community. 

I am deeply troubled by instances of inflammatory rhetoric and division on campus. Individuals are reporting feeling threatened by others in our community. The chilling effect created by these tactics threatens to turn our community of learning and trust into an environment of alienation and fear. Reckless and thoughtless rhetoric—in person and online, on campus and off—is undermining feelings of belonging among members of the Harvard community. 

Efforts to threaten or intimidate members of our community betray Harvard’s core values. Harvard’s mission stretches back centuries, has endured wars and depressions, and has outlasted difficulties and strife across eras because we upheld foundational principles. Chief among them are freedom of speech and open academic inquiry. They are fundamental to our ability to foster curiosity, creativity, and academic discovery.

We believe the best path to uncover truth is through open inquiry and robust debate. Harvard understands that hatred is a symptom of ignorance. The cure for ignorance is knowledge. But the pursuit of truth is possible only when freedom of expression is protected and exercised. At Harvard, we will not allow discomfort or disagreement with opinions fairly expressed to impede this pursuit. 

At the same time, true open discourse requires respect for our community, and we must do more to ensure such respect is shown. We encourage the vigorous exchange of ideas, but we will not, under any circumstances, permit speech that incites violence, threatens safety, or violates Harvard’s policies against bullying and harassment. My administration has repeatedly made crystal clear that antisemitism and other forms of hate have no place ����ר��. Threats and intimidation have no place ����ר��. 

Nor will Harvard allow actions that interfere with its core teaching and research mission. The vital work of the University—educating leaders for the future and pursuing knowledge for the benefit of humanity—continues. And it will continue even as we face these challenges. There is a time and place for protests, but it is not in the classroom. Let there be no confusion: Harvard’s top priority is to protect every student’s physical safety and their right to learn without disruption. Respect, compassion, and freedom of expression are mutually reinforcing values that must all be present for Harvard to carry out its educational mandate. 

Harvard’s strength comes from its diversity of ideas and identities. The open exchange of views is essential to our work and to building a community of leaders, something we have been working to perfect over four hundred years. But these successes can occur only when our community feels safe and heard. Betrayal of our core values of free expression and mutual respect serves only to sow division, stoke fears, and undermine a sense of belonging in our community. 

II. HARVARD’S RESPONSE TO THE EVENTS OF OCTOBER 7 AND THEIR AFTERMATH 

The past two months have shown th����ר�� must always strive to do more to facilitate productive, civil discourse in moments of crisis. We must actively teach our community how to engage constructively on complex and divisive issues, and to do so in a way where all our students feel safe and welcome in our community. We must accelerate efforts to make our community a model for how to talk and listen, to educate and learn across lines of difference. 

With these principles in mind, my administration has been mobilizing and engaging stakeholders in our community to combat antisemitism, as well as ensuring the safety and security of all members of our community. Here are just a few examples of actions we have taken over the past two months: 

• Increased Security: We have increased campus security in important and potentially vulnerable University spaces like student residences. When necessary, we have been closing the gates to Harvard Yard to limit the ability of outside actors and groups to use our campus as a platform. We and our University Police have also engaged in close coordination with local, state, and federal law enforcement to assess and respond to any threats to our community. Our University Police have likewise been monitoring a hotline 24/7 to address online harassment. 
• Policies For On-Campus Events: We have provided clear requirements for on-campus events, including engaging in broad efforts to remind our students and community about the University’s policies and requirements for demonstrations and protests, and the disciplinary implications for violating those policies. 
• Increased Reporting Mechanisms: We have increased outreach to our community regarding ways to report discrimination, harassment, and abusive behavior, and we have widely disseminated these tools to the Harvard community. This includes increased monitoring of online harassment by our information security department. We also have a hotline for community members to report incidents anonymously. 
• Enhanced Counseling Resources: We have robust mental health and counseling resources, including a 24/7 care line, and a dedicated team specifically prepared to help our undergraduates navigate these resources. We have also added additional trauma-informed counseling resources through our Counseling and Mental Health Services. 
• Religious Community Support: We have organized community support sessions through our counseling team and Harvard’s chaplains, which comprise more than thirty faith leaders representing many of the world’s religions, including Judaism and Islam. 
  

Harvard’s efforts to combat antisemitism on campus, which is the focus of today’s hearing, do not prevent Harvard from fighting other forms of hate within our community. It is possible to feel deeply concerned for all students affected by recent events and to balance free expression on campus with the right of all our students to feel safe and included. Compassion is not a finite resource. 

III. HARVARD’S COMMITMENT TO COMBATING ANTISEMITISM AND HATE ON CAMPUS 

While we are proud of the initial steps Harvard has taken in the immediate aftermath of October 7, much work remains. Antisemitism has deep roots that grew long before Hamas’s attack. It will take time and focused efforts by my administration and our community to heal the divides on campus, and build the solidarity and collective action necessary to counter this hatred. But we are in it for the duration, and we will not cease our work until all members of our community feel safe and respected so they can learn and thrive. 

In addition to the steps outlined above, we will take the following steps to combat religious hate in all its forms: 

• Antisemitism and Islamophobia Education: Harvard will implement a robust program of education and training for students, faculty, and staff on antisemitism and Islamophobia broadly and ����ר�� specifically. These educational programs will provide history and context about the roots of certain rhetoric that has been heard on our campus in recent weeks, and its impact on Jewish and Muslim members of our community. The goal is to identify antisemitism and Islamophobia in daily life and interrupt its harmful influence. 
• Efforts from Individual Schools: Several of our Schools have announced their own efforts and commitments. Last month Harvard Business School launched four working  groups—on (1) Antisemitism, (2) Islamophobia and Anti-Arabism, (3) Classroom Culture, and (4) Free Expression—tasked with proposing both short and long-term actions to address these issues. Harvard’s Business School and Kennedy School likewise recently hosted a panel discussion on the history of the Israel-Palestine conflict and possible paths forward. Later this month, the Harvard Radcliffe Institute will host a panel discussion regarding universities’ responses to conflict and protest, including efforts to address concerns about antisemitism and Islamophobia.
• External Partnerships: Harvard is actively working to identify and build partnerships with outside organizations, especially those with well-established track records of fighting antisemitism. For instance, we are discussing a collaboration with the Foundation to Combat Antisemitism, and Deans of Harvard’s Schools recently met with the Foundation President to further discuss partnership opportunities. A team from Harvard visited the Foundation last week to plan for specific collaborations. 
  

I will continue to mobilize my full authority as President to confront antisemitism, Islamophobia, and other forms of hate. It is my top priority to foster a community that exercises free speech with tolerance, respect, and compassion. 

Harvard’s strength is its engaged community. I want to thank our alumni—including those on this Committee—and other valued members of the Harvard community who have spoken out and offered suggestions or encouragement during this difficult time. Harvard values that input and will continue to work with, and listen to, members of the community to ensure that its approach to these issues is as robust as possible. 

IV. CONCLUSION 

I’d like to again thank the Committee for the chance to discuss this important work at this critical moment. I have no illusions that these challenges will resolve quickly or easily, just as no one is under any illusions that antisemitism will be extinguished within mere months or with a few focused actions. But that is precisely why we must commit to this work, both in our universities and throughout the country. 

I began my tenure as Harvard’s President with an address in which I encouraged our community to ask “Why not?” when imagining Harvard’s future. “Why not?” is a call to act courageously and to take on difficult, entrenched problems with energy, creativity, and resolve. It is a call to put one’s resources and unique talents to their highest possible use. So, I now ask again: “Why not?” Why not show how a campus can take on antisemitism and also preserve freedom of speech? Why not be a model for the world on how to engage across difference, how to embrace both open inquiry and inclusion as community values? 

I know Harvard has the tools it needs to achieve these goals, and I am proud to lead this effort. We have the resolve to be a force for good in the world. We have faced moments of divisiveness in the past and have emerged stronger. Through determined effort and guided by our shared values, I have faith we can face adversity as a community to learn, grow, and heal together. 

The post Written Testimony of Harvard President Claudine Gay appeared first on Harvard University President.

It’s an honor for my husband Chris and I to be here tonight to celebrate Shabbat with you. I’m told that this week’s Torah portion recounts the story of Abraham, the founder of the world’s great monotheistic faiths. In this week’s reading, God tells Abraham that Abraham will “be a blessing” – not that Abraham will receive a blessing, but that he will be a blessing. He is tasked with becoming a blessing in the lives of others, taking an active role in bringing light into a world that is so often full of darkness.

That responsibility to be a blessing – to bring light, to each other and to the world—resonates with me, and with my hopes for Harvard.

The past few weeks have been full of darkness. First came the horrific terrorist attacks on October 7th, in which 1400 Jewish people were murdered by Hamas, and more than 200 others were taken hostage. Then came the escalating humanitarian crisis in Gaza. Here in the U.S., we are witnessing a surge in anti-Jewish incidents and rhetoric across the nation — and on our own campus. The ancient specter of antisemitism, that persistent and corrosive hatred, has returned with renewed force. According to one report, incidents of antisemitism, nationally, have almost tripled over the past six years. Here ����ר��, I’ve heard story after story of Jewish students feeling increasingly uneasy or even threatened on campus. We should all be alarmed by this. I am.

I want to acknowledge the profound toll this has taken, especially on our Jewish students, faculty, and staff. Your grief, fear, and anger are heard and felt deeply.

As we grapple with this resurgence of bigotry, I want to make one thing absolutely clear: Antisemitism has no place ����ר��.

As President, I am committed to tackling this pernicious hatred with the urgency it demands. Antisemitism has a very long and shameful history ����ר��. For years, this University has done too little to confront its continuing presence. No longer.

Harvard’s mission, and legacy, is the pursuit and dissemination of truth. And the core of antisemitism is a lie – specifically, the denial of Jewish identity and experience. This lie has taken many forms, from Holocaust denial to the blood libel to conspiracy theories to the denial of the Jewish peoples’ historical ties to the land of Israel. Harvard is a place for inquiry and vigorous debate about our world’s greatest challenges. A place to reveal truth, not to deny facts.

To begin the vital work of eradicating antisemitism from our community, I have assembled a group of advisors whose wisdom, experience, and counsel will help guide us forward. These trusted voices include faculty, staff, alumni, and religious leaders from the Jewish community, and some of them are here tonight. I am enormously grateful for their conviction and generous spirit, and for the hope and high expectations for Harvard.

In the weeks ahead, these advisors will work with me, Provost Garber, and the School deans to frame an agenda and strategy for combating antisemitism ����ר��. They will help us to think expansively and concretely about all the ways that antisemitism shows up on our campus and in our campus culture. They will help us to identify all the places — from our orientations and trainings to how we teach — where we can intervene to disrupt and dismantle this ideology, and where we can educate our community so that they can recognize and confront antisemitism wherever they see it. They will help us find opportunities to foster the empathy, literacy, and understanding across identities and beliefs that we need to be the Harvard the world is calling for and that our community deserves.

Our Jewish students have shared searing accounts of feeling isolated and targeted. This shakes me to my core – as an educator, as a mother, as a human being. Harvard must be a place where everyone feels safe and seen. It is just the right thing to do.

The amount of work before us may seem daunting. And I know the goal that I have set for this institution will not be achieved tomorrow. Any problem that has been allowed to fester for this long will defy easy remedy.

Where we go from here will require courage, humility, and perseverance. It will demand fearless self-reflection about our own assumptions and biases. But we have done this before. We have the wisdom and resilience to meet this challenge. We have confronted legacies of injustice in the past and emerged stronger for it. Guided by our shared values, and our love for Harvard, I have faith we can turn pain into durable, hard-won progress. By lifting each other up and speaking truth even when difficult, the light of justice will scatter the shadows of hate and antisemitism.

I ask for your partnership in this effort. There is so much important work for us to do, but I have never been more hopeful th����ר�� can lead the way. I am confident that we can rise to the challenge once given to Abraham, to become the blessing needed for our shared future.

The post Remarks ����ר�� Hillel appeared first on Harvard University President.

Welcome, Harvard families!

As Lily mentioned, my presidency began on July 1, and my inauguration happened on September 29—four weeks ago today.

So—I, too, am a first-year, and I, too, am learning new things every day.

For me, that is what being part of a University community—what being part of the Harvard community—means. We are committed to learning, always, and not just as a result of our scholarly pursuits but as a consequence of our togetherness.

Your students—first-years and juniors—are working and living side by side, encountering lines of difference, and, we hope, discovering ways to question those lines, to understand those lines, to reach across those lines.

We believe in the value of dynamic engagement.

We believe in the value of learning that happens when ideas and opinions collide—not to produce calm or consensus, but to advance reason and dialogue, to deepen understanding, to create knowledge—and, with it, all of the possibilities that knowledge ushers forth.

This aspiration is easy to salute in the abstract but difficult to protect in practice.

As I said in my inaugural address last month, debate and the inclusion of diverse viewpoints and experiences, while essential for our work, are not always easy to live with. They can be a recipe for discomfort, fired in the heat of social media and partisan rancor. And that discomfort can weaken the fabric of our community.

We gather today as a war is unfolding in Israel and Gaza—a conflict spurred by Hamas’s terrorist attacks, a conflict heightened by the captivity of hostages, by the deaths of Israeli and Palestinian civilians, infants and children among them. We gather today as a humanitarian crisis worsens.

I need not tell you about the ways in which this tragedy has strained—even broken—the bonds of fellowship among members of our community. I imagine you have been speaking with your students; I know you have been hearing from Dean Khurana; and I assume you have been following the news about my response—about the University’s response.

I want to reiterate some of what I have said over these past few weeks.

Harvard rejects terrorism. Harvard rejects hate—antisemitism, Islamophobia, hate of any group of people based on their faith, their national origin, or any aspects of their identity. Harvard rejects the harassment or intimidation of individuals based on their beliefs. Pernicious ideologies—and the unconscionable actions they can inspire—are an affront to all that we are and all that we seek to accomplish. They have no place here.

At the same time, Harvard embraces free expression, an embrace that grows stronger as tensions rise on our campus and in the wider world. When togetherness—and everything it represents for our future—seems impossible, it must endure. It must become for every person who is part of this community a challenge, a challenge to talk and to listen with humility, to engage others with compassion and with grace – to live and to lead by our best values, not our worst fears.

Some of us have failed to meet that challenge, choosing to engage in speech and conduct that is intended to deepen and widen divisions among us. This includes instances of antisemitism and of vitriol directed to supporters of Israel and to members of our Jewish community. This includes instances of Islamophobia and of relentless targeting of members of our Palestinian and Muslim communities. I have sat down with some of your children, your siblings, and your loved ones. I have listened to their concerns, and I have offered my support and the support of this institution.

The safety and wellbeing of our community is my utmost priority. Students in Harvard College—students across the University—will continue to be encouraged to report any instances of intimidation, any threats or acts of harassment or violence, through a number of channels, some of which are anonymous. They will also continue to receive reminders of the many supports and resources available to help them through this incredibly difficult time. Please know that we are here for those who are dear to you and that you may call on us at any time.

My commitment to you—as president of this institution—is that your students will continue to be part of a community that wants them to thrive, and that they will continue to be part of a University that has the courage to hold fast to its principles even as it identifies and addresses its shortcomings.

Thank you for joining us for the weekend.

Thank you for being part of Harvard.

Thank you for sharing your student with us.

The post Family Weekend appeared first on Harvard University President.

Inaugural Address | Claudine Gay, President, Harvard University

Family, friends, colleagues, students and postdocs, alumni, distinguished guests.

I stand before you today humbled by the prospect of leading Harvard, emboldened by the trust you have placed in me, and energized by your own commitment to this singular institution and to the common cause of higher education.

I am grateful beyond measure to the Governing Boards for placing their confidence in me; to my predecessors for offering their perspectives, their wisdom, and their support; to my colleagues and mentors, from this University and beyond, for leading in ways that continue to guide and inspire me.

I am thankful to the many members of our campus community who have worked so hard, for so many months, to make today’s event possible.

And, most of all, I am uplifted by love, love that has empowered and sustained me for as long as I can remember, love that has made me who I am.

My dad, Sony Gay, is unmatched in his optimism and in his curiosity about people and the world, twin gifts that he passed on to my brother and me.

My mom, Claudette Gay, passed away earlier this year but not before learning of my election and smiling broadly at the news. I wish very much that she were here, if only for the chance to hear her say, “I told you so.”

Both of my parents, each on their own, left everything they knew in Haiti to forge new lives in the United States. And because they understood that coming to America was not enough, they eagerly sought college education—to ensure the future they wanted for themselves and for their family.

That future came to include my best friend and my wonderful husband, Chris Afendulis. Marrying Chris remains the best decision I ever made. He has always put our family first. He makes this day—and every day to come—possible for me.

And our beloved son, Costa. In moments big and small, and with the many gifts he has already begun to share with the world, he reminds me of the meaning of the work before me, the work before all of us, and our responsibility to the future.

For nearly twenty generations, Harvard presidents have upheld that precious trust. I feel the presence of those twenty-nine predecessors here today. And the three former presidents sharing the stage with me, no strangers to this podium, have set a high rhetorical bar. Though Drew Faust helpfully pointed out in her address that “inaugural speeches are a peculiar genre…by definition pronouncements by individuals who don’t yet know what they are talking about.”

I claim no exception for my remarks today. But I will attempt to defy the genre by talking about one thing I do know—and that is the importance of courage, without which my presence here today would not be possible.

Not four hundred yards from where I stand, some four centuries ago, four enslaved people—Titus, Venus, Bilhah, and Juba—lived and worked in Wadsworth House as the personal property of the president of Harvard University. My story is not their story. I am a daughter of Haitian immigrants to this country. But our stories—and the stories of the many trailblazers between us—are linked by this institution’s long history of exclusion and the long journey of resistance and resilience to overcome it.

And because of the collective courage of all those who walked that impossible distance, across centuries, and dared to create a different future, I stand before you on this stage—in this distinguished company and magnificent theatre, at this moment of challenge in our nation and in the world, with the weight and honor of being a “first”—able to say, “I am Claudine Gay, the president of Harvard University.”

Their courage, that courage, is what I want to reflect on today: The courage of this University—our resolve, against all odds—to question the world as it is and imagine and make a better one. It is wh����ר�� was made to do. John Adams drafted it right into the Massachusetts Constitution, to ratify our charter, celebrating the “university at Cambridge” where “wisdom and knowledge…diffused generally among the body of the people” could “preserv[e]…their rights and liberties,” spread “the opportunities and advantages of education,” and “inculcate the principles of humanity.” By continually recommitting ourselves to our central purpose, with renewed vision and vigor, we advance the prospects of humankind.

And, as every generation must believe of its own time, never have those tasks felt more urgent.

What we offer to the world will depend on Harvard’s courage—our courage—to ask two questions that propel our work—Why? and Why not? And it will depend on the courage to answer, with confidence, two others: Why here? and Why now?

Why? is a question that comes to us early in life. If you know a young child, you know this well: Why are we here? Why is the moon out during the day? Why can’t I eat ice cream for breakfast? Why is she talking so much? We may be tempted to stop asking why when we accept the default answers around us, until something sparks us to question those answers.

Harvard has always been a place to ask Why? It animates our research and teaching.

Why? is the question of scientific breakthroughs, archival discoveries, fresh artistic forms, new remedies for physical and social ills.

Why? rights wrongs, overturns conventional wisdom, and opens the blue sky of human pursuit and possibility.

Why? is how students and faculty move toward discovery and challenge each other to push to the next levels of understanding and insight.

This simple query is the very basis of academic life.

Ideally, we shouldn’t need courage to ask Why? We should feel no more danger of recrimination or risk of censure than a young child. But Why? pokes at things. It raises doubts and raises eyebrows. It clashes with those who may prefer, as President Kennedy once said, “the comfort of opinion without the discomfort of thought.” To persist with Why? is to give up the safety of silence, the ease of idle chatter, the satisfaction of an echo chamber. The goal of Why? is not comfort, it is knowledge. Knowledge is what transforms lives. Knowledge is our purpose.

We serve that purpose best when we commit to open inquiry and freedom of expression as foundational values of our academic community. Our individual and collective capacity for discovery depends on our willingness to debate ideas; to expose and reconsider assumptions; to marshal facts and evidence; to talk and to listen with care and humility, and with the goal of deeper understanding and as seekers of truth.

The political philosopher John Rawls—who spent 30 years on the Harvard faculty—would teach his magisterial work, A Theory of Justice, alongside the works of those who most powerfully disagreed with him, encouraging his students to “listen for the music”—harmony, counterpoint, and all.

In that same spirit, when we embrace diversity—of backgrounds, lived experiences, and perspectives—as an institutional imperative, it’s not with a secret hope for calm or consensus. It’s because we believe in the value of dynamic engagement and the learning that happens when ideas and opinions collide. Communities that welcome diverse perspectives thrive not because they endorse all as valid but because they question all on their merits.

Now, all of this is easy to salute in the abstract, especially from these rarefied heights. But it is hard to protect in practice. Debate and the inclusion of diverse viewpoints and experiences, while essential for our work, are not always easy to live with. They can be a recipe for discomfort, fired in the heat of social media and partisan rancor. And discomfort can weaken our resolve and make us vulnerable to a rhetoric of control and containment that has no place in the academy. That is when we must summon the courage to be Harvard. To love truth enough to endure the challenge of truth-seeking and truth-telling. To love truth enough to ask Why?   

The desire to understand the world urges us to ask Why? The hope to improve the world compels us to ask Why not?   

Why not? is a call to action, the aspiration to do what might seem impossible:

Why not improve health care in Haiti and Rwanda?

Why not get the innocent off death row?

Why not map the 100 billion neurons of the brain or close persistent gaps in education from pre-K to adult learners?

Why not fight the climate crisis on every front or keep lit the flame of exploration—in the darkest depths of the sea and the furthest reaches of space-time?

Asking Why not? should be a Harvard refrain—the willingness to sound foolish, risk ridicule, be dismissed as a dreamer. We’ve seen it time and again—the courage to take a chance, even when success seems beyond reach. And the courage to collaborate, to listen, to compromise, to grow. To bring our imaginations and talents together in a different way.

I witnessed the power of asking Why not? as dean of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences when this space was largely emptied by a pandemic and quieted by uncertainty. We might have faltered. Many did. But we dared to work together—faculty, staff, students. Schools across the University shared ideas, resources—and our strength. We set aside long-held assumptions about teaching and research, we rethought the nature of our community, we broke down barriers to collaboration. We acted quickly and decisively, with a strong sense of shared purpose, and became a model for others. I had never been prouder to be part of this University.

When I envision Harvard on our 400th anniversary, just 13 years away, I see an institution that connects in new and expanded ways, among ourselves and with society—an institution whose people ask Why not? as eagerly as they ask Why?

Why not improve people’s lives everywhere through our scholarship, outreach, and partnerships?

By building new coalitions with citizens, industry, and government, we can accelerate the discovery and dissemination of new knowledge and effective ideas to serve the public good. On every matter of consequence, from disorders of the mind and body to disorders of the body politic, we have work to do.

Why not reach as many people as possible through our educational programs?

By using new forms of how and where we teach, hard-won during the pandemic and boosted by new technologies, we can reach more learners, change more lives, and bring the power of education to communities far beyond our campuses.

Why not open our treasure troves of books, objects, and artifacts to the world?

By increasing access to our magnificent collections, verging now on half a billion items, we cast the myriad elements of civilization into the living world—in all their error, and wisdom, and beauty—to be reconsidered, remade, and remembered by the next generation.

When we summon our courage to ask Why not?, to join new ways of thinking with new ways of acting, we expand the possibilities of wh����ר�� can be and wh����ר�� can do for the world.

We also foster the courage of those who dare to ask Why not me? A simple question that can spark profound change. The moment Margaret Fuller talked her way into the Harvard library, when women were excluded from the entire institution, and went on to publish foundational works on feminism and human rights. The day Ralph Bunche sought a graduate fellowship to Harvard’s government department and went on to help dismantle colonialism and arrange a cease-fire in the Middle East that would win him the Nobel Peace Prize.

There are many among us here today whose presence would be unimaginable were it not for their courage to ask Why not me?   

Which leads us, finally, to Why here? and Why now?

Harvard is blessed with outsized capacity to seek truth and to do good, imbued with awesome potential to change the lives of individuals and the prospects of communities. This means that asking Why? and Why not? is not enough—can never be enough. Harvard has a special responsibility.

A responsibility to help anchor our democracy—by cultivating norms and values essential to a free society and by ensuring the free flow of knowledge not only among students and faculty but to all citizens to enable them to make informed decisions.

A responsibility to explore, define, and help solve the most vexing problems of society—the struggle against tyranny, poverty, disease, and war; the challenge of protecting a planet and its people from the devastation of climate change.

A responsibility to create opportunity—by identifying talent and promise wherever it resides and bringing that talent to Harvard. We are still on a journey that began in earnest with President Conant—to draw from a deeper pool of talent and provide our institution with the excellence it deserves and our diverse society with the leaders it needs and expects.

Of course, we cannot do these things alone. Joining us today are delegates from institutions representing states and nations near and far, and our trusted partners from state and local government who make possible our collective contributions to the country and to the Commonwealth. I hope that today strengthens our connections. You give us courage. The most compelling answer to Why here? can be found in the way we work together to help others thrive.

How well we are doing depends on who you ask. According to some recent surveys, almost 40 percent of Americans believe higher education has a negative effect on the country, a majority think that earning a four-year degree is a bad bet, and still others that a college education doesn’t matter at all. And these views persist despite volumes of evidence demonstrating the critical role of education for economic mobility and for individual and family well-being.

And in that paradox lies the answer to Why now?

Because “now” needs us so that “later” has a fighting chance.

We are in a moment of declining trust in institutions of all kinds. Of endless access to information, but doubts and conflict about whom and what to believe. Of political polarization so extreme that gridlock is preferred to pragmatic collaboration. And all the while, the planet warms, inequality grows, democracies falter, and the next pandemic looms.

If not now, then when?

Rebuilding trust in the mission and institutions of higher education won’t be easy. It lies partly in our courage to face our imperfections and mistakes, and to turn outward with a fresh and open spirit—meeting a doubtful and restless society with audacious and uplifting ambitions, present in both the research we undertake and the students we educate, present in the world we are changing every day by fulfilling our mission.

Courage is hard, and hard to sustain. But we see it everywhere, steady in the face of war and injustice, sickness and loss, in stories of perseverance for a greater purpose. Fourteen years after he graduated from Harvard, W.E.B. Du Bois founded the NAACP and a newspaper called “The Crisis,” an extraordinary record of the struggle for human rights, where he published the poems of a young man working odd jobs named Langston Hughes. In one of Hughes’s poems, a mother says to her son, “Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.” Still, she tells him, she’s “been a-climbin’ on”—through “the tacks … and splinters, / and boards torn up.” And so, she implores him, “don’t you turn back. / Don’t you set down on the steps.” She gives him an example—not of reaching a goal but of pushing through difficulty, no matter the impediments, because pushing through is the only way of moving forward.

Courage is a disposition. It does not whine, or complain, or wring its hands. It also does not pretend that risk and challenge do not exist. Courage faces fear and finds resolve. And so must we hold fast to our purpose in a dangerous and skeptical world. Far from defending an ivory tower, we strive for a staircase open to all. An upward path with no boards torn up. Not only for our students but for the billions of people who will never set foot in Harvard Yard, yet whose lives may advance a step because of what we do.

It is as true today as it was when my parents mustered the courage to leave Port-au-Prince: If you want to build a better life, if you want to build a better world, higher education is the best foundation. Not because we are perfect. We are not. But because we find the courage to admit our imperfections. Because imperfection leaves room for improvement, room to ascend beyond anything we can dream of today.

I began this address claiming that I know something about courage. A bold claim, perhaps. But not a boastful one. Courage abides in a kind of purposeful detachment, admitting our fears and false steps even as we advance—to paraphrase Sojourner Truth, not allowing our light to be determined by the darkness around us. And in courage, we find freedom—where we dare to imagine and make a different future together.

I learned it from my parents who built a life of quiet achievement and high expectations that opened a world of possibility for my brother and me. I witnessed it on this campus, when the entire community reorganized itself during COVID, a feat of collective epigenetics that refashioned our institutional DNA. You have seen it, too, over four centuries—in the short walk, and long journey, from Wadsworth House to this podium today. That is the courage to be Harvard.

I have loved this place since the day I arrived as a graduate student in 1992. Now you have given me the great honor of leading this University into the future, setting a compass by its constellation of brilliant—if sometimes unruly—stars.

Let us summon the courage to be the Harvard that the world needs now.

The courage to preserve the openness and diversity we need to ask Why? and the visionary courage to ask Why not?

The courage to “listen for the music” in other points of view.

The courage to admit our mistakes and confront our shortcomings.

The courage to convert disruption into forces of renewal and reinvention.

Why not here? Why not now? We have it in each of us. We can see it in one another.

Let us be courageous together. Thank you

The post Courage to be Harvard appeared first on Harvard University President.

Harvard Memorial Church Morning Prayers

My Brief Career in Reality Television

Ever since I took office, people have been curious about who I am. Not in the usual ways—not in the ways a CV could communicate the arcs and contours of an academic career—not in the ways a biographical sketch could fill in the blanks. People are curious about who I am. How did I get here? What matters to me?

Because you are here this morning, I want to tell you something that almost no one knows.

I want to tell you about my brief career in reality television.

Now, when this happened, it wasn’t yet called reality television. It was called Romper Room. The premise, if you are unfamiliar with the program, was simple: preschool-aged children singing songs, playing games, and learning lessons with the help of a cheerful and compassionate teacher. There was also a bumblebee, Mr. Do-Bee, who modeled good manners. For forty-one years—yes, forty-one years!—this program enchanted young learners across the United States.

It was August 1975. I had just turned five and was excited to soon be heading to kindergarten. My family lived in Savannah, Georgia, at the time, and my mother—somehow—had landed me a spot on Romper Room. We arrived at the local television station, and I took my place with the other children.

Things got off to a good start. I could sing songs; I could play games; I could learn lessons. And my manners were impeccable—for a five-year-old, of course.

Then the puppet show began.

At first, I was enthralled, sitting still as a story unfolded before me, but my curiosity soon begged questions. How were these things moving? What was happening back there—beyond the curtains? What wasn’t I seeing? I began to wriggle in my seat. I left my seat and went backstage. My cheerful and compassionate teacher intervened. I was returned to my seat—I was returned to my seat again—and again.

Even unscripted local television has its limits. With good humor—and, truly, no hard feelings—I was ejected from Romper Room.

I had forgotten much of this episode until earlier this year. My mother, Claudette Gay, passed away just before Commencement. Soon after, I found myself sorting through things that she had saved over the course of her life. I found tucked among her papers my Romper Room diploma, affirming that I was, and I quote, “at all times, ‘a Good Do Bee.’”

**hold up the diploma**

This object is one of my mother’s belongings. This object is also evidence of my mother’s belonging. I think of her—an immigrant woman, only eight years into her life in the United States, a young mother—navigating an unfamiliar landscape for the sake of an opportunity for her daughter. I think of the time and effort she must have devoted to getting me on that show in the first place. And I think of her pride and her joy in her achievement—and in my achievement.

This is my first “first day of school” without my mother. I share her with you to celebrate her—and so that you may come to know me better.

So, who am I? Obviously—and you can read it right here—I am a good do bee. And I hope to be a great colleague to all and a great leader for all.

How did I get here? Propelled by belief in the power of education, the power of curiosity and ideas, the power of attentive and industrious work—instilled in me by my mother and father, nurtured in me by my teachers and my mentors.

When I helped at Move-In Day last week, I loved seeing families who had never set foot on our campus, who had never really been here—or anywhere like here—before. I loved seeing parents and siblings sporting Harvard t-shirts and hats, brimming with pride and joy at their newfound association with this place and all that it means in the world. I thought about those belongings—about their belonging—and it reminded me of how much our work and this place matter for more lives than we can count.

Harvard is not just for her students, not just for the people who are fortunate enough to be considered members of our community. Our reach, our embrace, our obligation is wider than that—and can and should be wider still.

Each of us has a hand in deepening the connection between our mission and our society. That connection is what matters to me. And every year brings fresh opportunity to renew that commitment.

Thank you for joining me today. Welcome to the “first day of school.” Welcome to a new semester.

The post Remarks from Morning Prayers 2023 appeared first on Harvard University President.

Welcome, members of the Harvard College Class of 2027!

I am Claudine Gay, and I am your president.

I am excited to be here and to mark with you the first moments of your official membership in our community.

You’ve joined us from across the country and around the world. You’ve lived lives as varied as anyone could imagine, surmounted obstacles and reached goals, and defined part of who you are through intense focus, unceasing effort, and outstanding achievement.

And now you are here.

In this space, give yourselves permission to set aside thoughts of the past and designs on the future. Be present in this marvelous theatre. Take in every aspect of this experience. Let your joy and your pride win out.

Each of you deserves it.

Each of you has earned it.

Each of you belongs here.

You are going to make Harvard stronger and better by being who you are, by sharing your perspective, and by contributing to our mission. I know this because I have seen it myself. Year after year, as a faculty member, I witnessed extraordinary transformations in students, profound shifts in understanding and awareness across every dimension of being.

Others will speak today about some of those shifts. For my part, I want to share with you something I learned long ago that made transformation possible for me, something I hope each of you will remember as you set out on your Harvard journey.

Let me tell you a story about a monogram.

I was in 6th grade, and I had a good friend named Stacey. One day, Stacey came to school with a new backpack, and I noticed three letters embroidered on it: SEK. I asked her what they meant. They were, of course, the first letters of her first name, her middle name, and her last name. And she explained, proudly, that when she got older, instead of “Stacey,” she might use her middle name and become “Elizabeth,” or “Liz,” or “Betsy.” We thrilled at the possibilities; each name seemed like a gateway to a different world.

For the first time, I thought about my own name: Claudine Gay. I thought about it for the rest of the day, and my confusion and resentment grew as I contemplated the space between Claudine and Gay—the space where my parents had failed to give me a middle name. And I imagined all of the futures that were now out of reach as a consequence.

I was 11 years old, and I felt—suddenly and acutely—that I was insufficient. I was not happy with my parents.

When I confronted them that evening, demanding to know why I did not have a middle name, they explained that each of them had given me half of my name. My mother, Claudette, gave me Claudine. My father, Sony, gave me Gay. They were matter-of-fact in a way that parents can sometimes be, a way that anticipates and forestalls argument. But argue, I did. And when I complained that they had denied me the possibility of reinvention, their response was, “you are Claudine Gay.”

Then they offered this coda: “Your name is enough.”

I turned those four words over in my mind, and they have stayed with me all these years, a powerful statement about my inheritance, my identity, and my capacity. Sometimes, even now, even as president, when I am pushing a pen across paper and signing my name, those four words surface in my mind.

Your name is enough.

At some point between now and your Commencement—probably at several points between now and your Commencement—you will feel insufficient. Despite knowing better, you will feel as if everyone around you knows exactly what is going on, as if everyone around you understands something you do not, sees something you do not.

When that happens, I hope you remember this story—and my parents’ wisdom.

You have been given a name, but—from this day forward—you will make a name for yourself. And we are here to help.

Who can you be? Who will you be? These are questions that you will consider alongside your classmates; in conversation with faculty, proctors, tutors, and deans; and in connection to your own learning and scholarship. Take notice of work that energizes and fulfills you. Take notice of your joy and your satisfaction. Take nothing for granted. Be willing to reconsider assumptions for the sake of your present happiness and future contentment.

I am excited to learn your names, to understand your aspirations, and to see how you make the College—how you make the University—stronger and better. Welcome to our community. We are so glad you are here.

The post Remarks from Convocation 2023 appeared first on Harvard University President.