chancellor@ku.edu
The Provost and I had our usual "State of the University" addresses written and were prepared to give them today. But the events of September 11, 2001, put a whole new emphasis on the phrase, the "State of the University."
Yes, KU is doing very well, and is probably stronger academically, than it has ever been. But all the ways we normally measure universities-retention rates, enrollment figures, research dollars, ACT scores, student and faculty achievements, seems less important right now than how the university responds to the national crisis that has visited this nation.
In every university, and in every era, certain events test the campus and challenge its role as part of the culture. Sometimes it is local: a bonfire at Texas A & M, a sniper in a tower at the University of Texas, a burning of the Student Union at the University of Kansas. At other times it is national and every university in the country faces the same challenge. That is our condition today. KU finds itself confronted once again by a catastrophe of history.
It is worth remarking that we have been here before, and the university responded with patriotism and courage. In World War I, KU became a training center for army officers to be sent to France. In World War II, so many students volunteered for the war that in 1942 enrollment dropped significantly. That was also the year Bob Dole left KU to fight in Italy.
People of my generation have had their share of national catastrophes, especially through assassinations. Everyone over 40 remembers where they were on November 22, 1963, when they first heard John F. Kennedy had been killed. In a manner very similar to what happened this Tuesday, KU students in 1963 huddled in dorm rooms all day long to hear the news, clustered around the radio and TV. There was a convocation on November 25th to memorialize the president killed three days earlier. Chancellor Wescoe remembered Kennedy's visit to KU in 1957, when he spoke to 4,500 students in Hoch Auditorium. "Like no other man," Wescoe said, "Kennedy appealed to those for whom a university is created, the young in heart, the brave in spirit, the young upon whom, by whom, and for whom the future will be built."
In reporting on the memorial service, the University Daily Kansan said, "What was said was, to us at least, history and the statements are reprinted so that each person might have a copy to keep and pass on, to be re-read and remembered."
The question we face today is what will be re-read and remembered by KU students, faculty, and staff after our conversations, reflections and engagement with the events of September 11, 2001. Our students now have their own day of infamy, just as our parents had December 7, 1941, and we have November 22, 1963. Theirs is the worst of all. The United States has been attacked by a stateless, faceless, profoundly evil enemy who has no respect for human life and who has no intention of fighting by the rules of conventional warfare. The army has for years called terrorism "asymmetrical warfare." That burning notch in the Pentagon, slicing through the Pentagon's symmetry, is a cruel reminder of the accuracy of the phrase.
September 11, 2001, has shattered our sense of safety and security within our own borders. It has taken our innocence. It was meant to strike fear in American hearts, even in Kansas, thousands of miles from ground zero. A number of students have e-mailed me this week seeking reassurance that the University is taking steps to ensure their safety on this campus.
September 11, 2001, above all, was a direct attack on American democracy-what it means, what it symbolizes, what it stands for. The that terrorists intended to undermine democracy with fear. They hoped to bring the country to a standstill, create such panic that we will fear to fly again, lose confidence in our financial markets, fear that our military is not up to the task of securing our safety, fear that our government is a fragile engine, capable of being stopped by four exploding airplanes.
The one thing that seems crystal clear to me is that if we give in to this fear, we will have damaged this democracy.
So that is where I start today, asking how we will confront our fear. We have continued to hold classes because we believe that it is essential that we carry on, that we use the daily activities of the university as a bulwark against that small flame of panic that flickers beneath our shock and anger. Holding classes is not meant to ignore the scenes of chaos and tragedy in New York and Washington; it is silly to think it could. It is not meant to forget about the victims lying in that rubble. It would be irresponsible to slight those who have given their lives for this country. Holding classes is a statement that speaks loudly: the University will continue to function, students and faculty will continue to learn, no matter how much terrorists might hope to bring us to a standstill. Democracy's intellectual base, the marketplace of ideas, the knowledge of our past, and the rigorous exercise of the first amendment that is our university cannot so easily be stilled.
But proud defiance is not enough. It should be reported that most universities outside the area under attack kept their doors open and their students and faculty engaged-and I hope it is understood that the engagement included as much discussion of the tragedy as it did the assignments of the day. Our students deserve that historical citation. But it is still not enough to be our only response.
Equally important, deserving to be recalled and remembered, are the ways the university came together to apply its basic principles to the national tragedy. We have to ask ourselves how will we help the grieving and the healing? How does KU respond to the sense of helplessness? How will we persevere in the midst of crisis? How will we foster a sense of community that reflects the traditional values of the university. We bring more than ourselves-more than our individual emotions and reactions-to this task. We also represent a cultural institution that has existed in the Western World for over 900 years and in the course of that time has discovered how to help young people learn as well as grow, how to acquire both expertise and wisdom.
Our students are implicitly and emotionally asking us, are there beliefs and values and traditions of the university that are helpful at this historic moment? Can the university help us understand and heal, help us move forward with both resolve and hope? Are there inherent characteristics of the university that translate into actions that sustain us at this most difficult of times?
I believe there are and I would like to talk about three of them.
This first is the role of the university as a repository of meaning.
Universities pride themselves for their ability to make meaning out of chaos. We believe we can simplify complexity and provide order. September 11, 2001, challenges this pride and taunts it. How do we make meaning out of such a colossally senseless and evil act? How can we take those ash-covered, filigreed steel remnants of a 110-story building and identify anything positive or orderly from such a tragic scene. It has happened. We could not stop it. Our helplessness washes over us, leaving grief and despair.
Now is the time for the university to offer the healing power of knowledge and understanding. We can conquer our fear with information, even though some of that knowledge will be unwanted and unwelcome. A patient fears his body until the doctor arrives at the right diagnosis. Once one knows what one is facing, the patient can fight the disease.
The university has a responsibility to bring us knowledge about our position in the world and the way our position is perceived by others. We know we are the world's only super power, and yet we now know that power alone cannot protect our global position. We have to know more about the rest of the world, who supports us, who hates us, and why knowledge of our effect on others has to be broader and more sophisticated.
This is not a time for America to retreat behind our borders and become an isolationist state. The university can help explain why that is so important. Our oceans and borders will not protect us. We must find a way beyond the simple exercise of coercion and power to express our will in the world. We must use power judiciously and firmly and unequivocally when necessary, but just as important is our statesmanship, our political skill, and our understanding of other people and other cultures. Military force will always be at our disposal. And it will be used. Our challenge will be to know when to use it and when to refrain. Only a well-informed nation can know enough to support such decisions.
The second characteristic of the university, which informs our thinking during this crisis, is the university as an agent of discovery. We are an extraordinary engine for research. The American research university is the envy of the rest of the world. It is where the entire world wants to study. Our capacity for research can be put to the service of finding solutions for the future. Many of those solutions will be technical and scientific. Just as Sputnik in 1959 led to a major investment in space research, so will September 11, 2001 lead to a national investment in international relations and national security research. The university will be expected to expand its research on other countries, no matter how small or insignificant they may seem. Our understanding of the rest of the world has become a national priority.
Similarly we are in desperate need of further research on how to protect and serve our own country. How do we create security in a country that prides itself on its openness and respect for individual liberties? How do we secure our massively complex and interactive information systems that span the globe? How do we repair and return to success our air traffic system, now that we know its security can be so easily breached?
The university will be called upon as never before to explore and explain the U.S. economy, which has prospered as democratic capitalism has become the dominant economic system of the world, but has also seen its promise distorted by North-South divides, by division between the developed and underdeveloped world, by separation between the rich and poor.
There will be a great need for research on how we are affected as a society as we recover from the cataclysm, and how that knowledge can be used to heal the nation from the wounds we have received.
My point is that we have many new areas of research that will become our national duty to pursue, and because we are a research university, our students will be at our sides and sharing in our insights. Collectively, the discoveries we make will be part of the social compact between the university and society that grants us the special privileges of an academic community, privileges such as academic freedom, in exchange for our exercise of the power of discovery.
Finally, and most importantly, I believe the university must become now more than ever, a model of democracy. As I said earlier, democracy has been attacked. It must be defended. And the defenders of democracy are each of us, each day, in the way we conduct our lives. Pious, empty platitudes come easily to the lips. The hard work of living democracy occurs close to the ground, as we live by our nation's principles. The university can perform an immense service to the young people of this country by demonstrating in its every action the principles of democracy. It is worth remembering that the 14th Amendment reads: No state shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privilege or immunities of citizens of the U.S.; nor shall any state deprive any person of life, liberty or property, without due process of law. Nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.
At this time of crisis, we must make sure we avoid the ethnic trap. Fascism taught us during World War II the devastation that comes to societies that target an entire ethnic group for extinction. The terrorists of 2001 have done the same thing for an entire nationality. They want to strike at everything American, every citizen of this nation-state.
If we fall into the same trap, classifying every believer in the prophet Mohammed as an enemy of the United States, we are driven by the same evil that produced Hitler and the attacks on New York and Washington. This is not a time for hate. It is a time for love and respect for other human beings, and the rule of law that provides order for our society.
We must recognize that we are part of an international consortium of democracies that are all committed to living by principles like those expressed in our Constitution and our Bill of Rights. Only the world's democracies working together can combat international terrorism. Because of our position, we will be expected to take the lead. If we falter in any way in upholding our democratic principles, we will send a signal to the rest of the world. If the U.S. cannot maintain a democratic form of government in all its complexity, how can we expect others to do so?
For the university all of this means that we must model democracy every day. The shared governance of the university is artfully designed to demonstrate democratic processes of free speech, due process, individual rights, and elected leadership. We prepare students to be responsible citizens. That role has never been more important.
In the end, what does all of this mean in practical terms? How can we utilize these principles to help our students and ourselves to live through this most difficult time. I would make five practical suggestions.
