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February 7, 2001: On the Campus The values
of a Princeton education In December, a friend
who knows of my interest in Princeton’s history gave
me a book of excerpts from William G. Bowen *58’s writings
when he was president. The book, containing mostly speeches from
opening exercises and commencement ceremonies, reflects President
Bowen’s efforts to explain to students the fundamental values
of the university. As I read, I could not help but think that as
an incoming freshman I could not have appreciated the message. As
a senior, on the other hand, beginning to grapple with what my identity
will be after Princeton and what my continuing relationship with
the university might be, Bowen’s words captured me. I realized
that over the span of four short years Princeton had, almost by
osmosis and without my knowing, instilled its core values in me.
Perhaps because it has taught me so well, I now feel a loyalty to
Princeton that I have not felt toward any other place, and the rhetoric
of the institution from 25 years earlier reminded me that in the
rush to achieve as a student, I had not paused to consider why or
to what I was becoming so attached. Though dynamic, Princeton
is in many ways timeless, and it is imbued with timeless values
that bind us to it. Some of those values — diversity, individuality,
and freedom of thought — border on cliché, and most
students hold them even before matriculation. Princeton may sustain
those values within students, but it does not create them and does
not uniquely teach them, and so loyalty to the institution, at least
in my case, does not stem from them. But there are other more unique,
equally timeless principles to which Princeton adheres that it does
transfer to students — or at least that I have unwittingly
absorbed — and President Bowen’s writings forced me to
think for the first time about what those unique principles are. One such principle, remarkably
simple yet easily overlooked, is, in Bowen’s words, “the
education of students as preparation for citizenship.” In a
sense, this is the core of “Princeton in the nation’s
service,” but I had never thought of Woodrow Wilson’s
creed that way. Students today view education as a tool for developing
skills that we ourselves will need. It is much harder, and seems
even brash, to think of education in terms of skills that civil
society needs all of its citizens to have. But Princeton has taught
me to view it that way, and that lesson leaves me indebted to its
teacher. Another principle, oddly,
is tradition. Though it often seems the manifest weakness of conservatism,
professor Toni Morrison reminded us in her 250th anniversary address
on “The Idea of the Place” that tradition does not mean
status quo. “Princeton’s poise rests on its tradition
of independence,” she wrote. “Princeton’s subtlety
lies in its ability to revise itself. Its strength is knowing what
its founders knew, that service to the individual, to the government,
to the world requires unwavering commitment to intellectual freedom.”
In Bowen’s words, we have seen farther by standing on the shoulders
of giants, we value the opportunity to be a part of something much
greater than any one of us, and we feel a responsibility to provide
the same opportunity to future generations of Princetonians. And
though I could not have understood it when I arrived, I will leave
Princeton with the same feeling. Finally, if the abstract
function of a liberal arts education is to teach its students new
ways to learn and understand, I most credit Princeton with teaching
me, by example, the humility of questioning. As Bowen told the graduating
classes of 1973 and 1987, “I have often thought that one of
the real contributions of Princeton is to encourage a greater openness
to the all too real possibility of being wrong.” And I feel
a strong loyalty for that timeless lesson as well. At all times, but especially
at the end of a record-setting capital campaign, it is important
to ask why alumni are so drawn to continue their relationship with
the university. Bowen’s answer, as eternal as the institution
of which he speaks, is, “Our society has need of what this
place, at its best, can be. The pull is finally as simple as that.”
After four years here, imbued now as I am with the timeless values
of this institution, I think I finally understand what that means.
Alex Rawson (ahrawson@princeton.edu), a senior from Shaker Heights, Ohio, is writing his thesis on the memory of Abraham Lincoln among African Americans from 1865Ñ1968. His most recent PAW Online column, at www.princeton.edu/~paw, concerns his thesis.
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