America has for its entire history been fascinated with science. Although the lofty ideals associated with establishing the country have mostly to do with personal liberty and equality, the founders were very aware of the importance of new knowledge, and scientific knowledge, in particular. Benjamin Franklin perhaps best exemplified the broad curiosity about both principles of the natural world and the ideals of political philosophy when forging the foundation of a new democracy, and New England was already home to private universities before the Revolution. In the South, public universities were created concomitantly with the formation of the country, first in Georgia and North Carolina, and then in Virginia where Thomas Jefferson devoted his post-presidency to a new institution in Charlottesville. Although these establishments were partly dedicated to training clergy, they were not divorced from science. Jefferson had become an admirer of the chemist Antoine-Laurent Lavoisier while in France and directed the construction of a chemistry laboratory in the basement of the University of Virginia rotunda. At the same time, Elisha Mitchell, a geologist and minister, became president of the University of North Carolina. These universities were revered by America’s founders. President James Madison said that “learned institutions ought to be favored objects with every free people.”
At this year’s 250th anniversary of the writing and adoption of the Declaration of Independence, it’s hard to see through the political turmoil whether the promise of knowledge and education envisioned by the founders is still alive. To find some hope,
I was eager to talk to Beverly Gage, a history professor at Yale University whose recent book,
This Land is Your Land: A Road Trip Through U.S. History, tells the country’s story through her visits to key locations in American history. She also co-chaired a committee whose “Report of the Yale Committee on Trust in Higher Education” examined how Yale can restore trust among those who have been disaffected with higher education. Gage has spent substantial time thinking about the intersection of aspiration and reality. In her book, she is critical of the fact that not everyone in the United States has benefited from the American promises of prosperity and possibility, and in the Yale report, she argues that higher education has often fallen short of its highest ideals in access and opportunity. Nonetheless, she told me that “self-critique is really healthy and it’s healthy even in a moment when you’re under pressure and you’re under attack.”
Striking an encouraging note, Gage explained to me that the Yale report convinced her that “what people want is for the institutions to live up to their highest purposes and best aspirations,” and that she didn’t see any evidence that faith in the enterprise of education had collapsed. She articulated a central question from her book: “Is it possible in this moment to know your history and to know the deepest and most difficult parts of the American past, and still say that you love your country?” Gage is hopeful that it is indeed possible, saying that she met many people across the country who hold on to both thoughts. “They have big hopes and dreams for it still,” she said optimistically.
The scientific community’s response to the last 18 months of political attacks on science has involved a lot of rhetoric about the value of science. But trust isn’t earned by persuasion. “Trust,” Gage said, “comes from doing what you say you’re going to do and doing it well.” The people who are disappointed in higher education and in science in America have good reasons to lose trust. The equality and liberty promised in the Declaration of Independence have not accrued equally to all. The economic and intellectual benefits of higher education are still out of reach for many. And science has enabled technology that has often benefited the wealthy much more than those with fewer resources. But rather than continuing to discuss the problem of public trust in higher education and science, the semiquincentennial is an opportunity for both institutions to acknowledge that Americans can be disappointed in the impact of higher education and science on society but still believe that both can be better. The scientific community can recognize this by committing to what it says it can do and living up to those aspirations in a way that is rigorously documented and provides benefits to all.