Editorial: The Invisible Man

“While the College understands the Faculty Assembly’s interest in this matter, disciplinary procedures and conduct findings fall outside the Assembly’s authority; hence, no changes will be made to any policies or disciplinary actions resulting from this vote.”

So declared Jay Bernhardt in an email on Feb. 26.  It’s just one example of presidential proclamations this past year making it amply clear that Jay regards “the College” as excluding the students, faculty, and staff; “the College,” to him, is only the administration and Board of Trustees.  Despite the existence of a so-called Shared-Governance Committee, and the launching of the Emerson Together initiative, however well-intentioned, if we are to learn anything from the events of the past academic year it is that Jay Bernhardt’s administrative philosophy is antithetical to true community participation and democratic principles.  As evinced by the outcry heard across campus over the recent student Resident Assistant  firings weeks before the semester’s end, the administration seems unperturbed by the mounting anger such actions spur.

The parallels to the repressive tactics of the Trump administration should not be minimized. As we’ve been told, “the cruelty is the point.”  When Jay fails to admit his role in coordinating with the Boston Police in their assault upon a non-violent student encampment, he displays weakness, not strength, as a leader.  When Jay ignores sincere requests to come together to have a clear definition of “antisemitism,” he shows his hand, revealing his desire to continue to hold individual’s’ fierce criticism of Israel against them. When, over months and many meetings with multiple campus constituencies, a lengthy and detailed proposal for new “Right to Protest” language is presented to the administration, what is the response: silence.

Jay Bernhardt has proven himself to be the invisible man, afraid to publicly speak at faculty forums, unwilling to reply to faculty emails, scared to put virtually anything in writing, the first Emerson president so afraid of his own community that he installs a private passcode for entry to the 14th floor.

In 2009, Emerson displayed its moral fiber by inviting the late Congressman John Lewis to be a commencement speaker (as opposed to this year’s apolitical comedienne amid arguably the worst political crisis in our nation’s history). During that event, Rep. Lewis said the following: “I made up my mind as a young child to get into trouble,” Lewis told the graduates. “I decided to get in the way. It was good trouble. It was necessary trouble. I appeal to you as graduates: Get in trouble. Good trouble. Necessary trouble. I appeal to you to be good and raw courage. Be not afraid.”

Despite a profoundly perilous servility to power on display in many sectors of this country,  people are rising up in opposition.  And as Congresswoman Ayanna Pressley reminded us here at Emerson just two weeks ago, “Courage is contagious… Values are verbs.”  Emerson’s declared mission “to inspire generations of students to think boldly and creatively; and to make sure that all we do—as students, faculty, and staff — brightens the cultural, social, political, and civic life around us” will continue being eroded from within and without unless the administration enacts its values.  Imagine a leader capable of admitting mistakes, having the capacity to change course, prepared to support all those willing to speak up with the courage of their convictions about the injustices of this world – including when those voices cross into expressions of civil disobedience, of “good trouble.” This moment demands such leadership.