Princeton Renames Wilson School and Residential College, Citing Former President’s Racism

Woodrow Wilson was the enabler, if not the principal architect, of the disastrous 1919 Peace of Paris. The outcome of the war was decided by the 1918 Meuse-Argonne offensive. It consisted of 600,000 American soldiers and, as such, is the largest battle in our history.

The accord consisted of five treaties:  Neuilly (Bulgaria), Sevres (Turkey), St. Germain (Austria), Trianon (Hungary), and Versailles (Germany).  The Treaty of  Versailles was signed in the same Hall of Mirrors where the German Empire was proclaimed 48 years earlier. Imagine if the British had won the War of 1812 and we had to sign the treaty in Independence Hall!

Henry Kissinger called the Congress of Vienna “a world restored.” The Peace of Paris was a world ripped apart. It sowed the seeds of World War II and its consequences are felt to this day. It is ironic that Wilson’s name used to be on our school of international relations.

The son of the Virginian minister was in over his head. Frederick the Great was right when he observed, “It is a long way from the Ohio River to the Spree.”

The Princeton Alumni Weekly of September 2020 has several articles and references to Woodrow Wilson 1879. None, however, identify Wilson as a Democrat. Almost all of the Southern Democrats of his day were segregationists and racists.

This continued long into the 20th century. Most Southern Democrats in the Senate and House voted against the landmark Civil Rights Act of 1964.

Anent the ever-contentious Woodrow Wilson issue, one is reminded of the observation spoken by Marc Antony in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar: “The evil that men do lives after them. The good is oft interred with their bones.”

The reverse of this dichotomy obtained until the recent reevaluation and determination. We should no more bury Wilson’s positive achievements than we should forgive and forget his reprehensible actions. (In fact, doesn’t that hold true for all of us?) 

The problem with cancel culture lies in the meaning one gives to “cancel.” Eliminate altogether? Or start afresh and reassess with maximum fairness and objectivity? As French historian André Kaspi wrote: “History is never all black or all white. It is always more or less gray.” 

I can see no reason to doubt that President Eisgruber ’83 and his advisers thought long and hard about the decision to disassociate Woodrow Wilson’s name from Princeton (On the Campus, September issue). That Wilson’s blatant racism was unimportant to decision-makers at the University generations ago should not bind us to their judgment now. As we recognize how fragile our democracy has become, we must be vigilant in our care for the rights of all citizens. 

Paying respectful attention to every American translates not to dismissing the aspirations of some as “current fashion” or “social trends” but listening to what others have to say and taking them seriously. I learned this while working in an experimental division of my college, a white teacher with Black — and only Black — students. Forced to listen, I learned lessons I had previously denied myself. It was humbling and, I like to think, broadening.

When I arrived at Princeton in 1952, I found the University’s enchantment with tradition strange and intimidating. But in the classroom my ideas, even if immature or poorly stated, got an audience, and that truly mattered. Princeton has changed in many positive ways since then, as indeed it was altered — by Wilson as much as anyone — in important ways since my grandfather was in the Seminary at the turn of the 20th century. If it is now more responsive to its students, that is a sign of its strength as a democratic institution. That ought to be a cause for optimism among its alumni.

The flippant headline, “Goodbye, Woody Woo,” on the September PAW cover is tasteless and offensive in the context of the concern over the question of Woodrow Wilson’s name. I disagree with the decision to remove it, as it implies that, in Wilson’s life, regardless of his achievements, the most important question about his life is whether he liked Black people or not. He was a man of his time, and I would guess that a majority of the American population then was also racist. Does your decision thus imply that we should get out our family picture albums and remove grandfathers and uncles? 

Regarding the decision to signal that the University condemns racism: I should have hoped this was evident already. I expect that this action will have little resonance with Black people in general, who have better things to worry about than intellectual debates in the Ivy League. If you were seriously interested in improving the lives of Black people, you would urge your students to advocate for the destruction of the power of the teachers’ unions that restrict the ability of Black families to choose schools that they prefer for their children. Absent this, all your posturing over names is nothing but an irrelevant charade.

However, as long as symbols are important to you, I suggest you deal with the tiger, who seems an overly masculine and aggressive personification for a university that is mostly feminine and compassionate. How about a dove instead, or perhaps a chicken?

Princeton’s decision to cancel out Woodrow Wilson’s honored memory is both wrong and a cowardly example of presentism. This is the nut of my strong complaint. I am matching words with action: This lifetime active and loyal alumnus, as well as father to Alex Donner (’75), is removing Princeton from his will just as Woodrow Wilson is now removed from what was “the best old place of all.”

I was appalled at the University’s decision to remove Wilson from multiple places at Princeton. We all recognize his racist stance but we also recognize his many contributions to Princeton, New Jersey, the United States, and to the world. As they say in the entertainment business, judge by the “total body of work.” You can’t pluck an individual out of history and judge him/her by the customs, values, and mores of another time. As I write this, the statue topplers are after Columbus and Teddy Roosevelt. I suppose the Jefferson Memorial and the Washington Monument are next. God help us if a historian decides that St. Paul was assisted by a slave on the road to Damascus.

President Eisgruber’s June 27 Message to the Princeton Community concerning the renaming of the Woodrow Wilson School of International Affairs and Wilson College will undoubtedly prompt discussion among students and alumni. But a building is no more than brick and mortar or concrete. What is essential is how we modify our attitudes and our behavior towards humanity. Princeton has been making substantial efforts to combat implicit and explicit racial bias on campus, and I am hopeful that this trend will continue. I applaud the efforts of Princeton University to create a more just environment on campus.

I support changing the name of two buildings on campus to eliminate the visual abuse that they have caused. Does it end here? Just how far should Princeton go to remove the names of past Princeton presidents who contributed to the growth and success of Old Nassau, but who were racially biased? I do not pretend to know the answer to that question. But what I can do is relate the early history of our university’s first eight presidents, courtesy of the Princeton & Slavery Project website, found at https://slavery.princeton.edu/stories/slaveholding-presidents. There you will find the information summarized below. 

Reverend Jonathan Dickinson was the first president of the College of New Jersey. The hall housing the Department of History bears his name. In June 1733, Dickinson purchased an enslaved girl named Genny from a neighbor. Slavery remained central to Dickinson’s worldview throughout his career in the pulpit. From “Princeton’s Founding Trustees” by Michael R. Glass.  

Reverend Aaron Burr Sr. served as the second president of the College of New Jersey, from 1748 to 1757. In 1756, Burr oversaw the college’s move to its new Princeton campus—which at the time consisted only of Nassau Hall (built on land donated by a wealthy slaveholder), and the President’s House. That same year, Burr purchased an enslaved man named Caesar for eighty pounds. Caesar was not Burr’s only slave, however. When Burr died in office in 1757, he left a will that listed three enslaved people assessed at a monetary value of 150 pounds. From “Aaron Burr Sr.” by Shelby Lohr.  

In 1757, Jonathan Edwards succeeded his recently deceased son-in-law, Aaron Burr Sr., as its third president. Edwards and his wife Sarah had eleven children. He maintained the large household in part through the labor of enslaved people. In 1731, Edwards visited Newport, Rhode Island, where he purchased Venus, a “Negro girl” estimated to be 14 years old. Records also indicate that Edwards owned a “Negro boy,” Titus, and a second female slave named Leah—although historians are uncertain as to whether the family simply gave Venus a biblical name. From “Jonathan Edwards, Sr.” by Richard Anderson.  

Samuel Davies was the College of New Jersey’s fourth president. Davies was particularly interested in ministering to slaves. He championed literacy for enslaved people and seemed deeply committed to their spiritual welfare. However, he never questioned the legitimacy of human bondage and owned slaves himself in Virginia. From “Presbyterians and Slavery” by James Moorehead.  

Samuel Finley was unanimously elected the college’s fifth president in 1761, after the death of Samuel Davies. While serving as president, Samuel Finley owned slaves, at least six of whom lived and worked at the President’s House on campus. At the time of his death in 1766, Finley’s estate included “Two Negro women, a negro man, and three Negro children.” A public notice advertising the sale of the late president’s property stated that the enslaved women were conversant in “all kinds of house work,” with the men trained in farming and agricultural work. In August 1766, these enslaved people were sold alongside furniture, livestock, and “books, religious, moral and historical.” The auction was advertised to take place at the President’s House on campus. From “Samuel Finley” by Shelby Lohr and R. Isabela Morales.

John Witherspoon was Princeton’s sixth president. Though he advocated revolutionary ideals of liberty and personally tutored several free Africans and African Americans in Princeton, he himself owned slaves and both lectured and voted against the abolition of slavery in New Jersey. From “John Witherspoon” by Lesa Redmond. 

Samuel Stanhope Smith studied under President Witherspoon and returned to Princeton as a professor in 1779, and succeeded Witherspoon as its seventh president in 1795. We know from a 1784 newspaper advertisement that Smith owned at least one slave during his time at Princeton, a farm hand whom Smith was keen to exchange for another slave “accustomed to cooking and waiting in a genteel family.” This preference for house slaves made its way into Smith’s Essay. There was, he insisted, a “great difference” between the facial features of “domestic and field slaves.” House slaves soon began to resemble their masters, both in their features and their conduct. This gave Smith hope that, if “admitted to a liberal participation of the society, rank and privileges of their masters, they would change their African peculiarities much faster.” Smith never abandoned the belief that white people stood at the apex of human society. He insisted that African Americans and Native Americans could become white if placed in different environments, or after intermarriage with whites. From “Samuel Stanhope Smith” by Nicholas Guyatt. 

In 1812, Princeton’s Board of Trustees unanimously elected Ashbel Green as the eighth president of the college. Ashbel Green’s “servant” John was one of three slaves who lived and worked at the President’s House (later called the Maclean House) while Green was president. In June 1813, eight months after moving to Princeton, Green wrote in his diary that he had “purchased the time of a black boy and black girl” from the executors of a recently deceased woman’s estate. The boy, John, was twelve years old at the time, and the girl, Phoebe, was nearly eighteen. Although he considered slavery an evil practice, Green did not believe immediate and universal emancipation would be either practical or beneficial—writing instead that uneducated, irreligious slaves would only “destroy themselves or others” if emancipated before they were prepared to exercise freedom. Green further believed that emancipated slaves and free-born African Americans would fare better in “the land of their ancestors” than in the United States. From “Ashbel Green” by R. Isabela Morales. 

The ancient Romans issued government decrees known as damnatio memoriae in an attempt to destroy visual depictions of emperors or public figures from inscriptions, portraits, and coins bearing their image. In like manner, should we change the names of Dickinson Hall, Edwards Hall, and Witherspoon Hall? Should we move portraits of these past Princeton Presidents from the Faculty Room of Nassau Hall (designed, incidentally, by Woodrow Wilson) to a less prominent location? Are these other former University presidents deserving of the legacy of visual immortality, although they did not believe in racial equality? Do we continue to venerate their achievements, despite their support of the institution of slavery? 

Before Princeton University goes down such a path, it should consider an additional idea. Perhaps it is time for Princeton to render to Caesar, and all other former slaves of Princeton presidents, and those that have experienced the burdens of discrimination at Princeton that which is due.  Betsey Stockton was born into slavery in Princeton at the end of the 18th century. She worked in the home of Ashbel Green. After gaining her freedom, she established a missionary school for native Hawaiian children. She later started a school for Black children in Philadelphia and taught for 30 years in the only public school in Princeton for African American children. (The Journal of Blacks in Higher Education, May 2, 2018.) One can read the full story of Betsey Stockton at https://slavery.princeton.edu/stories/betsey-stockton.

In the June 24, 2020 issue of the Princeton Alumni Weekly one finds the following: “In 2018, the Board of trustees of Princeton University voted to name a new green roof garden at the Firestone Library in her honor. In 2018, the University planted a garden between Firestone Library and Nassau Street to honor Betsey Stockton. The grasses and flowering plants serve as a green roof for the library’s B and C floors.” This is a promising development.

Congratulations to Princeton, which, like many of our educational institutions, has succumbed to the not-so irrational fear of being branded as “racist.” The trustees concluded that “Woodrow Wilson’s racist thinking and policies make him an inappropriate namesake for a school or college … This University and its school of public and international affairs must stand clearly and firmly for equality and justice. The school will now be known as ‘The Princeton School of Public and International Affairs.’”

Woodrow Wilson served two terms as president of the United States from 1913 to 1921. He has regularly been ranked by historians as one of our greatest presidents. He led the nation through the first great World War (1914-1918); created and championed the first global concept for resolution of international disputes — the League of Nations, forerunner to the United Nations; received the 1919 Nobel Peace Prize; worked tirelessly to get the U.S. to join the League (1918-1924); and added the 19th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, giving women the right to vote. These mammoth accomplishments have since been “whitewashed” by allegations that he was a proponent of segregation.

Wilson is not alone. Racist charges have been heaped on the Father of our Country, George Washington (slave ownership); Thomas Jefferson, author of the Declaration of Independence  (slave ownership); Andrew Jackson, Old Hickory and a populist president (slave ownership); Teddy Roosevelt (racist); Christopher Columbus, who never set foot on U.S. soil (racist).

Falsely charged of racism are Abraham Lincoln, Ulysses S. Grant, and Frederick Douglass, the ardent abolitionist. Even Francis Scott Key, who authored the Star-Spangled Banner, has been tagged as a racist. There are calls for a new National Anthem. Perhaps we could replace the words “Oh say can you see” with a more inclusive message, like “Oh say can we take a knee“ to show our distain for America and its flag.

Omitted from this hysteric clamor for progressive political correctness is FDR, who marched all those U.S. Japanese off to prison camps. Also exempt is civil-rights champion Lyndon Johnson, whose relationships with Black people were marred by his Southern prejudices. According to his chauffer, Robert Parker, Johnson consistently addressed him with racial epithets. 

As a 1956 graduate of the Princeton Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs, I find it puzzling that Wilson School alumni were not polled before erasing the name. Was it feared that graduates are racist and can’t be trusted to do the right thing?

I applaud the decision to rename the Wilson School and I write this as a member of the family and house that published Wilson in his lifetime, and as a tyro publisher four decades ago who commissioned the (very sympathetic) biography of Woodrow Wilson by August Heckscher, which we published 30 years ago and which many rightly consider still the finest biography of that great (if flawed) man. Renaming the Wilson School the “Princeton School” is an elegant and brilliant solution to the controversy since Princeton is a platinum name that eclipses all individuals. (I guess Harvard had the same idea for its medical, business, and law schools?)

Bravissimi!

On June 27, President Eisgruber announced that the name Woodrow Wilson is being removed from one of Princeton’s colleges and from the Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs, as a means of opposing racism. This is a cowardly act in response to a mob, and will do nothing to oppose racism. The residual racism in the country will be eliminated by creating opportunities for the less fortunate, not by 
bowing to petty demands. Opportunity begins with civil order. Safety, security, and public order are the most valuable products a government can provide; far more valuable than all the public welfare benefits and symbolic actions. Public order is true reparation.

When I was an undergraduate, Woodrow Wilson was revered for his dream of a world governed by an elite collection of intellectuals.  His racism was part of his disdain for those less “intellectual” than himself.  What is viewed as systemic racism is the tendency to associate lower academic achievement with minorities. This elitism is what Princeton should disavow. The cure to this form of racism is broadened educational opportunity, and an honest respect for those who are not “intellectuals.”

The following submission from Rep. Ken Buck ’81, R-Colo., was originally published by National Review. It is reproduced here with permission from the author.  

Princeton University’s decision to remove the name “Woodrow Wilson” from its School of Public and International Affairs is a big win for progressive activists, and the implications will extend far beyond the campus. 

It hardly surprises me, in today’s polarizing environment, that my alma mater caved to pressure from radical progressives. What is surprising, however, is that the school caved now, after resolutely standing against the pressure for so many years.

Five years ago, as part of a broader nationwide effort to rewrite American history, Princeton students mounted a campaign to remove President Woodrow Wilson’s name from the school due to his racist views and his efforts to prevent the enrollment of black students. In response, the Board of Trustees formed a committee to review the matter. The following year, the board released a report detailing how to handle President Wilson’s legacy.

The 2016 report drew this important conclusion: “the Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs and Woodrow Wilson College should retain their current names and … the University needs to be honest and forthcoming about its history. This requires transparency in recognizing Wilson’s failings and shortcomings as well as the visions and achievements that led to the naming of the school and the college in the first place.”

How refreshing — a recognition that the school should be “honest and forthcoming about its history,” and employ a sophisticated approach to reconciling Wilson’s moral failings with his accomplishments for the University.

Princeton’s own statement tacitly acknowledges the key factor here. It was not the name “Woodrow Wilson” that was under attack; history itself was the target. As we see across the nation, progressives now use Alinsky tactics on history itself. Saul Alinsky’s formula of “picking a target, freezing it, personalizing it, and finally polarizing it” is no longer reserved for living people; historical figures and even episodes in history receive the Alinsky treatment. 

Back in 1852, Daniel Webster delivered a speech to the New York Historical Society, on the importance and “dignity” of history. “The dignity of history,” he orated, “consists in reciting events with truth and accuracy.” History is unapologetic in its presentation of facts. History demands that we examine facts and incidents that make us uncomfortable. That challenges us. That inspires us. That serves as a call to action for our lives. The liberal pressure campaign is not about progress, rather, it is an attempt to erase parts of history they do not like. This is a slippery slope, as many liberal activists are even attempting to tear down statues of Abraham Lincoln, the president who ushered in the Emancipation Proclamation, freeing slaves. 

History, it turns out, is little concerned with our comfort level.

In the speech, Webster also explained that history’s main purpose is “to illustrate the general progress of society.” History and progress are inextricably linked. History tells the story of progress, and progress is possible by studying history — and, in some cases, learning from past mistakes.

What the Princeton incident reminds us of, however, is how little progressives care for progress. They are unable to recognize the progress the University has made, which the school noted in its 2016 report, in rejecting Wilson’s racist policies and championing the enrollment of black students. Former First Lady, Michelle Obama, a Princeton graduate, frequently cites her experience at Princeton as an empowering opportunity — one that was possible only through the school’s progress. 

How do we celebrate America’s accomplishments if we do not acknowledge where we started?

The Princeton name change is part of a larger movement of destruction. As Americans watch in horror and disbelief as statues, national monuments, and even war memorials are removed and defaced, we are left to wonder: What is the end goal of all of this destruction? When will it stop? 

Elihu Yale, an early benefactor of Yale University, actively participated in trading slaves, including purchasing and shipping slaves to the English colony of St. Helena. American universities are littered with this type of racism: William Marsh Rice, the Lowell family of Boston, Thomas Jefferson, and Jesuit priests in Maryland all used the profits derived from slave labor to build some of the most prestigious universities in the country. Will tearing down these institutions achieve progressives’ goal?

Moreover, will changing a college’s name or removing the statue of a Founding Father change a Klansman’s deeply held racist beliefs? Will erasing certain books and movies from our public lexicon truly change the hate in someone’s soul? These changes may appease progressives for now, but their goal is much larger.

In my forthcoming book, The Capitol of Freedom: Restoring American Greatness, I explore this very topic. Progressives are determined to destroy not just statues, but historical memories, because they know American history is incompatible with their goals. America’s founding documents, and even the stories behind the statues in the U.S. Capitol building tell the story of American greatness and offer a roadmap for us to renew our commitment to our founding principles.

Slavery is a dreadful part of our history. Despite what progressives say, the abolition of slavery occurred because of, not in spite of, our history and foundation. A nation that was formed with liberty as the chief objective of government was on the right path. The 19th century improved what the 18th century got horribly wrong and the 20th century continued to build upon the 19th century’s advancements. With each century that passes, we move toward a more perfect union. That is progress. 

From its founding, our nation’s history is the story of individual freedom and personal responsibility, with limited government as a means for accomplishing both. Our Constitution simultaneously protects individual liberty and thwarts the progressive agenda. Progressives are constantly frustrated in their attempts to remake America into a socialist and godless society because of our Constitution. Is it any wonder that they devote so much of their energy to undermining, subverting, and circumventing the Constitution? 

Progressives know that what can be erased can be replaced. Knocking down statues and removing names of institutions are the necessary first step in reshaping America’s future. 

For Americans hoping to stop the progressives’ destruction, Princeton provides the answer. No, not the Princeton of 2020 with its disappointing decision to abandon Woodrow Wilson’s name, but the Princeton of 2016 that recognized the importance of being truthful about our history. 

In our fight against the progressive agenda, our history is not only what we seek to protect — it is also our primary weapon. 

The decision of the Princeton Board of Trustees to remove Woodrow Wilson’s name from the school after many decades is an unfortunate instance of the Board failing to exhibit some backbone in order to placate short term passions on the campus. A better model for the board is the response of the Chancellor of Oxford when confronted by Black Rhodes scholars pressing for the removal of Rhodes’ statue on the grounds that Rhodes was a racist. The Chancellor rejected the request saying, “Our history is not a blank page on which we can write our own version of what it should have been according to contemporary views. If we remove the Rhodes statue on the premise he wasn’t perfect, where would we stop?”

There is a substantial record of Wilson’s contribution to our country’s domestic reforms and international peace, certainly enough to justify earlier boards naming the school after him. This board has now indulged itself in retroactive judgment-making to satisfy current fashion. I reject this form of revisionism — it will  change nothing but surely disturbs the many Wilson School graduates like myself who have for years been proud of the association with  Wilson and have no intention of modifying our CVs to placate current whim. 

Were he still alive, your esteemed alumnus, my father, former U.S. Attorney General Nicholas de B. Katzenbach, would have noted the decision to remove the name “Woodrow Wilson” from the Princeton School for Public and International Affairs with a combination of recognition of the importance of the gesture, and concern that symbolic gestures by whites are never enough to fulfill the democratic standard to which he held himself, and all whites, in the ongoing struggle for racial equality and justice for all.

He believed it was the civic responsibility of whites to use our white privilege to redress the long sin of 400 years of slavery, and make Black Lives Matter. Democracy demanded nothing less from us. A practical realist, he also believed that the Civil Rights Act and Voting Rights Act would only work long term if whites tirelessly enforced them. Recent horrific events have proved his pragmatic realism tragically correct.

The son of an educator, he would have hoped that those same horrific events would inspire Princeton to take the curriculum changes and commitment to authentic racial (and gender) equity in faculty and students, already underway, deeper and further, till the work of healing this nation, and earning the right to call ourselves a democracy, is, finally, done.

Although the trustees must have observed due process in the matter, it looks like a summary execution. I admit that I have not made it my business to know more about Wilson’s tenure at Princeton and will try to make up for that soon. The trustees did not provide much to the public either.

We cannot erase history with a committee vote or the swipe of a pen. Wilson was a real person who presided over Princeton at a difficult time in history. I hope the trustees intend to give us more information about Wilson and their decision.

Editor’s note: A story about scholars’ views of Wilson’s legacy was published in PAW’s Feb. 3, 2016, issue. Click here to read more.

Earlier this year, I was gifted a copy of The Best of the PAW, a hard cover book published in 2000.

J.I. Merritt ’66, its editor, along with his selection committee did a splendid job in “compiling articles on the history, culture, and traditions of Princeton University.”

As one alumnus (amongst many, I would think) who does not approve of the recent decision to de-Wilsonize the School of Public and International Affairs, I submit what is printed on Page 223, from a May 9, 1947, article on the naming of the school:

… Top priority has been assigned by Princeton University’s Third Century Fund Committee to the financial objective of an enlarged and strengthened School of Public and International Affairs, which will be named as a lasting memorial to President Woodrow Wilson. …

A “lasting memorial” should be lasting! Princeton trustees should take note!

It worries me that the current taking away/destroying/removing past memorials could be enlarged to removing more memorial statues and plaques, names on sports trophies, buildings et al of men/women who later in life displease some citizens for some reason having nothing to do with his/her name being engraved on the physical item.

As a former graduate student of the Woodrow Wilson School, I am concerned with the action to remove Woodrow Wilson’s name. I remember Wilson as a president, Nobel Prize winner, and one who promoted free trade, democracy, and human rights. As noted, Wilson remade Princeton into a great research institution. It appears to me the Board of Trustees has succumbed to the current left-wing cultural revolution against traditional American values. This includes the destruction or proposed destruction of statues of our founding fathers, many of whom were slave owners (a common practice at that time that eventually led to the Civil War). As noted by Baher Iskander in his Wall Street Journal article of July 7, 2020:

“While I recognize the importance of challenging simple narratives of heroism, equally simplistic stories of villainy are no better.  Erasing Wilson’s name and taking down his large photograph from Princeton’s dining hall evinces an unjustified sense of self-righteous certitude.”  

The removal of Wilson’s name does not enhance the reputation of Princeton but rather shows that it is an active participant with those who focus only on eliminating the great historical figures of America.

I am very happy Princeton made the decision to remove Woodrow Wilson’s name to some degree. However, I am disappointed that Princeton decided in could not rename the Woodrow Wilson Award, Princeton’s most important undergraduate honor, because it was a gift. (Can’t we give it back? Why not re-gift it to Yale?)

Princeton should aggressively attack systemic racism — and sexism. I expect the number of deaths from domestic violence far exceed the number of individuals who are murdered by police. Women in our society (including I expect those at Princeton) are systematically subject to sexual discrimination, harassment, and sexual assault. Any meaningful attempt to correct these horrible systemic plagues should include both.

Let’s keep score on where Princeton is and where it is going by annually publishing actual numbers by race (African American, Asian, Latino, Native American, Other and White) and sex. I suggest:

• Trustees
• Chairs of Trustee Committees (it is one thing to put them on the board and another to provide real power)
• Tenured faculty
• Untenured faculty
• Senior administration officials
• PRINCO Board of Directors (can’t wait to see this one)
• Divide by salary ranges for all employees of Princeton.

I close with observations about Native Americans.  As with African Americans, their story also lasts for 400 years. Our national policy has gone from genocide to apartheid as we trap them in horrific conditions on reservations.

I have recently learned that Princeton intends to remove the name of Woodrow Wilson from its School of Public and International Affairs, and wish to express my disapproval of this decision of the Board of Trustees.

During my junior and senior years at Princeton, I was chairman of the Wilson Society, a non-selective residential association of undergraduates and faculty fellows that had been created several years earlier as an alternative to the selective eating clubs to encourage diversity in its members. My leadership of this organization was my proudest achievement at Princeton, because the success of the Wilson Society led to important changes in social life at the University and the creation of the residential colleges. I remain fully committed to diversity and inclusion in my life and broader society, and enthusiastically support Black Lives Matter today.

Woodrow Wilson was a very imperfect man who espoused some very unfortunate racist beliefs and policies in his life as a public servant. His name was chosen for the Wilson School in recognition of his service as 13th president of Princeton and his achievements as President of the United States, especially his role advocating the League of Nations after World War I.

How far are we willing to go to damn the memory of imperfect leaders? Thomas Jefferson not only owned slaves, but fathered at least six children with his slave Sally Hemings. #Metoo should be demanding that the Jefferson memorial in Washington be renamed, citing the power differential between owner and slave. Franklin D. Roosevelt approved of the internment of Japanese citizens in concentration camps during World War II. Are these crimes not far worse than Wilson’s policies?

Illiberal Puritanism has taken hold of too much “liberal” thinking on our campuses today, and needs to be challenged vigorously. There is much selective outrage, inconsistency, and hypocrisy to be found. Freud once said that a man and his creation are not the same thing, and we would do well to remember this as we evaluate, criticize, and appreciate the creations and achievements of deeply flawed individuals. 

Wilson’s name and achievements should be remembered and respected, along with those of Jefferson and Roosevelt.

Speaking as a former resident of Wilson College, a graduate of what was the Woodrow Wilson School, but also a member of an old abolitionist Hoosier family, I could not be more pleased at Princeton finally so awakening to the ignominy of Woodrow Wilson’s name as to remove it from places of honor. 

Wilson’s racism should not so long have been dismissed by Princeton as those “of his time.” That is an insult to other men and women, also of his time, of greater character than he. 

For instance, I think of my great grandfather, Maurice Douglas, a farmer, a businessman, and an Indiana State Senator who was then loudly opposing the Ku Klux Klan as it was becoming a major power in our state. A delegation came to him to ask him to run for governor with the condition that he drop his opposition to the Klan, which he declined to do. His opposition to the Klan was also the basis of his defeat in a run for Congress. 

Woodrow Wilson was not just a lesser man who achieved high office, fame, and honors by doing that which better people of his time declined to do; he was a leader in driving his own day backward.  

Meanwhile, men and women like Maurice Douglas die unknown to history not because at defining moments swimming against some tide they weren’t of greater character, but precisely because they were.  

In light of the soul-searching the nation and University have conducted in its investigation of Woodrow Wilson’s racist legacy, every statue and building name on campus deserves the same examination. It is a privilege to have a building named for you on the hallowed campus of Princeton. Not everyone — not even Woodrow Wilson himself — automatically qualifies. Not by dint of power, political or financial. 

As an architect with institutional clients that are dependent on bequests for capital building campaigns, the question of donor naming ethics has repeatedly arisen in our practice. While some gifts are given in the name of saintly community leaders, institutions often have us add multiple design features to entice an additional naming contribution.

Immortalization is the operative concept in the previous sentence. Civic buildings use sturdy materials to ensure they last more than 100 years. Why do donors expect their significant, timely contribution to last beyond the life of the building’s intended purpose? With each remodel, renovation, or expansion, the original gift effectively recedes back into history.

Donors have a right to be recognized for their outstanding gifts, but for how long? To stipulate that a condition for a gift is that its building bear a family name in perpetuity ignores the nature of posterity. Life changes, institutions change, and so must their recognition of generosity. It also ties Princeton’s hands behind its backs when it pursues avenues of expansion, as it does from time to time.

Certain criteria should determine whether or not a donor’s or luminary’s name deserves a place on every Princeton map — and they don’t solely include money given. One is demonstrated character (or alleged criminality, like the Sacklers’ opioid buildings at Harvard) and the other is demonstration over their lifetime of exemplifying Princeton’s values. If a Nobel winner is deemed unworthy of a name on campus, surely cosmetics magnates and Internet commerce tycoons with questionable scruples should be similarly vetted before the University lends its endorsement to the donors’ life’s work.

Why not name campus buildings for valedictorians, USG officers, Theatre Intime founders? Their most likely transgressions are binge drinking on The Street. If they go on to disgrace the University after graduation, a stable of worthy candidates stand poised to land their name on a building on the map.

All that said, maps benefit from stability and predictability the way buildings benefit from stolidity. All the more reason to examine with a fine tooth comb the potential building namesakes before they receive this enormous stamp of approval of their family’s and life’s legacy on Princeton’s glorious campus.

When a donor bequeathed a generous gift, they should not expect a naming plaque in return — they should expect the same sort of scrutiny that all applicants receive when trying to get into the freshman class of Princeton University. It is the ultimate privilege and honor, and we have the chance to rewrite history from the ground up, including our whole community, based on character and ethics.

As an undergraduate in the 1950s, I happily accepted the message of “Princeton in the nation’s service,” and linked it to the image of Woodrow Wilson as a committed public servant and advocate for international cooperation. Anticipating a career in law or public service, I was proud to be major in the Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs. I also became aware that Princeton was regarded as “the most Southern” of the Ivy League schools and was forced to acknowledge the anti-Semitic and racist nature of campus culture during the 1958 rebellion against the 100-percent bicker system.

At the time, I did not think of Wilson as actively racist, but rather simply as a man of his place (Virginia) and time. Over the last few years, however, the University’s dedicated exploration of its connections to slavery and its posture on civil rights and race relations has exposed Wilson’s deliberate efforts as president to enforce segregation in the federal civil service and otherwise to suppress minority rights. In light of these revelations, I strongly support the decision to remove his name from campus structures. Let us hope that the nation comes to see, instead, today’s Princeton as reflected in the service of Michelle Obama ’85 and Anthony Romero ’87.

The great university that Princeton is today was initiated by Woodrow Wilson. Our administration and Trustees owe him that respect. He was also an esteemed president of the United States pushing for what would now be the United Nations. Woodrow Wilson’s name has enhanced the reputation of Princeton. 

As a saying in the Bible about punishing a sinner says, “Let he without sin throw the first stone.” Wilson may have had a sin but who among our leaders are without similar sins?             

Do we really now think that Harvard’s Kennedy School will strike the Kennedy name because of his serial sexual exploits? Or that Stanford will change its name because of his intercontinental railroads’ abuse of Chinese immigrant workers? I doubt it.

Instead of thoughtful, intelligent analysis becoming of a great university our leaders have instantly swung in the wind of the most recent social trend.

I am simultaneously outraged and saddened. This decision will distinctly harm the University.

I am embarrassed for our administration and trustees. 

An open letter to President Eisgruber:

Your message announcing the decision of the Board of Trustees and the administration just arrived (June 27). I am profoundly offended by this decision and the lack of fortitude demonstrated by the current University administration. I always believed that Princeton had more courage than to follow the herds of apologists for a national tragedy that occurred so long ago. It is one thing to acknowledge the dark side of American history. It is another thing to revise it and erase the names of the people who made that history. 

The decision to erase Woodrow Wilson’s name from the school of public policy is also the height of hypocrisy. Will Princeton also dissociate itself from James Madison, a slave owner? What about Archibald Alexander (Alexander Hall), whose father was a Virginia planter and undoubtedly owned slaves?

Most of all, what about the anti-Semites Princeton has spawned or honored like F. Scott Fitzgerald (see Meyer Wolfsheim in The Great Gatsby), Breckinridge Long (proponent of the delayed U.S. response to the Holocaust), and, significantly, James Forrestal (virulent opponent of the establishment of the Jewish State after the Holocaust) after whom an entire University campus is named. And then there is Harvey Firestone whose name adorns Princeton’s world famous library. Here is what one author had to say about him and the notorious Jew-hater, Henry Ford:

“Neil Baldwin, author of Henry Ford and the Jews, recalls that Ford, inventor Thomas Edison and tire magnet Harvey Firestone used to go on motor-car expeditions to the hills of Appalachia and New England. Around their campfires, berating the Jews was a frequent practice. It was, as well, when pioneering aviator Charles Lindbergh and Ford became buddies.”

President Eisgruber, you yourself are Jewish halachically and by choice. Should Princeton also dissociate itself from these prominent but misguided men? As a former president of Princeton’s Hillel Foundation (1972-74), I might have standing to make such a request. In my day it was enough that Princeton dropped its numerus clausus for Jews especially from the Northeast. Still, I would not dare make such a request to revise the history of my alma mater by striking the names of these gentlemen and many more who I have not mentioned, as you and the Board of Trustees have done to Woodrow Wilson. 

Let it be known that I am an active Republican and no great admirer of some of President Wilson’s policies let alone his despicable segregationist views, but as you mentioned he transformed Princeton and shaped the future of our nation and the world. He appointed the first Jew, Louis Brandeis, to the U.S. Supreme Court. Indeed, were it not for the Allied victory in World War I, for which Wilson is largely responsible, the State of Israel where I have made my home for the last 34 years would likely never have been born.

The stain of slavery is forever imprinted on the American experience. As a nation, we were able to put an end to this horrible institution through civil war and through our constitutional institutions. We must, of course, acknowledge the evil of slavery and work to obliterate its deleterious aftermath. As a nation, we have done a commendable job, although the work is not yet complete. Having said this, it is not necessary to purge the names and monuments to men like Woodrow Wilson and the anti-Semites mentioned above from our memory and from the memory of our progeny. To the contrary, when our children ask who Woodrow Wilson and these others were, we must remember to tell them the whole story: their achievements and their failures. That is what I would have expected of a great university like Princeton.

Renaming the Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs and Wilson College was, I think, a mistake. Wilson was a great man, who made great contributions to Princeton, New Jersey, the nation, and the world. His views and actions on race were deplorable, and for these he is justly criticized. But so were those of Jefferson. This fault does not negate their virtues and achievements, and for these they are properly honored.

Few would quibble with removal of the name of Woodrow Wilson from the school and other public inscriptions of his name at the University in light of his prejudicial remarks and writings. I would propose an interim solution: As his wife Edith Wilson was the tacit U.S. president during his final post-stroke year in office, and as Mrs. Wilson had remained steadfast in ties to Princeton for decades thereafter — I had been privileged to shake her hand when she came to campus as guest of honor at a major on-campus convocation in 1953 — I would propose changing the name of the school from Woodrow to Edith Wilson immediately, on an interim basis, until such a time as a permanent name can be approved, either to hers or other’s. This would recognize her signal commitment supporting the University, her role as tacit U.S. president 1919-20, and her unique part carrying out the highest U.S. governmental role by a woman in American history, that at a critical postwar time to work to achieve lasting peace. (You may know that on the 2300 block of S St. NW in Washington, D.C., her home till her death in the 1960s, is now a museum.)

More research on names and backgrounds is clearly needed. But though Woodrow was a racist, I have yet to encounter any prejudicial statements attributed to Edith. 

I find the decision to remove the name of Woodrow Wilson both appalling and hysterical. This irrational decision erodes the legacy of Wilson as the architect of Princeton as the modern university we have come to recognize as a world-class institution. Prior to the arrival of Wilson, the “College of New Jersey” enjoyed the status of a small liberal arts college in suburban-rural New Jersey, and the College was regularly the object of derision among American higher education. Wilson curtailed the influence of the Presbyterian clergy that had hitherto dominated University affairs. It was also Wilson, along with his predecessor James McCosh, who transformed the “College of New Jersey” into the Princeton we currently know, by enacting reforms and programs that enhanced the quality of a Princeton education, and thereby creating the Ivy League institution as we know it. If not for Wilson, the “University” very well could have remained a liberal arts institution, akin in contemporary terms to other elite though regional colleges, but by no means the peer of Harvard, Yale, Stanford, Columbia, Chicago, MIT, and the like. 

Therefore, before we acid-wash the name of Wilson from the campus and the communal memory, I ask all alumni to reflect on the degree to which Princeton has shaped their identity, the extent to which the Princeton-name has procured opportunities for them, and all those occasions on which he or she has invoked the name “Princeton” to his or her professional, social, or economic benefit — and fully realize that this privilege and status owes to the accomplishments of Woodrow Wilson. After all, we could have been graduates of the College of New Jersey, at Princeton, instead of Princeton University. For all those disturbed by the Woodrow Wilson name, perhaps they should renounce their Princeton degrees to adequately demonstrate their dedication to social justice, lest they continue to associate themselves with an institution crafted, shaped, and operated in the shadow of Woodrow Wilson. While you’re at it, abolish the Graduate College, which Wilson championed over the objections of the Trustees and alumni. Let’s revert to the College of New Jersey! That’s the only logical conclusion.  

Apropos the decision by President Eisgruber and the Board of Trustees that they are removing the name of his predecessor, President Woodrow Wilson, from both the Wilson School and Wilson College, some comments other than fervent approval or equally fervent regret are perhaps in order. There were always conservatives in the northeast and the midwest who hated Wilson for his internationalism, and if any still exist, they may applaud the decision on that account, if not the racial one. There are clearly pros and cons to removing the name of an historic personage, and whether one agrees with it or not, it is reasonable to treat it as a naming opportunity. The losses in Annual Giving that will doubtless result from the announcement must be made up somehow.

President Eisgruber may wish, conditions in the automobile industry permitting, to approach the Ford family and suggest that that in return for a suitable donation Princeton should name something after Henry Ford. I always though it ironic that that my Ph.D. thesis adviser at Yale, a genuine communist, was the Henry Ford II professor. Here at least we have a rational basis. Alumni will recall, though I fear future students will not know, that Henry Ford was the man who said, “History is bunk.”

As a 1977 graduate who majored in the Woodrow Wilson School, I applaud the timely, thoughtful but difficult decision by the Board of Trustees to remove Woodrow Wilson‘s name from the school of public affairs and from a residential college. An unbiased observer of history would conclude that Wilson, his personal opinions on race and related institutional policies as a leader, were and remain antithetical to our standard of “Princeton in the Nation’s Service, and in the Service of All Nations.”

Among other things, Wilson’s personnel policies as 28th U.S. president, and their aftermath, wrongfully and irreparably excluded untold numbers of American citizens from public sector employment for which they were well qualified, solely because of the color of their skin. These individuals included members of my immediate family who risked life and limb in honorable military service during both World Wars, in theaters of combat. In light of this troubling history, honoring Wilson as Princeton has in the past smacks of Oxford English Dictionary definitions of “hypocrisy.” Change finally has arrived.  

Former Art 101 students may recall the spectacular yet somber room of Water Lilies (Nymphéas) at Musée de l’Orangerie in Paris, which Claude Monet envisioned, painted and donated to the French State to help her people heal from the devastation of “The War To End All Wars,” during which Wilson led our nation.  Princeton may one day consider creating a similar memorial where his life can be viewed with probity, balance, and without malice; a solemn space to reflect on our society’s transgressions; a place to help this and future generations learn about, and discover solutions to address, the continuing impact of American racism on her people and institutions.

I will continue “going back to Nassau Hall” for Reunions, not only to march proudly in the P-rade but also to witness how alma mater chooses to include Wilson’s accomplishments and legacy in her future. Toward such goals, the Princeton University community will have my support.

The members of the Board of Trustees of Princeton University have grievously erred in removing the name of Woodrow Wilson from the School of Public Policy and International Affairs. They have inappropriately applied our own contemporary racial beliefs to their judgment of a great man born in the American South in 1856. Instead, they should have simply restated the inviolable tenets of our present egalitarian Princetonian culture and noted the simple fact that no country chooses its history. They should have told the young students whose education is their responsibility that the world is full of unpleasantness, conflict and complexity and that the University does not owe them a place where they can always feel “safe”; rather the University owes them an opportunity to exchange ideas, gain perspective and stand fearless in their conviction that they can help make the world a better place.

Professor Woodrow Wilson was elected president of Princeton University in 1902 by the contemporary Board of Trustees and instituted for the first time a system of core academic requirements. He created the preceptorial system, appointed the first Jew and the first Roman Catholic to the faculty, and laid the foundation for both the college system and the Graduate School at Princeton. His fundraising skills secured the financial stability of the University for generations. A progressive Democrat, Woodrow Wilson was elected governor of New Jersey by his contemporary fellow New Jerseyans in 1910. As governor, he passed laws that restricted child labor and improved factory working conditions and signed a series of famous antitrust bills.

In 1912, his contemporary fellow American citizens elected him in a landslide victory to the presidency of the United States, the first Southerner to win a presidential election since the Civil War. As U.S. President, he fought to prohibit child labor, introduced safeguards for female workers, and advocated for a minimum wage for all work performed by or for the federal government. Initially reluctant to enter the war, Wilson led the United States to decisive victory in World War I, at the conclusion of which he called for the creation of the League of Nations — the precursor to the United Nations. 

Prior to and during Woodrow Wilson’s time at Princeton, Black Americans were not admitted as students; this was presumably consistent with the wishes of the contemporary Boards of Trustees of Princeton University. Woodrow Wilson fought and won the first World War with a racially segregated U.S. military; the same is true of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, another great Democratic president, in his victory over Nazi tyranny in WWII a generation later. The road outside the Princeton University School of Public Policy is called Washington Road. General George Washington encamped the Continental Army on Cannon Green during the Revolutionary War. His army was racially segregated and he personally owned slaves, as did several other Founding Fathers. Shall we now remove the name of George Washington from that road, from our beloved campus, from our national currency and our national monuments in a frenzied, unhinged orgy of self-excoriation?

Race relations in America have been tortured since the birth of our nation and progress towards true equality has been agonizingly slow. However, attempting to obliterate our own history will not improve that progress.

No nation chooses its history. We, the living, are responsible for the present and for building a better future.

While I understand the need to rename the Woodrow Wilson School and Wilson College, I am dismayed by President Eisgruber’s dismissal of Robert E. Lee as a racist, and comparing Wilson favorably to him. President Lincoln thought enough of Lee to offer him command of the Union army, which as a Virginian, he felt compelled to refuse. Returning to one’s home and family in time of war is a natural and human reaction, and it is a matter of historical record that Lee was brokenhearted at the dissolution of the Union. One cannot help being born into a particular time, place or socioeconomic standing. Nor can one hope to live up to the standards or mores of a future time or society. By any measure Lee was an honorable and a good man, and after his surrender at Appomattox, when asked by some of his men whether they should continue to fight for the Southern cause, he urged them to stand down, as all that mattered to him at that point was the healing of the nation. 

I would suggest that while attempting to right the wrongs of the past, we hesitate before judging our forefathers by the standards of our own time. 

My wife just informed me that she heard on PBS that Princeton had dropped the Woodrow Wilson name.  Good for you!

Back in the late 1950s, I visited Princeton to consult with my dissertation adviser. On my way out of town, my progress was much delayed by Fidel Castro’s arrival to talk at the Woodrow Wilson School.

May I suggest that the School be renamed after that distinguished visitor from long ago. Or has my suggestion arrived too late?

I can live with disappointment.

Following an atypical and probably unique pattern, I transferred in the fall of 1959 into the Princeton Class of 1961 from Union University in Jackson, Tennessee, as a junior-level English major, whereupon I joined the newly established Wilson Lodge because it seemed to me to offer the most inclusive and non-discriminatory context for living as a Princeton undergraduate during my junior and senior years. At the time, without being deeply intrenched in the school’s history of eating clubs, I was grateful to my 1961 classmates for having made this option an alternative for me and for others in the future. Aware as I am now of the ironies inherent in the fact that the most liberating option on campus in 1959 for an upper-level student was a society named “Wilson Lodge,” bearing the name of an avowed racist, I fully support the University’s decision to dissociate itself as much as possible from Wilson’s reactionary policies. Time moves on. We gain perspectives on ourselves and society and what is right, and we keep trying to do better than we did in “our salad days,” when we were “green in judgment.”