There are reliable rhythms to the academic year: New and returning students energize the campus each fall, the winter (at least in Minnesota!) finds everyone hunkered down in a slog, and, as the trees bloom and the days lengthen, we rush to a conclusion full of senior banquets and no-longer-extendable paper deadlines. It’s predictable and even comforting.
Of course, there’s another annual spring ritual to be observed: largely avoidable controversies over invitations to commencement speakers and the granting of honorary degrees, often spiced with self-righteous remarks and performative gestures by individuals who were given a few minutes at the speaker’s podium for quite different purposes.
As the expected litany of outrage once again unrolls, one has to ask: Why do we make the same mistakes year after year and open ourselves to the same political crossfire? Are there no lessons to be drawn to avoid stepping into this obvious manure pile? In fact, such lessons exist and ought to be followed.
The first such lesson is that awarding an honorary degree amounts to the university’s implicit endorsement or approval of the recipient. Much the same could be said for handing over the podium for the principal address at an academic ceremony that marks and celebrates students’ scholastic achievements. Bestowing the university’s imprimatur in these ways is one form of an institutional “stance”—not entirely different from taking an official position on a political, economic, moral or social issue. And taking institutional stances is a very tricky business.
Lesson number two—and the best way of navigating those tricky shoals—is to remember that the university should remain ever faithful to its highest values with a sustained focus on its fundamental purpose. It should also adhere to its side of the mutually beneficial social compact with the larger host society. Rolling these principles together, an academic institution should ordinarily decline to take stances on public disputes that are not necessitated by the pursuit of its mission. I think of this as conscious reticence rather than neutrality, because universities are not neutral about their core objectives and needs.
Lesson three—perhaps a controversial and disruptive one—follows directly from its predecessors. Granting degrees is meant to certify learning and other forms of intellectual attainment. It goes to the heart of the institution’s mission. Forthrightly examining the reasons for awarding honorary degrees should lead us in a new direction. If an honorary degree is bestowed for scholarly attainment, this is a clear academic decision—and an appropriate institutional act.
But if instead the degree is being granted for nonacademic professional distinction (e.g., a record-setting athlete), for government or humanitarian work, or for philanthropy (including support of the grantor institution), then the honor is not really about education and is, at best, only tangentially related to the institution’s mission. We should decouple the act of recognizing and/or expressing gratitude from the conferral of a degree. The practice of using honorary degrees as a carrot to attract commencement speakers is particularly problematic. The most principled position would be to award honorary degrees only for academic and educational achievements, as is the custom at the University of Chicago.
Lesson four poses a question: Is it wrong to invite a prominent person to speak at commencement without giving them a degree? No. But it may still be unwise, as it diverts attention away from the true purpose and meaning of the academic ceremony and from the graduates and their loved ones who ought to be at the center of the day.
To be sure, awarding a prominent guest a nonacademic honorary degree or having them speak at commencement can advance institutional interests. It can generate publicity and excitement by linking the institution with the achievements and fame of the honoree. Seeing them on the platform and hearing them speak adds color and pageantry to commencement and can delight the audience.
Likewise, saluting prior philanthropy by the honoree is a powerful way to encourage further giving—both by the recipient and others who are inspired by their example. These are entirely legitimate goals for an institution to pursue. But universities can easily honor distinguished persons and cherished friends of the institution in alternative ways, like giving them a prestigious medal or prize. Ideally not at commencement, though.
Lessons five and six both concern legally and academically acceptable safeguards against maverick speakers—most likely faculty or students who cannot resist the temptation to make full use of the literal platform the institution has provided to advance their favored cause.
The fifth lesson, dear to higher education, is that both First Amendment mandates (applicable at public colleges and universities) and genuine institutional commitments to academic freedom (applicable at most private institutions—and which overlap but do not coincide with constitutional free speech) typically provide considerable leeway for such discourse. Protest is a form of protected speech. And from a purely practical standpoint, there is little to be gained on most campuses by making anyone into a free speech/academic freedom martyr.
While I appreciate the intensity of the pressure on university leaders to levy consequential punishments on ill-mannered protesters, the long-term interests of higher education are better served—and institutions will hew more closely to their highest values—by absorbing the pain. Perhaps some solace may be found in the fact that many audience members will never hear, care, nor long remember what seemed to some listeners like a serious affront. So, best to keep most institutionally embarrassing speech in perspective. Genuine protest disruptions of a graduation ceremony, of course, are a different matter.
That said, a sixth and final lesson is that all speakers should understand—or be taught!—that their time at the lectern is a privilege and that their remarks and conduct, even if intended to be personal, may nevertheless be attributed by many listeners to the university that is sponsoring the event and giving them a microphone. Therefore, it is not unreasonable for the institution to insist upon preclearance of any remarks and adherence to what was promised to be said. Honesty and honor—qualities we should instill in our students and expect of our faculty—demand no less. And the vast majority of speakers will rise to the occasion. In an extreme case, disciplinary sanctions could be pursued. But it’s far wiser for university leadership to use the voice of the institution to dissociate itself from, counteract and even criticize truly irresponsible or harmful speech or actions.
Institutions that learn and stick to these lessons will keep their attention on the right audience of graduates, their families and friends, and thus will be much more likely to pull off a joyous and meaningful—albeit less notorious!—conclusion to the year.
Steven Poskanzer is professor of political science and president emeritus of Carleton College. He is author of The University’s Voice: Principled Silence and Purposeful Speech (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2025).
