This is What Excellence Looks Like 

Inauguration Address
Rutgers, The State University of New Jersey 

November 5, 2021 

It is a great honor to stand before you today. As I have learned over the course of my eighteen months in the office, this honor does not come freely, nor does it come without its difficulties. It has been, to be politic, a challenge to step into this office in the middle of a global pandemic and in an age of profound social reckoning. And yet I stand before you gladly, having seen the excellence already embodied in Rutgers, and eager to do everything in my power to amplify that excellence and to elevate and guide what is already one of the finest public research universities in the world.

What we are and what we may yet be—both viewed through a consideration of our excellence—are the subjects of today's talk.

Before I engage that conversation, though, some words of appreciation. I want to thank the Board of Governors for inviting me to this position and I want to thank the Board of Trustees for its advice and consent regarding that invitation. A special thanks goes to Mark Angelson, Chair of the Board of Governors, for his abiding support and his friendship. I am grateful for both.

On the personal front, I thank my family. Of special mention are my parents-in-law, Angel and Patricia Colón, who are here today; and my parents, Wendell and Kay Holloway, who are here today, too, but in a way that only I can see. I thank my children, Emerson and Ellison, who are the only people in the world who can call me "dad," an honor I hold dear. And then there is my best friend, Aisling Colón. The words have not yet been invented that accurately describe what I owe her and what she means to me. I am grateful that she understands the indescribable.

I thank everyone in the Rutgers community who has welcomed me with warmth and enthusiasm: faculty, staff, students, university leadership, alumni, and local, state, and federal officials. I offer a special thanks to all who made today possible: the Inaugural Steering Committee and subcommittees, the Office of the Secretary, the Rutgers Foundation staff, the dining service and facility workers, delivery drivers, RUPD, and volunteers. Without diminishing my appreciation of the foregoing, there are some people whose names must be spoken for their contributions to my personal and professional life. Those who have kept me and my family safe, sound, and fed: Irma Olvera, Kurt Benson, Ross Jones, Bryant Myers, Russ Scortino, Borus, Susan DiMaio, Peter Imranyi, Peter Blake, Mounia Zouhir, Bahija Chafai, Victor Beckly, Willus Bradford, Timothy Jackson, Tunde Otunbaloye, and Roy Sutton; those who have kept me in touch with our far-flung digital world: Roger Williams, Ed Kenny, and Mark Billich; those who have helped me tell Rutgers' story: Hébert Peck, Larry McAllister, Nick Romanenko, Deb Andriano, Neal Bennett, Randy Cangre, Lisa Intrabatola, Kevin Lorincz, John Munson, Holland Paley, Carissa Sestito, Phil Shvartsman, Jillian Yarznbowicz, and Ted Yasi; and those who start my day right and keep me straight, most particularly, Tamiya Reid and Doris Barron. This list is not comprehensive, and I apologize to those I've failed to mention, but I wanted to call attention to people whose contributions often go unrecognized and yet whose work is vital to the entire enterprise. Their dedication is not lost on me, and it should not be lost on you either.

When I think about the work of this place and the people whose labor shapes it, I am drawn back to my first months of graduate school when I had the opportunity to hear A. Leon Higginbotham give a keynote address at a meeting of the Ford Foundation Fellows. Higginbotham, a major civil rights advocate, had just been appointed Chief Judge of the United States Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit, and he held us in thrall as he documented the decades of civil rights legal work that eventually desegregated public education and opened the doors through which everyone in his audience had entered.

The audience, it is important to know, comprised 250 current and former fellows: graduate students, postdocs, and faculty—all from underrepresented groups—who were supported by the Ford Foundation. Whether we already knew the legal history that Higginbotham presented or not, there were two things about his speech that were particularly memorable. The first was the metaphor that he used to frame his story: he likened the quest for racial justice in education to the building of a cathedral. In this way it was the kind of work that would take generations to realize and, as such, it was a project whose earliest laborers would never see to completion. The work continued, though, because there was a powerful faith that the final goal—that grand cathedral—would serve as a beacon to all who cared about justice and equity and enlightenment.

That was the first of two abiding memories from that speech. The second was far more dramatic.

As Higginbotham neared the conclusion of his speech, as his baritone rose toward a rhetorical flourish, an earthquake hit. The room, already silent, somehow became quieter before spasms of anxiety started to course through the audience. Higginbotham, a true professional, calmed the crowd immediately with his humor by saying, "I knew I was good, but not that good."

We would find out later that we were only a few miles from the quake's epicenter and that we were fortunate to be in a new building that was designed for just this sort of event. That was all reassuring, but at the evening's reception we could not help but wonder what would have happened if we had been meeting in a building that wasn’t up to code or if the earthquake was stronger. It did not take much to envision an entire generation of black and brown scholars and future administrators being wiped out. Was this dramatic of us? Of course. Was it an unrealistic statement? Well… had that building collapsed, I wouldn't be here. Dwight McBride, the president of The New School wouldn't be here. Raúl Ramos, the former head of the Faculty Senate at the University of Houston wouldn't be here, and so on. Thirty-one years of scholarship, teaching, advising, and mentoring would be gone.

Yes, Higginbotham was right, the work of changing higher education was a decades-long project—and that work continues. But one thing that those of us in the audience failed to understand until the earthquake hit is that while a cathedral may be built of the most durable materials it requires constant maintenance and is, in fact, fragile.

I believe in looking at the work before us as akin to the building of that metaphorical cathedral. I believe that as we go about our daily work we must always honor those who came before us, who also worked on this structure, and whose names may be lost to history. I believe that we must remain vigilant, aware that at any moment something can come along that could stress its walls, that could compromise its roof, or that could crack its foundation.

When I think about this moment in our national culture and the state of higher education it occurs to me that threats to the cathedral are coming from many different directions and all at once. We hear too often reports about higher education's failures, its high costs, its irrelevance to a changing marketplace, and its left-wing liberal agenda. The nihilism that is endemic to our socially mediated narratives has now taken root in our imagination. Our daily news cycles have left us with a national rhetoric about politics, knowledge, citizenship, and service that seems to take delight in mocking efforts to shore up institutions, to pursue ideas, to disagree civilly, to serve the common good, and to share in our wealth. I despair at this state of affairs, but instead of seeing colleges and universities as a manifestation of all that is wrong in our society, I see them as all that can be right as long as we are committed to doing the work of building and maintaining the cathedral.

Just consider what colleges and universities are providing on a daily basis: we are training tomorrow's workforces, we are preserving the world's cultural heritages, we are addressing the most difficult societal challenges through research, advocacy, and the education of future leaders. We are community builders and connectors. We are anchor institutions, large employers, and summer camps. We are the hometown team, the local hospital, and community event spaces

We are not perfect structures, and we never will be. In this way we are manifestations of the humanity that has gone into our edifices. But from where I stand we are the best hope for a better tomorrow. And while I believe that applies to higher education, in general, here I am talking specifically about Rutgers. I know that there are skeptics who take delight in pointing out all the ways in which Rutgers doesn't execute perfectly. I wish I could say that the skeptics are always wrong, but they aren't. Rutgers remains a work in progress, and like any cathedral is never truly finished. But in my administration I will continue to call upon our better spirits and present a new narrative about this university, one that points to the abundant excellence that is already here and the excellence that it can attain if we find ways to believe in ourselves. Yes, we may not complete the cathedral, but we will be steadfast in attending to the work that will ensure that Rutgers is and will continue to be a sight to behold, a beacon that others will admire and to which others will look as they engage in their efforts to build a better world.

What is this work? It can be articulated in many different ways, but I will focus on three: access, research, and service.

Many times in the past year I have said that as the preeminent public university in the northeastern United States we embody the democratic possibilities for this country. If you consider the demographic complexity of the university and if you understand the transformative potential of a Rutgers education as a vehicle for social mobility, you can't help but see the importance of the school to the state, the region, and the nation. The Scarlet Promise Grant Program is illustrative. This program provides need-based aid to Rutgers undergraduates and emergency, temporary relief to those facing unexpected hardship. These grants are often the only thing standing between a student and the possibility of attending Rutgers or, in the case of emergencies, remaining at and graduating from Rutgers. Put another way, Scarlet Promise grants are a means of allowing those from the most modest backgrounds the opportunity to lift themselves to a place where they can write the terms of their future.

When I began my presidency I called attention to the Scarlet Promise Grant Program—the brainchild of the Board of Trustees—and asked Rutgers' extended community to demonstrate its support through a focused campaign that would raise $10 million to support students. Over 3600 donors responded, and with gifts ranging from $5 to $1 million we met that goal. But the most important statistic? Over 9000 students received support who otherwise may have been unable to earn their Rutgers degree. This is a beloved community in action.

Today I call on the Rutgers community to reaffirm its commitment to this program. I have seen the great work that it can do, I have seen your enthusiasm for it, and now, together, we are going to make a powerful statement to our students about how much we believe in them and their ability to change the world. With your support we are going to broaden and deepen the Scarlet Promise program by raising $50 million over the next three years, all in service of building pathways to a better world.

While Scarlet Promise grant recipients are starting their journey, Rutgers researchers are securing grants that have and will continue to change the world. The research productivity of our scholars is breath-taking, and the pace is accelerating. Just this last year, our researchers secured over $900 million in program awards from the federal government, the state of New Jersey, corporate partners, foundations, and associations. And what were these awards for? Among many others, improving access to COVID-19 testing for underserved and vulnerable communities in New Jersey; a research hub focused on large-scale coastlines science; grants to help students and teachers improve STEM learning; research traineeships for those working on socially cognizant robotics; an institute for the study of global racial justice. Taken together, these programs are about finding solutions to problems that impinge upon our daily quality of life and, if unchecked, will radically diminish the security of our futures. This is research in service to the common good.

There are many more examples, literally thousands, from which I could pull that highlight the importance of Rutgers’ research agenda, but I want to call your attention to one particular project for the way that it represents a forward-looking trajectory for our research enterprise. I am speaking here about the New Brunswick Innovation and Technology Hub. Last month I was able to join Governor Murphy as he led the groundbreaking of The Hub. Today it's a hole across from the New Brunswick train station. Soon it will be an epicenter of innovation: a new site for Rutgers Robert Wood Johnson Medical School; home to cutting-edge laboratories; space for collaborations with our colleagues at Princeton and with business partners including the two largest hospital systems in the state; and an incubator for the next generation of scientific advances in New Jersey. Fully realized, The Hub will transform and affirm the central value of Rutgers’ research enterprise to the world.

Just as I stand before you, committing that Rutgers will do everything it can to preserve and enhance access, just as I stand before you committing that Rutgers will continue to grow its research enterprise, I want to take a few moments to talk about another commitment: Rutgers as an institution that is dedicated to service.

Earlier this year, I wrote in the New York Times about universal national service as a path to appreciating our differences and restoring civil discourse. I know from the responses I received that while many may be uncertain about a national program, people are aching for some sort of vehicle to improve the quality of our public conversation and culture. Education, of course, is where we start. When we provide a robust and challenging education to our students we are laying the foundation for a healthy civil discourse. It often feels, however, that this is not enough. I believe that education, paired with public service, can do amazing things. And given the events of this past year in our political landscape I do not think it hyperbolic to say that education paired with public service can save democracy.

Earlier today we had a panel discussion, "In Service to the Common Good." The panel featured former New Jersey Governor Tom Kean, University of Minnesota President Joan Gabel, and the President of the Institute for Citizens and Scholars, Raj Vinnakota. Their accomplishments and their shared commitment to public service are as inspiring as they are humbling. I asked them to participate in this panel because they could help me highlight and then elevate the importance of the common good. This is an ideal, I worry, that is too often considered unfashionable or merely old-fashioned. I disagree deeply and believe that if we discard the common good we put the health and resilience of our society at great risk.

There is an opportunity here.

Just as Rutgers is a leader when it comes to providing access to higher education to those from modest backgrounds, and just as Rutgers is a leader in terms of research productivity, I believe that Rutgers should be a leader in its commitment to public service. To that end, today I am announcing the creation of the Rutgers Summer Service initiative. This initiative will enable an annual cohort of our students to spend their second- or third-year summers in public service internships. Rutgers Summer Service students will work for non-profits, serve the broader community, and gain the opportunity to learn about people who are unlike themselves—who face different struggles and come from different backgrounds, countries, races, or religions. Participating in this program will make our students better citizens and our world a better place.

The RSS program, which will be run through the Eagleton Institute of Politics and our Career Service offices and which will start this coming summer, will annually place up to 150 students in paid public service internships—and hopefully more in years to come. This program will allow students who otherwise could not afford to pursue service opportunities the means to do so. Through this program we will be giving Rutgers students the chance to support critical social services, to contribute to solutions for our most complex problems, to understand life in America from a different perspective, and to explore how they can strengthen our democracy.

If this sounds self-important, so be it. I believe Rutgers for too long has shied away from embracing aspirations worthy of its potential. We have been cautious about telling the world who we are and what we can become. While we should not let hubris be our guide, let us be unafraid to be bold, comfortable in our skin, and confident in our abilities. The theme of this inaugural year, "Rutgers: This is What Excellence Looks Like," is embodied in this call and it captures my vision for the university.

When I look at Rutgers I want to see a beloved community in which we recognize the things we hold in common so that when we disagree we will do so without denying one another’s dignity. This is what excellence looks like.

When I look at Rutgers I want to see a place that aspires boldly to be both a leading engine of world-changing research and a vehicle for social mobility for students across the socio-economic spectrum. This is what excellence looks like.

When I look at Rutgers I want to see a public university that embraces the call to service as an ethical obligation and inspires that call in every member of the community. This, surely, is what excellence looks like.

A final reflection.

Earlier I spoke about A. Leon Higginbotham and his metaphor that likened the work of changing the face of higher education to the building of a cathedral—this was labor that took time, perseverance, an attention to detail, and a commitment to reinforcing the building's foundation as well as its most ornamental elements. Higginbotham offered that insight thirty-one years ago this fall. I have never forgotten it and have used his thoughts as a guide throughout my career.

But Higginbotham is not the only source of wisdom that has helped me understand this journey. Another key figure is William Johnson Trent. His name is almost certainly unknown to you, but he, like Higginbotham, was committed to the work of improving the life opportunities for those who hailed from modest circumstances and who often had to navigate a society that said they could not aspire to anything beyond a second-class status. Trent, a sharecropper in his youth, rose to become the president of Livingstone College, a private, historically black school in Salisbury, North Carolina. He served from 1925 to 1958.

When I started my presidency I received a few letters about Trent and the impact that he had upon students who were at Livingstone during his tenure. They spoke about his commitment to the highest ideals, his refusal to accept anything but the best efforts, and his determination to make the world better for his students.

Why did I get these letters about the president of a different college from a different era? Why did I get the testimonials about someone I never had the honor to meet? Because William Johnson Trent is my great-grandfather and his students wanted to tell me about him.

It became clear to me through these attestations that Trent knew that he may not see his work completed in his lifetime, but that the work was good and it was decent and it made a difference. As I stand before you today I want you to know that this is what I bring to Rutgers: a commitment to doing work that is good, that is decent, and that with the support of everyone here, will make a difference.

And in the end, this, too, is what excellence looks like.

Thank you.