Clan Macalester and Its Chief
Richard Warch
President, Lawrence University

When then-Dean Rosenberg was in the middle of the interview process for the Macalester presidency last spring, I suggested that he might enhance his candidacy by changing his name to McRosenberg, a suggestion-like many of my suggestions-he dismissed outright. He also refused to take my advice that as a goodwill gesture to a now-defunct cherished college tradition and in homage to the college's commitment to international perspectives, he bring the Macabee Games to St. Paul as a substitute for the Macalester Scottish Country Fair & Highland Games. But, as a Presbyterian and as someone who has lived in Scotland for a year, I can't let the Scottish bit go; hence the somewhat whimsical title of these remarks. What light, I wondered, might the responsibilities of a chief of a Highlands clan shed on the role of a college chief executive officer?

Well, perhaps some. Brian follows in the footsteps of 15 predecessors, and thus may be seen as the heir to "the sacred and dynastic origin of the founder chiefs" of Macalester. And he might resonate to-if not rue-the notion that, like the chief of a clan, his title "is more properly a social description than a legal designation." And though, by tradition, he is entitled to wear three eagle's feathers in his bonnet, he has opted instead for the less ostentatious-okay, maybe a bit ostentatious-velvet tam. Happily, the clan chief has one or more chieftains under his command (they only get to wear two eagle's feathers), who constitute the clan council (now in the form of the administrative staff), which does most of the work. Furthermore, the chief is entitled to supporters (one presumes in this case that means the alumni), "indicative of the fact that he [is] of sufficient standing with a large following [here, perhaps, referring to students, faculty, and staff] to warrant the grant of the exclusive heraldic right."

So what does the chief do? "Of what use, if any, is he" one author asks, "when warfare has little use for claymore or trage, or even kilt or pipes? Of what use a chief when the economy of the clan no longer depends upon a communal agriculture," or, one might say in the present instance, no longer depends on Readers Digest stock. "Of what use is a chief," our author concludes, "when boasting of great exploits or mighty position is more likely to bring the crimson of embarrassment than the cheers of exhilaration and triumph?" Here the comparison fails us, for the college president's principal role is to boast of great exploits and mighty position, and to do so without either feeling or provoking embarrassment, as I suspect we will hear in a moment.

But there is more: the chief is to "defend the clan, oversee clan activities, and interact with strangers," which comes pretty close to what the trustees have in mind for Brian. Furthermore, and this one really fits, the chief of the clan gets to "allocate plunder" among his clan, a duty that nicely combines securing plunder (which we euphemistically describe in college parlance as undertaking fund-raising activities to generate "resources") and distributing it (which comes under the general rubric of making budget decisions, often unpopular).

In seeking these various comparisons, I came upon one that I fervently wish had been part of today's ceremony: "In some clans the chief was required, on his investiture, to stand on a large stone and give an oath to protect the clan." Finally, then, a last and apt analogy: the chief "serves as symbol, representative, and leader of his great extended family," a role that Brian is sure to play with style, grace, conviction, and good humor.

Clan Macalester is fortunate to have President Rosenberg as its chief, for, as is surely by now evident after seven months at the helm, he brings to this position an abiding commitment to the virtues and values of liberal learning, a deep and growing appreciation for the special qualities of Macalester, and an energetic determination to foster and further Macalester's place as a national liberal arts and science college of the first rank. At the same time, and as those of us who have been members of what former Yale President Bart Giamatti called "our little guild" know from experience, the job of college president at times calls to mind the statement of Montreal Canadiens' goalie Jacques Plante: "How would you like a job where when you made a mistake a red light goes on and 18,000 people scream at you in anger?"

Another Jacques, in this case Jacques Barzun, wrote to the point more directly when he described the college presidency in these somewhat unflattering terms: The president's task, opined Barzun, "is to 'handle' the Trustees, the public, and the money. He makes speeches and contacts, and signs diplomas. If after his term of office he has secured for the college a new gymnasium or library, he is held in as high esteem as if he had contributed an idea or an atmosphere." Well, as best I can tell, Macalester is in good shape on the library front, though Brian may have a crack at something akin to a new gymnasium, but I can assure you that President Rosenberg will, as he already has, contribute an idea and atmosphere to your community. And in the coming years, he will surely earn and deserve your esteem.

It has been my good fortune to count Brian as a colleague for five years. In the organizational chart of the Lawrence administration, he "reported" to me. But the truth is that our relationship was not of that sort; we were, rather, partners and interacted as colleagues-if not co-conspirators-in furthering the college's mission and purposes. His counsel, perspective, encouragement, and good humor-to say nothing of his editorial skills-were indispensable features of what he brought to our work together. And what I came to value and cherish most in our years at the college were the strengths of his convictions, the elegance and power of his arguments, and the wit and energy he gave to achieving the tasks at hand and dealing with the challenges we faced.

And there are plenty of tasks at hand and challenges to be faced at Macalester, some perhaps captured by Charles Dickens in David Copperfield: "Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure nineteen six, result happiness. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure twenty pounds ought and six, result misery." I obviously hope that there will be more happiness than misery for Brian and Macalester in the years ahead. But in dealing with the tasks and challenges of the presidency, Brian has the advantage of drawing on his experiences in other liberal arts college settings as a successful teacher, an accomplished scholar, and a savvy administrator. Among my hopes for Brian, as he soon officially becomes Macalester's sixteenth president, is that he will not only accomplish your tasks and deal with your challenges-that he will not only protect and lead this clan-but that in so doing he will protect and lead all of the college clans that profess liberal learning.

In the vast and diverse array of collegiate institutions in America-what some unhappily call the post-secondary sector-national, selective liberal arts colleges are a distinct minority. We number less than 170-less than that, if one is fairly stringent in the definition of a liberal arts college-and we enroll under three percent of the college-going population. In the larger scheme of things-said scheme including around 3,500 post-secondary institutions, dominated by such city-states as the great land-grant universities-our teaching and learning communities are something like a cottage industry. To make matters worse, we are an industry with a product not widely valued by the public.

A few years ago, a major consulting firm did a survey of what people thought about a liberal arts education. The findings were not encouraging. The survey found that "liberal arts" is not a meaningful term-only 14 percent of high school students and 27 percent of parents claimed to be "very familiar" with a liberal arts education. Put another way, and this is a situation with a long history, liberal education is a mystery to many people, or, if not a mystery, appears to them as no different from, and certainly no better than, sometimes less "relevant" than, other forms of education, professional, pre-professional, vocational, or what have you. In a culture preoccupied with the educational quick fix, where seeking the credential of a college degree is deemed more valuable than obtaining a college education, and where students are often portrayed as consumers, liberal education can easily be dismissed, if not dissed.

In that light, liberal arts colleges-even liberal arts colleges of Macalester's stature and circumstance-can ill afford to become self-satisfied or to assume that the virtues of liberal education we profess and promote are self-evidently meritorious and honorable. Those virtues are real and powerful, but they need bold and articulate proponents. Brian is nothing if not bold, nothing if not articulate. He is the man for the job. The Macalester web site puts it well: "Led by President Brian Rosenberg, Macalester College continues to seek the best possible ways to carry out its abiding commitments to academic excellence, to the education of capable students from the widest range of social and cultural backgrounds, and to an education that fits young people for a life of service in an increasingly interdependent world." And as he leads Macalester towards these noble ends, I believe that he will surely lead and inspire other institutions that share Macalester's purposes and practices, in the Associated Colleges of the Midwest, in the Annapolis Group, and beyond. I'm only sorry that I won't be around to be a beneficiary of his leadership and inspiration.

But in all that he does, I would also encourage Brian to relish the many and varied joys of the job. For all of the hassles, headaches, and heartaches that come with clan chiefdom, the college presidency is not indentured servitude. Men and women take on these jobs willingly and gratefully and embrace the opportunity to work for a cause and community in service to shared purposes and ends. And so Brian does and will, in matters large and small, substantive and ceremonial. In an e-mail to me in the early weeks of his tenure, after describing some of the large substantive matters with which he was grappling, Brian wrote of the small and ceremonial: "And [in addition], of course, there's the deep intellectual work of the presidency: calling bingo, handing out mugs, scooping ice cream, and so on. For this did I go to graduate school."

In that spirit, then, and in deference to his years in graduate school, let me note in closing that Brian is widely read and has his favorite authors and poets, from whom he will quote from time to time. Among those favorite poets, however, I suspect one will not find the great Scottish bard Robert Burns. But I hope that as your new chief, he will not only scoop ice cream, but that on the occasion of Robbie Burns' birthday next January 25, he will dutifully celebrate the occasion by offering a public reading of the poem "Address to a Haggis," and instruct Bon Appetit to provide this memorable Scottish pudding cooked in a sheep's stomach for the delectation and delight of Clan Macalester. Maybe for that did he go to graduate school.

Above all, my fondest hope for Brian again draws upon a quotation from Dickens: that as your president, he will "have a heart that never hardens, and a temper that never tries, and a touch that never hurts." Mr. Vander Ploeg, it is my privilege and pleasure to present for his installation as the sixteenth president of Macalester College, Brian Rosenberg.