Many years ago, when I was a fairly new dean, I sent an email to my faculty colleagues asking what three texts they thought every student should read before they graduated college. I promised to share the results. A number of replies began with language like, “I don’t believe in canons, but here are my three choices…”

My goal was to demonstrate how decentralized our views were, but I underestimated how true that was. About sixty people responded, and the most “votes” any text received was seven. Incidentally, it was Plato’s Republic.

Many cultures and communities have canonical texts, music, art, or tropes that shape their identities and values. That shaping is in small part who or what is included, and in large part who is excluded. We can learn a lot about a time and a group of people by examining their sorting process and observing what they find to be of greatest, or most convenient, value.

Some canonical works that have stood the test of time have done so for intrinsic reasons. The Western Civilization courses of previous generations suffered from what was left out, but some of what was included is truly transcendent. The Republic continues to be deeply meaningful, and learning how it influenced successive generations’ ways of thinking is part of that meaning.

Understanding the “great works” can be a window into understanding and appreciating new works. As a musician, the canon I was taught decades ago came from composers who were dead, white, male, and mostly European (especially German or Austrian). Still, the best of those works remain windows into the capacity of creativity and the depths of what it means to be human.

As I have broadened my listening, I have learned more and more not to judge new and different kinds of music against the techniques and architecture of the foundational works of my training. I appreciate the different ways music that is new to me achieves the ineffable qualities of greatness that my canon (the works from my initial education that have stuck with me and those I have accreted through a lifetime if listening and study) has shown me is possible.

I truly believe my long and abiding communion with the symphonic works of Beethoven has enhanced my understanding of the brilliant new works of composers like Terrance Blanchard, Augusta Read Thomas, and Tan Dun. Every time I play the keyboard music of Bach (no matter how poorly), I am a little better prepared to celebrate the intricacies of West African drumming and Balinese gamelan music.

I recently visited the High Museum of Art in Atlanta on a day when the museum was teeming with student groups from elementary and high schools. It was rewarding to be surrounded by their wonderful collection, and it was fun to see the wonder the young children had for works across a wide spectrum. Their tastes were far more catholic than most adults. Sadly, nearly all the high school students I encountered never looked up from their phones.

We can learn a lot about being receptive from children. A number of years ago, my wife was teaching music in an elementary school. One of the favorite pieces of her youngest students was Morton Subotnik’s Silver Apples on the Moon, a 1967 example of musique concrète (a work of recorded sounds, in this case electronic). They were intrigued by and open to a piece most adults would complain about because they hadn’t developed the limited tastes that narrow playlists and canons can create.

There are plenty of debates going on today about curricular canons. Some state governments have eliminated DEI education, and Florida has removed Sociology from the eligible courses to fulfill general-education credit.  

Some who resist expanding our educational horizons believe this will devalue what they have learned, but truly embracing historically marginalized perspectives and histories helps us to recontextualize what we have come to believe, and it can provide us with opportunities for wonderment like those avant-garde-loving children.

There are national organizations advocating for specific curricular content. ACTA (American Association of Trustees and Alumni) publishes a grading of the general education programs of 1,100 colleges and universities. Their scoring is based upon whether seven specific courses meeting “carefully defined criteria” are required of all students at the institution.

Only seven institutions met all of their criteria, but many of the remaining institutions, including those that were given an F, offer rich, thoughtful, and transformative general education programs that just don’t happen to align with a narrow, hidebound view of what all students should learn.

In the past few decades, we have begun to come to terms with a more complete version of our histories, and we have seen pushback from many who find these truths uncomfortable. We can learn much more from understanding the real discomfort and pain of those whose stories had not been told.

I am thrilled that Nikole Hannah-Jones will be a guest speaker at Susquehanna in the Spring. Her work on the Pulitzer Prize winning, The 1619 Project, has helped many of us to recognize more fully how incomplete and biased much of our history education has been.

My formal education was remarkably hegemonic. As I have encountered new voices and new stories, I have begun to develop a richer appreciation of the complexities of our past and our present. That has included understanding that many of my historical heroes were deeply flawed individuals.

Those are valuable and important lessons. Just like the heroes of Greek tragedies, some of the greatest achievements of our past have come from some of our most complexly imperfect forebears. Understanding this doesn’t negate their achievement. It does affirm that they possessed and struggled with the human frailties each of us confronts.

What can we learn from a fuller telling of their lives, good and bad, that will help us to become better, and how can we celebrate and benefit from understanding the daily heroism of the countless individuals who navigated the wrongs of history and whose stories are waiting to be told?

Without all of our stories, none of our stories is complete.

I just attended a workshop for college presidents about the impact of Artificial Intelligence, or AI on higher education and the responsibilities and opportunities it presents our institutions and society. The benefit of this week’s workshop was being able to interact with leaders in the industry and colleagues trying to position these same issues on their respective campuses.

AI Background

AI was established as an academic discipline in the 1950s. It built on Alan Turing’s pioneering work, which was the foundation of machine learning. AI is fundamentally a set of tools that allow us to navigate and manipulate large sets of data and to generate new material based upon powerful machine learning with the ability to sift and sort enormous sets of data for source material.

Most of us benefit from AI applications that are embedded in more and more of the technology we use. Search engines and the curatorial features of streaming services and e-merchandizing use various forms of AI.

If you have swiped up on a photo on your smart phone to identify an image, that image recognition used AI. Auto-complete functions in texting, email, and word processing are driven by “Language Learning” technology, as are editing programs like Grammarly. Self-driving and semi-autonomous vehicles utilize AI technology.

AI is dependent on computer hardware with powerful math processing capabilities. Graphic Processing Units (GPUs) were originally created to support rich visual content for gaming, but eventually, enterprising graduate students realized that the speed and capacity of these units could be used to solve complex computing problems. Many of the most significant developments in this technology have been led by NVIDIA. They were the hosts for this week’s meeting,

Some Current AI Technologies

Image recognition ranges from the swipe up feature on your phone to sophisticated facial recognition technologies. There have been many ethical challenges from biased data sets and the implicit bias of programmers, but this is an area where computers are now outperforming humans.

A generative AI complement to image recognition is text to image technology, which will synthesize an image based upon a text description. The initial image can then be edited using text prompts as well.

One of the machine learning functions that has been most in the news lately is Large Language Modeling (LLM). The 2022 release of ChatGPT (a chat bot that uses Generative Pre-trained Transformer technology, which allows the program to do much of its own training) introduced this functional technology to tens of millions of people almost overnight and pushed AI into the spotlight.

ChatGPT gave us open access to technology that could pull data together in an instant and synthesize textual summaries. It could also set the style and audience level with surprising sophistication.

On college campuses, as with all topics, there were strong and divergent views. Some faculty immediately worried that students would use this technology to “plagiarize” original work, others saw it as a tool to help students improve their writing with its capacity to rewrite large passages of text in seconds. Still others were taken by its ability as a powerful search engine with the ability to contextualize and curate the materials it gathers.

It didn’t take long for many of us to realize that it makes mistakes. Some of this is the result of the fallibility of its data sources, but it also fabricates and “hallucinates.” Much of the language learning design is focused on its ability to write clearly and compellingly, and this seems to generate material that is either untrue or unreal. These aberrations are prevalent enough that ChatGPT and Gemini have disclaimers that they make mistakes. Over time, these problems appear to be reducing, and they are likely to be worked out in the coming years.

Another function of AI uses a Digital Twin, which is a digital “copy” of a real thing or a proposed model. This technology makes advanced simulations and testing possible. Thousands of iterations of a science experiment can be simulated in a short timeframe speeding up research, reducing costs, and expanding data collection. Likewise, designs and models can be tested in accelerated time to improve functionality and safety and reduce the costs of development.

Many of those functions are dependent upon High Performance Computing. These often use supercomputers or computer clusters to process enormous sets of data quickly.

The Role of Higher Education

We describe a Susquehanna education as one that makes our students “Future Ready.”

Part of this is our recognition that the soft skills rooted in the liberal arts prepare students to be adaptable to an ever more rapidly changing world. We also offer a curriculum that provides a distinctive integration of those evergreen foundations with career-oriented skills. Those skills now need to include being articulate about AI, having the facility to use it as a problem-solving tool, and understanding the moral and ethical framework in which it is being used.

As one of the participants in our workshop said, “While we’re figuring out what to do with AI, our students are graduating into jobs where they are using it.”

Another added, “AI won’t take your job, someone who knows AI will take your job.”

AI displaces the need for certain skills. This will eliminate some jobs, but it will alter the focus and scope of many more. Some skills will be more needed and some less. AI has the potential to democratize many work-place skills

I recently formed a task force of faculty, staff, and students at Susquehanna to examine these issues and to set policies and practices for our campus, so we can make the most of these emerging technologies. This will position us to be proactive in preparing our students for the emerging world of work with AI, and it will help our campus take better advantage of the operational and research opportunities these technologies have to offer.

Business as usual is no longer an option, because the playing field is no longer the same.

Instead of merely using AI to improve how we play the game, we need to think about how we can change the game?

One of our sessions was about how the University of Florida has implemented AI across the curriculum. Not everyone will be an expert, and it is not a graduation requirement, but students in every program have the opportunity to learn how AI works, and what its current and emerging applications are in their respective disciplines. Students also have the option of completing a 3-course certificate program.

We are on the cusp of the Fourth Industrial Revolution, which will be marked by dramatic increases in automation, a transformation in human-machine interactions, and significant shifts in where economic power sits.

We have the opportunity to shape the narrative of where this revolution will take us, how we can use it to address some of our most intractable problems, and how we can use these technologies to support a fairer global society over time.

The time for those first steps is now.  

These were my remarks at yesterday’s commencement celebration at Susquehanna University.

Commencement means beginning. Today we celebrate the beginning of what you will take from this place to shape our future. We celebrate the launch of your gifts into a world that desperately needs them.

Class of 2024, every August, we begin the academic year with convocation. On the heels of move-in, students and their families gather in this space to be welcomed by representatives of a number of constituencies including the faculty and the Student Government Association, and at that event, I invite our new class to their graduation back in this space four years later.

That didn’t happen to you. We held a video convocation led by a handful of us in Weber Chapel because we were returning from lock down and were navigating being on a residential campus while maintaining a significant level of isolation.

At that virtual event, I asked you to join in a social contract to do the right things that would allow us to stay here, and you did. We never had less than 80% of you on campus that entire year. Thank you for making that possible.

I also thanked the CenSUs taskforce for developing a set of goals to make Susquehanna a more inclusive and supportive campus. Thank you for the many ways you all have helped us make meaningful progress on that work.

Lastly, I did invite you to be here today, and here we are. In the fall of 2020, moving into a campus took a leap of faith, and making it possible to stay here required sacrifice and diligence.

We all learned a lot about ourselves and each other as a result of that experience. And many of you will bore your children regaling them time and time again about what it was like.

Sadly, you won’t be able to say everything got better and returned to normal. I’m not sure things ever have been normal. Normal may be what we call the comfortable corners of memory, and we are clearly not there.

Since you arrived here, you have seen our own citizens assault our nation’s capital, civil war in Myanmar, humanitarian crises in South Sudan and Somalia, Russia attack Ukraine, and the deadly turmoil in Israel and Gaza that has become a flash point of division around the world. These are wicked problems in every meaning of the word.

We each see clear, inarguable rights and wrongs, but the dividing lines seem to be drawn on a 3-D chess board. As plain as right and wrong may be to each of us, these are complex, vexing conundrums, and sorting them out is made all the more difficult by the noise of seemingly ceaseless, fractious, and conflicting narratives.

Facts and truth have become topics of debate, but as the quote attributed to Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan avers, “You are entitled to your opinion. But you are not entitled to your own facts.”

Our time is sometimes jeeringly referred to as the “post-truth” era, but we cannot let this be the case, as the Gospel of John states, “you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”[1]

Or as Maya Angelou so poignantly wrote:

We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth

And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms…

When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace

We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence

Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness…

When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.[2]

This is why you took that leap of faith in the fall of 2020. You came here to seek the truth, to develop the skills to discern true from false, right from wrong, good from bad.

You proved that we learn best in community; that by engaging with each other to tackle life’s most challenging questions, we can find common ground; and that allowing ourselves to be intellectually vulnerable opens us up to new levels of wisdom.

And you are just in time. Our weary world needs you. It needs inquisitive leaders who reflect honestly about the best roles they can play in our global community. It needs humble servant leaders who recognize that each of us benefits most from those things that benefit us all. It needs leaders who deeply understand that inclusive communities need to be intentionally cultivated and supported.

Over the past four years, we have seen you grow. You have sent down deep roots and reached around the globe. You have plumbed core beliefs, and opened yourselves up to rich and conflicting perspectives. You have taken chances, and you have exercised bold compassion.

You have been brave, generous, clever, expressive, discerning, strong, adaptable, resilient, imaginative, and most importantly, kind.

Take these talents and be that gift to the world we have witnessed you become in this special place. You are our best hope for a better future, and you have now “come to it.”

Thank you, good luck, and congratulations.

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[1] John, 8:32.

[2] Angelou, Maya: from A Brave and Startling Truth, 1995.