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hours are athletics, formations, brigade responsibilities, and liberty time.
The description of the Academy’s program as “rigorous” and “teaching the management of time” is appropriate. However, the average midshipman’s involvement with academics may not be particularly intense or penetrating. With service selection depending on rank-in-class, and separation from the Academy the penalty for failure, prudent midshipmen concentrate on getting the grade, rather than developing a critical understanding or permanent assimilation of the subject matter.
Like so many other changes at the Naval Academy, the more recent changes in the curriculum resulted from a combination of external influences and internal leadership: Early in 1984, at the invitation of Secretary of the Navy John Lehman, the Superintendent, Rear Admiral Charles R. Larson, discussed the Academy curriculum with the Secretary and Admiral James D. Watkins, then-Chief of Naval Operations. Educated in philosophy and law, Secretary Lehman said that he found Academy graduates to be superb technicians, who lacked grace in literary expression and solidity in strategic insights. At the urging Superintendent Larson, the Secretary appointed a blue rib-
Admiral William J. Crowe, Jr., Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, addressed the U. S. Naval Academy Class of 1986 at their graduation on 21 May 1986. This is an edited and abridged copy of his address.
As a rule, a graduation speaker is never given a topic, but is at the same time expected to inspire and encourage his listeners with stirring remarks about nothing in particular. Today’s event was no exception. I learned early in my life that people in the academic world have a strong tendency to speak in generalities and, when you most want specific answers, to leave you on your own. As a young and struggling student I had a number of teachers insist that a man becomes what he thinks about—that was, of course, designed to encourage studiousness and high thoughts. But if it was true that I became what I thought about, by the time I was 18 I would have become a girl.
Lacking a subject or definitive instructions, I turned to my own experience for help. As I contemplate the 40 years since I graduated from this institution—since I faced the world as you do now, with a degree but little work experience; with high hopes but little actual know-how—a few special thoughts seem to spring out. . . .
There is a strong tendency today in this country—especially among speakers on occasions such as this—to deplore the state of the world, to wring one’s hands, and to fantasize about the past— the good old days. These prophets of doom overlook an awful lot that has gone on in the past and simply ignore the steady progress that has been made over the centuries. In fact, previous ages have faced more disease, more poverty, more hunger, more corruption, more racism, and more killing than your generation. The globe since its beginning has confronted terrifying challenges and yet it is still revolving on its axis. It is more exciting and vibrant today than it ever has been. . . .
The greatest joy a human being can know is the joy we celebrate today—accomplishment. This joy can be boundless when we make full use of our minds, our talents, and our time. But there are no guarantees with either your diploma or your commission. They may widen your opportunities but “future” achievements, results, and satisfaction depend on what you have yet to do. An individual who does not continue to learn and grow as a person is no better than the one who cannot. Newton D. Baker wisely pointed out that, “The man who graduates today and stops learning tomorrow is uneducated the day after.”
You will soon discover as you disperse and report to your first duty station that you do in fact have a great deal more to learn and that, in turn, service life has a lot to teach. In fact, I would recommend that early in the game every ensign and second lieutenant latch on to one or more good chief petty officers, or gunnery sergeants, and absorb their wisdom-. You will greatly profit from what experience has taught them and the depth of their knowledge- If you are genuinely willing to learn, they will be happy to share it with you. In return, they will expect enlightened leadership. Leaders, not technicians, are the number one product of this institution, and that’s what is most needed in the fleet. Believe nre, leadership can and does make a crucial difference in every successful group—and this is even more true in a platoon, a ship, °r a squadron where men may someday be ordered to perform at the risk of death. A winning military capability is inevitably built upon quality leadership.
Successful commanders differ greatly in their styles and tech-
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°n committee to review the Academy curriculum. The
StoT W3S ^leac'e(^ by ret*red Vice Admiral James B.
^dale, philosopher-hero of Vietnam prison camps, stat (?rmer President of the Naval War College. The report .,a e l^at the humanities did not enjoy their deserved status at the Academy.
j aperintendent Larson argued that the Academy should thg anient the Secretary’s broad goals for reform under h?Ult*anCe of the existing Academic Advisory Board, the Cr t'lan an outs'^e agency. The main goals would be n ■ ravision of the core requirements—classes taken by all 1 s tpmen—in the humanities, and the establishment of
honors programs in the humanities majors. The Academy would raise the prestige of its humanities studies by making them as demanding as the accredited engineering classes.
In the days of the lock-step curriculum, the Department of English, History, and Government was referred to by the midshipmen (often with affection; sometimes with contempt) as the “bull” department, an epithet that carried over to the humanities departments under the new order. In bull departments, one could easily pass through seminar discussions without mastering the assigned text, thus saving time to study the technical subjects, which are
JUes' b^t they have a few comm n, qualities. They know the jn C. an'cs °f their business; they alw'lrC 0t^ers to excel; and they fu‘lys keep the organization’s I u „UITIenta^ goals firmly in focus. ent^e you to cultivate those tal- ^orj011 anc^ our country will
profit from such efforts, whether you make your ultimate career in or out of the service . . .
As graduates of the U. S.
Naval Academy you are part of a long and impressive tradition that you can call on in times of strife and peril. You are steeped in the
history and the standards of the world’s foremost Navy and Marine Corps team. You inherit a code of perseverance and victory second to none, and it rests on the achievements of men like Far- ragut, Dewey, Sims, King, Nim- itz, Spruance, and a host of others. 1 can testify that there will be times when you will personally draw on the Navy’s traditions for strength and that you will find them genuinely sustaining.
Right now I suspect that most of you feel that you are approaching the future with comparatively open minds, willing to entertain new ideas and varying points of view. In fact, you probably deplore what appears to be the narrow outlook and predictability of many of your elders. Senior military leaders, not unlike bankers, doctors, journalists, farmers, lawyers, stock brokers, and television executives, all develop their own stereotyped view of the world which often leaves little room for change, invention, or appreciation for the opinion of others. They enter their profession and are gradually entrapped in its patterns of thinking and doing.
I urge you to reject that path and to nourish the spirit of inquiry which the last four years have imparted to you. This involves keeping a broad circle of
so easy to fail. Throughout the years, students have taught their teachers; recently, a senior professor in the social sciences reported glumly that it is useless to assign more than 30 pages of reading for any class session. When they were interviewed for acceptance at Nuclear Power School, humanities majors confessed that they did not work as hard as their roommates laboring in the engineering majors.2
A faculty committee on honors programs was appointed on 9 August 1984, and a committee on the core curriculum was formed later that month. The Academic Advisory Board met at the Academy in September 1984 to be
briefed on the reform movement and to offer any guidance. On 30 January 1985, the Board accepted the concept of the proposed honors program, which was in turn approved and funded by Secretary Lehman on 20 March. (Anyone familiar with academic inertia and the fierceness with which departments defend their turf should be awed by this rapid progress.)
To pave the way for the new program, Secretary Lehman rescinded the 20% limitation on humanities majors. The classes of 1987 and 1988 selected majors in a proportion of roughly 25% humanities to 75% engineering ant^ science. The Academy changed its admissions procedures
acquaintances, wide reading, developing interests outside of your work, seriously listening to others, even your critics, and constantly seeking fresh points of view.
Given the pressures and the specialization of the modern world, and especially of the military profession, you will have to work continuously at keeping an open and questioning mind. But the rewards are great. This capacity is the foundation on which a man or woman can build genuine integrity and self-esteem. You could pay no greater tribute to the Academy or to yourself than winning the constant fight to maintain your intellectual freedom, independence, and perspective.
Let me offer one more piece of amateur wisdom. As you progress and mature, nothing will stand you in better stead than a sense of humor. In a perfect or ideal world, this would not be so important. We could be serious about every subject without harm. But, unfortunately, life does not meet that criterion. There is no line of work, no endeavor, no institution, no achievement, no failure that doesn’t have its ludicrous or ridiculous aspects and to recognize that simple lesson is a first step toward maturity.
Alan Alda, better known as Hawkeye of Mash fame, contends
that “to be playful about the most serious things is a trait of the most dedicated person.” He insists that “to kid authority is to humanize it” and to endow it with “a strength that rigidity will never give it.” He suggests that such an approach is a “mark of closeness and involvement, not antagonism.” He may have been rationalizing his own rather irreverent attitudes. But there is a great deal of truth in what he says.
I must emphasize that 1 do not mean just the ability to appreciate a joke or tell a good story. In my book, a man who cannot make fun of himself does not have a sense of humor. A genuine sense of humor oils the gears of personal relationships, lends perspective to complex problems, and above all, helps to keep you sane when the world closes in—and it will close in at times.
It is hard to believe that it has been four decades since my own graduation. For me the years of following the flag, literally around the globe, have been full of challenge, and in the end they have brought me quite unexpected responsibilities. Now I am the last one of my class—826 strong—on active duty. Those years included a great deal of conflict and crisis for my country—they spanned Korea, Vietnam, and all gradations
of troubled peace. Nevertheless:
- Our people are still free, and prospering.
- The prospects for the future spread of democracy are bright.
- Hopeful peoples around the globe still look to the United States of America for inspiration and help.
- The enemies of freedom have been more often thwarted than successful, and their star is in decline.
My class has played a significant role in that drama both in peace and war. Two of my classmates were POWs in North Vietnam for over seven years; two are Medal of Honor winners; 34 attained flag or general rank; many are chief executive officers or heads of their own companies; and one served as president of our nation. The list could go on and on.
Your class will likewise be heavily involved in shaping U. S. foreign and military policy and every aspect of our national life over the next 40 years. It will be an exciting journey, and I envy the prospects and challenges you will face. President Lincoln, in the Civil War, used to tell his generals, “Gentlemen, always remember, when you are in the field, you are the Republic.”
That is no less true for the Class of 1986—You are the Republic.