What's Up, Doc?
The prestige of honorary degrees falls to record lows.
May 26, 2008, Vol. 13, No. 35 • By JOSEPH EPSTEIN
A cultural historian may one day be able to measure the fall from seriousness of American universities by tracking the people to whom they chose to award honorary degrees. The first step in this descent I noted was the awarding of such degrees to television journalists (Walter Cronkite, the man who has a face only a nation could love, must have a closet filled with the damn things). From there these degrees went to movie stars and television comedians. Northwestern, I know, has given honorary doctorates to Robert Redford and Julia Louis-Dreyfus. Yale gave one some years back to Meryl Streep. The motive here, at least in part, is to get a commencement address on the cheap, and to give the graduating students the right to say that at their commencement someone wildly famous spoke. Yet one wonders if the graduates of Long Island's Southampton College, allowed to reflect upon the matter in tranquility, were entirely pleased when their school gave an honorary degree to Kermit the Frog.
Controversy has surrounded the granting of honorary degrees from Oxford, Harvard, the Sorbonne in more recent years. Oxford went out of its way to refuse publicly to award such a one to Margaret Thatcher because she had severely cut university budgets in England. When in 2001 Yale granted an honorary degree to George W. Bush, one of its alumni, students and some faculty members refused to attend commencement in protest. Not a few universities have been caught by the twists of history, awarding an honorary degree to someone who later turns out to be a dictator or other species of political monster: the University of Edinburgh and the University of Massachusetts (Boston) conferred honorary degrees on Robert Mugabe that one may be sure they wished they hadn't.
The degree itself has never meant much but in recent years even the honor has been greatly diminished. The iron law of diversity has contributed to this in a significant way. No contemporary university dare not include women, African Americans, and other minority members among the honorary degree recipients at its annual commencement lest it be attacked for official bigotry. As soon as this harsh note of necessity enters the proceedings, distinction, and with it genuine prestige, departs.
Perhaps it is a little late to report that I have an honorary doctorate, though just one, and, let it be emphasized, from a not very famous school. I was also once called by the president of a university in Illinois, an institution whose name I cannot now recall, who asked if I would fill in for the person, recently become ill, who was supposed to give the school's commencement address. A modest fee was mentioned, and then the president added, "Of course, we'll toss in an honorary degree." I turned down the invitation but have never forgotten the phrase "toss in," and even now regret I didn't say to him that I'd much rather he toss in a rear-window defogger.
I like to think that I have personally warded off any more offers of honorary degrees by asserting, in print, that I'd rather have a sandwich named after me than an honorary degree from Oxford or any other institution of higher-learning.
So low has the prestige of honorary degrees fallen by being given to third- and fourth-class people that there are now even jokes about such degrees. One of the best is about the fabulously rich oil man, T-bone Tex Cunningham, who one day calls the office of the president of Southeast Texas A&M (at Langtry) to offer a donation of $100 million to the school. The president, in a mood of exultation at the size of the gift, asks T-bone if there is anything the school can do for him.
"As a matter of fact there is," the oil man replies. "I'd like an honorary doctorate for my favorite Arab stallion, Fertile Crescent by name."
"Mr. Cunningham," the president says, "I'm sure that this can be arranged without any difficulty at all."
At the next meeting of his board of trustees, the president of Southeast Texas A&M informs them of Cunningham's enormous gift and the request that goes with it. The trustees are, naturally enough, shocked by the request, but the president tells them not to worry, he'll bring it off just fine.
Commencement day in Langtry, seated on the stage behind the lectern are the recipients of the current year's honorary degrees: Amiri Baraka, Brett Favre, Raúl Castro, Germaine Greer, Yasser Arafat's son-in-law, and the horse. The president steps up to the podium, and begins: