Woodrow Wilson's Legacy: The Whole Truth
In November, student protesters at Princeton University held a sit-in at the office of the
university's president, marking the latest in a string of protests by African American students at
college campuses around the nation. The Princeton protesters' demands included the removal of
U.S. President Woodrow Wilson's name from all university buildings named in his honor. They
contend Wilson's racist views cast a shadow on his legacy and the culture of their university.
Wilson, whose name titles Princeton's School of Public and International Affairs and one of the
university's residential colleges, is arguably the most distinguished alumnus in Princeton's
history. After graduating in 1879, he became the 13th President of the university and the 28th
President of the United States. Yet Wilson was also a noted segregationist who spent much of his
childhood in the Deep South and who infamously screened The Birth of a Nation, a film that
apotheosizes the Ku Klux Klan, in the White House.
While Princeton's student protesters are certainly right that Wilson was a racist--this is
undisputed—we should not scrutinize historical figures based solely on modern standards. To do
so is both impractical and unwise, and we risk overlooking the duality of history's most
significant leaders. Wilson, like other Presidents and great leaders in our history, was a man of
his time whose beliefs should be examined through a sympathetic lens, taking into account the
context of the era in which he lived. If we ignore thiand forget his truly great accomplishments
and, more importantly to this issue, his two decades of service to Princeton University as a
professor and as its President, we arrive at an inaccurate and unbalanced picture of his legacy.
In fact, if we are to call for the removal of Wilson's nairie from Princeton, we should be equally
adamant about the removal of honors and memorials commemorating other figures in our history
whose racial views did not coincide with our own. Many of our nation's most revered leaders
held similarly racist views, including several of our Founding Fathers whose memorials feature
prominently in the heart of Washington D.C.
George Washington, whose name graces our nation's capital and his namesake monument, is
known to have regretted being a slave owner, yet he owned no less than 318 slaves when he died,
a marked increase from the 10 slaves he received as inheritance from his father. Across the Mall
that bears Washington's name is the U.S. Capitol's James Madison Memorial Building, which is
named for the Founding Father who proposed the 3/5 Compromise that made slaves "three-fifths
of all other persons" in the original U.S. Constitution, the law of our land.
A stone's throw away is the Jefferson Memorial, named after another slave-owning President
who wrote "All men are created equal" as the first words of his Declaration of Independence but
who failed to recognize the inequality suffered by women, slaves, and non-whites of his era. And
within view of Jefferson's memorial is the much newer Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial,
which honors a President whose wartime fear led him to order the mass internment of over
100,000 Japanese-Americans without due process.
We could extend our scrutiny to even leaders outside of our country. British Prime Minister
Winston Churchill, who is widely regarded as the greatest Briton of all time, was a strong
believer in Social Darwinism who referred to the white race as a "higher-grade race" and to
Islam as a "fanatical frenzy, which is as dangerous in a man as hydrophobia in a dog."
But it is irresponsible for us to disregard the fact that these men's views on race were widely held
when they were alive. Societal standards are constantly evolving, and a common belief today
may no longer be tomorrow. Many of our present-day beliefs will be looked upon by future
generations as barbaric or unjust, just as we consider the racial beliefs of Washington and Wilson
to be appalling. It is important for us to use this opportunity to learn from their mistakes, and to
dedicate ourselves to recognizing and solving today's racial issues.
We should accept these leaders' faults, and place their mistakes in the history books beside their
greatest achievements. But if we see only these men's flaws, we neglect their contributions to
modern society on many other fronts.
In all cases, their accomplishments vastly outweighed their faults. George Washington was
instrumental in fighting for and creating the nation and democracy in which we live. James
Madison authored the Bill of Rights that guarantees our most fundamental freedoms to this day,
including the freedom to publish an opinion such as this. Jefferson authored the Declaration of
Independence that inspired dozens of nations to turn to democracy and that Abraham Lincoln
evoked in the very first sentence of his Gettysburg Address. Franklin Roosevelt provided
incredible leadership during the worst financial crisis in our nation's history and the Second
World War, as did Winston Churchill, whose iron will helped Great Britain hold out against Nazi
Germany during the darkest days of the war. These great men name hundreds of memorials,
schools, streets, and buildings—and their names should remain.
Likewise, Woodrow Wilson's name should not be removed at Princeton. In addition to serving
as the university's President, Wilson was a two-term U.S. President and the first of 41 Nobel
laureates to hail from the school. During his time in the White House, he led the nation through
the turbulent years of the First World War and worked to establi sh the League of Nations, the
precursor to today's United Nations. His foreign policy achievements lead historians to
consistently rank him among the top 10 Presidents in U.S. history, and few other Princeton
graduates have done more to deserve the honor of naming the university's prestigious School of
Public and International Affairs.
Like Washington, Roosevelt, and Churchill, Wilson was a leader who undoubtedly had
imperfections, and it is very important for us to remember his flaws. We must also evaluate his
legacy holistically and within the context of his time. To remove his name entirely and forget his
contributions to the university and to our country because of a blemish on his record—or even a
stain—is imprudent. In doing so, we erase the parts of history that make us uncomfortable, and
resort to nothing less than censorship. Is this the legacy that we want to leave behind?