Over the past few weeks, alumni and current students have taken to the pages of The Dartmouth to voice their frustration over President Beilock’s decision not to sign the American Association of Colleges and Universities open letter defending academic freedom and institutional neutrality. A quick scroll through the opinion section makes one thing abundantly clear: the Dartmouth community is unhappy.
But more concerningly, our community is scared about what the future holds for Dartmouth. Titles such as “You’re Embarrassing Us,” “Resist” and “Dartmouth, the Follower” are not just expressions of dissatisfaction — they signal the fear and existential pessimism that have engulfed this community. Many believe the College is turning its back on its core values, while others fear it has already crossed a line from which it cannot return.
However, we should be cautious about framing this as a breaking point in Dartmouth’s story, as though actions by single individuals in the administration define the fate of the entire institution. Dartmouth’s resilient community has always kept the College alive — regardless of how bleak this moment might seem.
Reading through decades of The Dartmouth’s archives, it becomes clear that this is not the first time the College has faced a storm of discontent. From protests against injustices abroad to resistance to changes like co-education and the removal of the Native American mascot, decisions we now recognize as steps forward, outrage and reform have been constants in our history. Dartmouth has been shaped not only by those who led it but also by those who challenged it, questioned it and demanded more from it.
Dartmouth is not made by the president’s pen. It is made by people like you and I, who, regardless of their interests, political beliefs, backgrounds or nationalities are united by an unwavering love for the College we have learned to call home. It is made by the alumni, who carry the College’s name into the world and make it mean something. If we allow ourselves to believe that this moment determines everything, we forget the vastness of what came before and the potential of what may still come after. The voices raised over the past few weeks prove that students and alumni care deeply about this place. That should inspire hope, not despair.
And while we face ongoing challenges, we must also acknowledge the progress we’ve made. For those who believe that the College is at its worst, I implore you to reconsider. The 2024 Sexual Misconduct Survey shows an increase in perceptions of campus safety. Over time, the number of students from marginalized backgrounds has increased. Conversations about identity, mental health, climate justice and accountability don’t feel fringe. They are central to student life.
There is still much to be done. Free speech remains a contested terrain, where we constantly navigate the tension between open dialogue and institutional repercussions. Student workers remain dissatisfied. That said, claiming that Dartmouth is at its lowest point ignores the quiet triumphs unfolding daily in our classrooms, labs, dorms and student groups. These quiet victories may be as simple as an Indigenous student feeling comfortable on campus, more cutting-edge research being conducted in Thayer or new students launching start-ups at the Magnuson Centre. To reduce the spirit of this institution to one decision — even one that feels deeply symbolic — is to underestimate the very community that makes it worth defending.
I am neither defending College President Sian Leah Beilock’s silence nor dismissing the seriousness of this moment. There are real concerns here —about transparency, leadership, and whether the administration truly shares our values. Further, this is not to minimize the hurt or outrage of this moment. Both are real, and both demand a response. But outrage must be paired with perspective.
Otherwise, we risk losing sight of a broader truth: this College has weathered controversy before, and it will again.
Dartmouth’s character is not static. For centuries, it has been negotiated, reshaped and challenged by those who cared enough to speak up when it mattered. This moment will enter the College’s history, but it will not define it. What defines Dartmouth is the persistence of its people — their refusal to give up, their insistence on a better institution, and their belief that tradition and progress can still be reconciled.
So keep writing. Keep questioning. Keep pushing. But hold onto hope.
We will be okay — not because things are perfect, but because we are not done building this place.
Opinion articles represent the views of their author(s), which are not necessarily those of The Dartmouth.
