Written by Emma Weber
Here I am, in the Bison’s 99th edition during Harding’s 100th year of school writing to a body of students about my opinions. So hear me when I say, I don’t care about the Centennial. I know by publishing this I am putting myself on the blacklist of Harding, so if this is my last article, know I loved you all.
I think history is great. I’ve spent many hours scouring the Brackett Library’s archives with my friends Randi and Helen simply for my own enjoyment. If you’ve looked in past copies of the Bison or The Petit Jean, you can see the rich history that Harding holds. What I see happening with the Centennial, however, is a celebration without much acknowledgement of failure. We, the Harding of today, are the keepers of narrative, so when we only present one side of the story we lose the unique opportunity to admit missteps. Harding is an institution that has failed many times and will continue to fail until its end. This is because it is not God, it is an institution.
I am not the only Opinions Editor to hold this belief. In 1958, one author addressed the college using very direct language:
“It has been often observed that Christian and American ideals are continually preached here, but rarely practiced. If the Golden Rule and the Bill of Rights were less often memorized and more often synthesized into action, Harding College would be a freer, happier, more productive citadel of uninhibited truth.”
This is commentary on the rampant Nationalist Christianity and political agendas of presidents that were invading the walls built by pacifists to foster religious education during that time. Although this conversation was not directly related to the integration of Harding — a result of the pressure from administration to end discussions — it is implied in other articles that the events of Little Rock were in the forefront of student’s minds.
For years, during the height of the Civil Rights Movement, President George S. Benson actively fought against many things: communism, the financial crisis Harding was in, and integration. Benson spoke openly about his opinions on the school’s segregation and seemed to have a hand in the silence of the discussions The Bison desired to have, although this can only be inferred from archives.
When I hear stories like this, I wonder what we are supposed to do. Benson passed away holding the hand of a close friend and mentee, a native from Zambia, Rayton Sianjina, who spoke of Benson’s redemption story. But does that negate the fact that Benson was an active participant in something so harmful to Harding’s community? How do we honor the experience of Sianjina who said, “He took his last breath as I was holding his hand. The last person he saw on this earth was a Black man as he parted this life to see the face of God. From seeing a Black man to seeing Christ Jesus is a testament to the redemptive story of his life.”
I believe that our role in history is complex. As ever-changing humans, we need to recognize and honor the complexity of the scope of what we can know. The culture of the time was different, yet the hurt and consequences were and still are real. When we refuse any conversation on the failure of leaders, we are continuing a cycle in which the hurt are further silenced. When we spend this 100th year celebrating our accomplishments, where is the discussion of what we did — and maybe continue to do — wrong?
This is just one example where this is the case. When the privileged are in charge of promoting the narrative, there is always the opportunity to provide a chronicle that holds only one side. It is hard to have complex conversations where we both affirm the harm that was committed against different communities on campus, such as the Black community, and the fact that Benson did good things for Harding. This is a conversation that is too large for an infographic or phone booth in the Brackett Library. That doesn’t mean it’s not a conversation worth having.
As students and faculty and the community of Harding today, we are responsible for honoring the stories of Harding that may not be told in chapel. We must look at the past with honor, without revering it as holy. Harding is an institution that has failed, and I don’t believe institutions are worth blindly celebrating. When we think deeply about things, we may find a deeper appreciation for the struggle that many have had in their dedication to make Harding better. This is something worth celebrating.
