Princeton’s Misguided Attempt to Erase Its Former President’s Legacy


P rinceton University is tiptoeing toward canceling its greatest president and a founder of our nation in a process that its trustees and president Christopher Eisgruber accelerated on October 2 by announcing that they would leave the statue of John Witherspoon in its prominent place on Firestone Plaza — but probably only for now. The issue has been punted to the “Campus Art Steering Committee” to decide whether the statue should be moved, or removed.

Witherspoon — a Presbyterian minister, scholar in Scotland, and signer of the Declaration of Independence — was recruited to become Princeton University’s sixth president in 1768 and served until his death in 1794, rescuing the university from possible bankruptcy while tutoring Princeton student James Madison as well as freed slaves. He was also a member of the Continental Congress.

The case against the statue is that Witherspoon — like other signers of the Declaration — owned slaves and opposed immediate abolition of slavery; he expressed concern about their ability to thrive if freed at once with neither training nor property to give them a start. 

The case for keeping the statue in place is that Witherspoon consistently supported total, though gradual, abolition of slavery; that he appears to have arranged for the emancipation of his own two slaves after his death, fragmentary New Jersey records suggest; that he had baptized a fugitive slave; and that he tutored free black men at Princeton. In his political life, as eminent Princeton history professor Sean Wilentz stressed at a Witherspoon symposium a year ago, Witherspoon “challenged the pro-slavery claim that abolition was unlawful, the dominant view in New Jersey politics. And he did so unequivocally as a member of the New Jersey General Assembly.” Wilentz added: “Witherspoon not only upheld that idea, the pro-abolitionist idea; he actually acted on it.”

Moreover, Reverend (and Witherspoon scholar) Kevin DeYoung’s recent work shows that not only did Witherspoon consistently advocate gradual abolition of slavery, he “likely practiced what he preached by making [his slave] ‘Forton Weatherspoon’ a householder of his own and giving him the opportunity to be fully emancipated, which he appears to have been shortly after Witherspoon’s death.” (Evidence suggests that the second of Witherspoon’s slaves was Forton’s wife.) 

These historical facts suggest that John Witherspoon was enlightened for his time about slavery — far more so than George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and James Madison, all of whom owned at least 100 slaves (and in Jefferson’s case, 600).

Princeton University itself recognized the greatness of Witherspoon earlier this century. He was described at the time of the statue’s installation in 2001 as “one of the most towering figures in Princeton’s history” by then-vice president and secretary of the university Robert Durkee, who added that “the creation of such a compelling sculpture by a gifted artist presented us with a tangible way to remind all who live, work and visit on this campus of the pivotal role Witherspoon played in shaping this University and this nation.”

But now, the university has been heavily influenced by progressive activists, and Witherspoon’s impressive legacy has been tarnished. The Princeton & Slavery Project’s essay on Witherspoon has portrayed him since 2017 as a hypocrite, and has repeatedly twisted facts to assume the worst about his motivations. The Princeton & Slavery Project has not updated its Witherspoon essay to reflect DeYoung’s findings. Nor has it ever taken account of Witherspoon’s role in the Presbyterian Church’s 1787 adoption of a resolution for the abolition of slavery. (President Eisgruber, who praised the Princeton & Slavery Project and its leaders in 2017, has ignored formal requests to correct misleading depictions of Witherspoon.)

The university’s committee on naming said that the statue “confers disproportionate honor on Witherspoon through its grandiose style,” which “fits within a historical tradition of canonizing white men,” and “makes it difficult for some to feel at home in the University community.” It recommended “that the statue be modified and, ideally, relocated,” as urged by a 2022 petition signed by 285 community members.

The trustees appear open to that option. Their detailed wording seems to imply that they have ducked their duty by punting the matter to a committee to lay the groundwork for future relocation or removal of the Witherspoon statue.

The statue is in a prominent location on campus — not because of its artistic merit, but because of what Witherspoon did for Princeton and the nation. As Wilentz said to the Princeton Alumni Weekly, a removal “on alleged aesthetic grounds” would “look too much of a candid world like a craven evasion of the fundamental issues at stake.”

The issue is whether Princeton should degrade Witherspoon — and what he did to launch the fledgling school toward greatness and help establish the nation — in order to pass moral judgment on his ownership of two slaves and in spite of his relatively enlightened relationship with slavery.

Will Princeton join the woke-ideologue project of eclipsing the founding generation on account of its great sin — African slavery? A great sin it was. But no nation, no leader, no great man or woman, has been free of sin. And Witherspoon’s sin was not on the scale of his fellow Founding Fathers.

Ultimately, Princeton is approaching cancellation of Witherspoon based on an incomplete and misleading foundation that ignores relevant facts. A resolution might be to add a fourth tablet explaining Witherspoon’s ownership of slaves — and advocacy of eventual abolition — to the three tablets that explain his legacies as a patriot, president, and preacher. And to leave the statue where it is.

Stuart Taylor, Jr. and Edward Yingling are the co-founders of Princetonians for Free Speech.