Mark Harrison Moore – 50th Reunion Essay

Mark Harrison Moore

331 Waverley St

Belmont, Massachusetts 02478

mark_moore@hks.harvard.edu

617-484-3716

Spouse(s): Martha Church Moore (1969)

Child(ren): Phoebe Sylvina, (1971), Tobias McFeely (1974), Gaylen Williams (1979)

Grandchild(ren): William, (2008), Zoe (2010), Harriet (2013), Frances (2014), Maude (2014), Mary George (2017)

Education: Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University; MPP 1971; PhD 1974

Career: Among First PhDs in Public Policy; Professor, Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University

College: Pierson

The account I offered for our 25th reunion focused on the experience of sitting in the Old Campus listening to a speech by Jodi Foster on the occasion of my eldest daughter’s graduation from Yale. In exhorting the Class of 1993 forward, she relied on the metaphor of an arrow, launched into the air, with no certainty about how far it would go, or where it would land.

I liked the metaphor, and applied it to my own trajectory. At the time, I felt pretty good. I had a great job as a professor at Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government, and felt I was doing my part to make that fledgling but important institution a success. My family life was flourishing. My wife had chosen to devote herself to raising our three children, and the results, in my view, had been magnificent—all three the kind of hopeful, engaged, resourceful individuals who made good lives, good communities, and good societies. The arrow might be wobbling a bit, but it was still flying and headed toward the target.

Twenty-five years later, I do not feel quite as good. Not a surprise, of course. Nature has a way of mocking the youthful conviction that one is both invincible and immortal. But it was not just my aging brain and body that were letting me down. It was also the times, and more particularly, the success of my small efforts to have an impact on the times.

My education at Yale had been superb. And it filled me with hope—even confidence—that reason, empathy, and a strong sense of justice could advance rapidly in the world. The work to which I committed my professional career (developing the Kennedy School) was to be the vehicle through which I could make my small contribution.

But the last 25 years have not been kind to that vision. I have watched the country choose individuals to be their president who had little competence, and even worse character. I have watched the political process become corrupted, cynical, and willfully ignorant and deceptive. I have watched the social and political culture of the country become coarse, frightened, and mean. I have watched society as a whole—including even those individuals who would like to contribute to improving conditions in society—turn their back on democratic governance as a reliable means for making social progress. I have watched my own institution wring its hands and fumble as it tried to get a purchase on the forces that were pushing toward a radically individualized and materialistic society.

So, my life’s path is now on the predictable descent of that arrow that was launched so bravely 50 years ago. I can see what lies ahead for me.

Thud!

It’s sad.

But like generations before, I take some satisfaction from having done what I could to advance important public values in the world even if it was less than I had hoped. I take even more satisfaction (and great pleasure and inspiration) in feeling the strength of the family that my wife of 50 years has created. Three children (all Yale educated!), their three spouses, six grandchildren—all full of optimism, courage, and resolve—provide a comfortable and sturdy bier on which to repose.