It was with great interest and much concern that I read in the Summer 2000 issue of The Observer that the University had bestowed an honorary degree on Salvadoran President Francisco Flores.

As the first University of Hartford alumnus to lead a nation, President Flores might seem an obvious choice for such an honor, until consideration is given to how and with whose help he came to power. His affiliation with the ARENA party which, (as the Hartford Courant pointed out) in the past has been linked to death squads, raises troubling questions. What kind of Faustian pact did he make with ARENA? Is he simply another of its victims? Who is using whom? What was it that made him acceptable to ARENA?

Did the University know of his background? If his background was known, was the intention to do more than honor a successful alumnus? Does awarding the degree lend itself to a perception that he (and ARENA) are thereby “sanitized?” Does the degree suggest our indifference to the avenues to power? Does the award encourage wings of either side to seek the favor of a place like ours, in the hope that doing so will cleanse them of their wrongs?

President Flores has been described as an enigma. So is every new leader. The issue is not that, but how does the system create a means of deciphering the “enigma?” Is it by example, by threat? Is it he who provides the key? That is critical. If it is he, fine, then we can, to a degree, be encouraged, but only if democracy can emerge. Then again, if it is he, is that the first step toward authoritarianism? Does the history of the country and region not play a role? Still, any- and everyone who comes to power by means of force, violence, and intimidation has legitimated force, violence, and intimidation as a valid political instrument.

When an honorary degree is awarded, it may be a simple case of optimism on the University’s part that either by the time of the bestowal or soon thereafter, the recipient will have imbibed sufficiently the splendors of freedom, law, and peaceful resolution of conflict to have become (rather than have been) worthy of the degree.

Perhaps the best way to have honored Flores would have been to hold the degree in escrow until such time as the noble sentiments urged in his remarks had been realized. Let us reward accomplishments— that is, what is completed, or at least begun with an eye to a more humane future. Let us refrain from rewarding mere promise. Promise itself has several meanings. One is that which I pledge another. The other is that which I earnestly expect to accomplish. They are not, either linguistically or logically, identical. Can one who came to power via death really and earnestly hope to become the life of a democratic inspiration?

Politicians attach themselves not merely to a predecessor but also to a continuum, to a sequence. So, the question becomes, does Flores break with the past? His remarks suggest that he might. So let us wait. His accomplishments may indeed be several. Let the realization of all that he said in his commencement address be at hand. The elevation of the Salvadorans means more than their economic rise. It means that they be taken seriously as competitors (not martyrs) in the conduct of politics. When Flores has at least announced this as his major goal and has taken steps to achieve it, he will have deserved the degree. That means he must divorce himself from ARENA. Therein lies the test.

Peter K. Breit
Professor of Politics and Government, Emeritus

As of the July 4 weekend, Michele is starting to become aware of what has happened and can really appreciate the visits from her family and friends. She would welcome e-mails, cards, letters, and/or visits.

Randy Sherman
12 Shetland Green
Belle Mead, NJ 08502
908-874-7255
resherman@rcn.com

Observer readers may be interested to know that the Class of 2000 is not the first to make such a gift. The graduating accounting majors in 1975 each made a pledge and later a donation of $500 each in honor of one of our professors—Dr. Bernard Goodman.

Will Shapiro ’75

My name is Lisa Lyons, and I am from the class of 1992.

I started to read the article happily, as I had just returned from my fifth trip to Israel, just a few weeks before. I am Jewish and love being in Israel for all the history and religious significance it brings to me and others that live there.

I enjoyed reading the article until this sentence: “I prayed with a couple of Hasidic Jews at the Western Wall in Jerusalem—and then found that I was expected to pay for the privilege.” I am astonished that David Isgur would think such a thing, let alone publish it. There is [not], and NEVER HAS BEEN, an admission fee to get to the Western Wall. Many Hasidic men beg regularly for money all over the city, due to the fact that most of them study all day and receive only nominal monies from the Yeshiva (religious school where they study). I have been approached by these men many times in Israel and never misconstrued this as a fee to be somewhere or [to] engage in prayer.

And furthermore, it is not a “privilege” to pray at the Wall; it is a choice. A free one. I am sure David knew this was not an admission fee; therefore, why would he publish something I feel was anti-semitic.

I am offended by the statement made by David Isgur and feel he should respond to my letter both personally and in the next Observer.

Sincerely,
Lisa Lyons ’92

As a Jew and someone who cares deeply about the land of Israel, I am sorry that you misinterpreted my words in the Bethsaida article. I never said that there was an admission fee to gain entrance to the Western Wall. I was merely trying to relate a humorous incident that happened to me, due primarily to my own naiveté.

On the morning of our first full day in Jerusalem, our group went by bus to the Western Wall in the Old City. As I was walking down to the Wall, a Hasidic gentleman was calling to me in my Hebrew name. Amazed that he knew my Hebrew name, I followed him into an antechamber in the area off the Western Wall. In this area, there are many arks (the sacred cabinet that holds the Torah) and stands where Orthodox Jews pray.

My guide then proceeded to place a prayer shawl around my shoulders and asked an older Hasidic man, the rebbe, to come over. We began to say a common Jewish prayer (the Shema) and several other prayers. My guide then had the rebbe say a special prayer over me and asked if I wanted him to say a prayer for my wife or children. I told him I had neither, and he said, Next time you come to Jerusalem, you will be married, and we will say a prayer for you and your wife.

I smiled, thanked him, took off the prayer shawl, and made ready to leave this area and return to the group.

My Hasidic guide stopped me and asked for an offering for Rebbe in return for the prayers. I took out my wallet and looked at the bills. My guide suggested a donation of 200 shekels (about $50 in U.S. dollars). I declined and gave him a 100-shekel bill. He then asked if I would make a donation to him to thank him for leading me to the rebbe. I gave him a 20-shekel bill. He then beckoned to another Hasidic gentleman nearby and suggested that I make a donation to him as well. At this point, I smiled, put my wallet back in my pocket and headed out to the Western Wall—$30 poorer, but wiser. I did say a silent prayer while touching the Wall, which was a moving experience for me.

As I walked away from the Western Wall, I still wondered how that gentleman knew my Hebrew name. Then I looked down and saw that I was wearing my name tag from the tour group. I laughed at myself for being such a knucklehead.

When telling the story later to people on the trip, both Jews and non-Jews, we all had a good laugh at my expense—a rube and his money are soon parted. This tale is a humorous one, poking fun at me and not meant to denigrate any person nor any religion.

I am sorry that you did not take the comments in the comedic way they were intended. I believe it’s important that we all be able to laugh at ourselves and our foibles.

David Isgur
Assistant Executive Director for Communications