# 2026 Summer Message from the Dean ![Portrait of Sean Kelly](/sites/g/files/omnuum756/files/styles/hwp_1_1__360x360_scale/public/2024-07/Sean.jpg?itok=HVQWIbpH) Dear Artists and Humanists! *Civil twilight* is the half-lit period before sunrise during which there is enough natural light for ordinary human activities to proceed. The phrase is usually attributed to the Swiss polymath J. H. Lambert, who coined it in the late eighteenth century. The term captures a characteristically modern impulse: to describe even the beauty of the sunrise in terms of what we can use it for. An English educator writing in 1817 defined *civil twilight* as the twilight “which allows to labour and to read.” This morning, in Cambridge, civil twilight began shortly after 4:30 a.m. If, like me, you have inadequate curtains, I recommend a sleeping mask. You have earned a respite from the call of the rising sun! It has been a long year, with remarkable highs and difficult lows. The best part of this year has been the renaissance we are beginning to spark in the arts and humanities. Many of you have heard me report that, during the twenty-year period from 2005-06 to 2024-25, Harvard saw dramatic declines in enrollment (down by 17.5%) and in concentrator numbers (down by 40%) in the arts and humanities. These are crude markers and they hide much of the story; but they are an indication of what we have all felt. The *Crimson* editors who, in 2013, [celebrated](https://www.thecrimson.com/article/2013/11/8/let-them-eat-code/) this decline were both a reflection and a harbinger of the trend. But we are responding. This year, we designed and taught new introductory courses, made or considered changes in concentration requirements, and doubled down on the responsibility we have to invite our students into the pleasures and the benefits of education in the arts and humanities. This has had a real effect. The statistics are still being compiled and studied, but it’s already clear that, as a percentage of total undergraduate enrollment, our numbers have increased considerably. This is a huge win for our students, for our community, and for the arts and humanities. I am so grateful to you for this amazing work! The arts and humanities are more important now than ever. We are where the great questions of human existence are asked and explored. And there has never been a greater need for this exploration than now. In this age of AI, I see a palpable hunger among our students for better opportunities and richer resources to confront the questions that define us as human: Where have we come from? Who have we become? And whom do we want to have the courage to be? The monsters that we imagine for ourselves tell us important things about who we are. Dante’s Satan froze all movement in the universe, while Milton’s Satan was the dark precursor of modern autonomy. Shelley’s monster was physically grotesque and eventually was driven to violence by despair, while his creator, Dr. Frankenstein, was irresponsible, self-absorbed, and unwilling to care for his creation. What will our newest creation, generative AI, disclose about what we aspire to be or whom we fear we may become? We must rise to the occasion of helping our students to confront these questions. We must show again how the arts and humanities are the soul of a liberal arts education. Fortunately, we do not undertake this work alone. I have been enormously grateful this year for the support we have received from the alumni and donors I have met. They have responded enthusiastically to our emphasis on the rigor and significance of our pursuits, and many have stepped up in remarkable ways to support the arts and humanities. We have been the fortunate recipient, this year alone, of millions of dollars that will go to new professorships, graduate fellowships, student experience funds, and flexible funds to start up new initiatives in the arts and humanities. But it is no secret that this year has also been difficult. New hiring has been frozen the entire year, our non-ladder faculty budget and graduate cohorts were cut, operating budgets were reduced, and of course we are undergoing a workforce planning reorganization. I remain hopeful that we will come out the other side stronger, but I won’t pretend it isn’t difficult. Still, I find some comfort in the words of Marcus Aurelius, that great Stoic emperor, who said, “Are you afraid of change? But what can happen without change? And what could be more natural and more at home in the universe?” \[*Meditations* VII.18\] Change, my friends, is the home we live in. Change is unsettling. The ground we stand upon is ever moving. Still, that is grounds for hope. The Greek tragedian Sophocles said that human existence is the most awesome, the most terrible, and yes, the most wonderful thing there is. In moments of great upheaval, we sometimes forget to notice that the terrible aspects of life are inextricably mixed with the awesome and the wonderful ones. That is a hopeful truth we should all strain to remember. And it is a challenge to which all of us must rise. A moment like this is not easy, but we will get through it together. Indeed, in times of change like this, we must come together. We must lean upon one another and give courage to the ones we know and love. I know we will find a way to do that. Let us hold our heads high, therefore. Let us take care of our friends and co-workers, and let us continue to believe in the work that we all do. I am so proud to be a part of this strong, creative, and devoted community of people who serve the arts and humanities. Thank you for all you do. With all warm wishes, ![Sean signature](/sites/g/files/omnuum756/files/styles/hwp_1_1__100x100_scale/public/2026-06/Sean%20singnature%20short.jpg?itok=BDUxT5A2) \-- Dean of Arts and Humanities Teresa G. and Ferdinand F. Martignetti Professor of Philosophy Harvard College Professor