Restoring Free Speech and Liberty on Campus

Donald Alexander Downs

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005; ISBN: 0-521-83987-4; Pp. xxi, 295; index

Much ink has been spilled, both from left-handed and right-handed authors, on the vice and virtues of political correctness (PC) on campus. Although the debate seems to have abated a bit these days, the PC issue still roils people here and there, and there is still the occasional absurdity resulting from an ill-conceived desire to do good by unimaginative administrators on campuses. But whether it's because academics have wised up to the folly of re-education, or because the public's glare has made the less sane variants appear stupid, or because courts have forced change, the University today does not appear to be in grave danger of going overboard, at least not as much as it seemed to do a decade ago. This does not mean we should rest content: vigilance is the eternal price of liberty.

Perhaps at the risk of over-simplifying the issue, let me attempt a summary of the main problem. Traditionally, the University has been seen as that special place where people pursue knowledge for its own sake (at least that's what happened at the end of the 19th century, and this has been the goal for most of the 20th). Because this pursuit requires one to go honestly whenever the logic of the inquiry leads, the University had to be insulated from political pressure; that is, academics had to be protected from the government and the public. Otherwise, one could imagine a legislature decreeing that π is going to equal 3 "for convenience," or the public voting schools to teach creationism instead of evolution. Of course, we all know that this splendid isolation was rudely interrupted during the McCarthy era, with faculty either dismissed or required to sign oaths of allegiance. One shudders when one thinks what would have happened to the hapless soul that tried to teach the version of history of the Cold War that today goes under the respectable name "revisionism." Still, for the most part the University was a universe unto itself, and its administrators (and faculty) could regulate almost everything, down to what the students could or could not do. In some ways, the University saw itself as the parent the young impressionable not-quite-adults needed during their transitional period. To wit, the University would oversee the students' transformation from irresponsible kids to potentially productive citizens.

The 1960s saw the first great change away from this Ivory Tower mentality, this time coming from within the University. The Berkeley Free Speech Movement (FSM) essentially demanded an end to the obsolete parenting role. The FSM participants did not believe that truth (which is what the University was supposed to be pursuing free of political pressure) could be separated from politics. The Vietnam War abroad, and the civil strife at home seemed to show clearly that one could not separate politics and morality from truth, especially when the burning issues like poverty, injustice, and racism made everything else look "more impersonal and less authentic in many students' eyes" (p. 5). The idea perhaps was to get the University to acknowledge that the separation was artificial, and perhaps to involve itself in the pursuit of truth and the political simultaneously. This was the end of the "parenting" to students who demanded their recognition and their right to speak freely on politically unpopular topics. The legacy of the FSM can be discerned on the modern campuses all over the country: almost everywhere students are recognized as vital members of the academic community, they can (almost always) influence University policies, and they are not to be ignored, nor their rights (again, mostly) trampled. But the pendulum swung way too far...

Sometime during the 1980s (the author puts the fateful year at 1987), the new freedoms started turning into new oppression. Unlike the McCarthy era, the attack came from within the halls of academia. The University began to silence voices that were incompatible with its newly discovered mission to train citizens with appropriate moral and ethical views. The new citizen was supposed to be sensitive to issues of race, gender, class, and sexual orientation (among others). That citizen was supposed to be aware of the legacy of white European male Protestant (WEMP) oppression of other races (especially blacks and Indians), of women, and of homosexuals, at the very least. The University set out to correct these historic wrongs (without examining whether these wrongs were real or imagined), and to expiate for its own perceived sins. In particular, along with the re-education of the WEMPs, it attempted to create an environment where non-WEMPs would thrive. What kind of environment? Well, one where their voices would be heard. In this, the University assumed that:

Each non-WEMP's ideas would be identified with the group the individual belonged to. That is, a black person is automatically assumed to think like every other black person; a woman---like any other woman; a gay---like any other gay. The rise of identity politics did not allow for individual diversity, only group diversity. The question of which group a black lesbian would belong to was never adequately resolved.
Each non-WEMP's main problem would be an -ism against its group. That is, a black person would be most concerned about racism against blacks, rather than, say, non-Euclidean geometry, and a woman would be most concerned with Newton's "rape manual" rather than, say, genetics. Recognizing that this might be a problem, brave souls set out to uncover African theories of aerodynamics and feminist ways of adding two and two. This is still work in progress.
Each non-WEMP's main obstruction to education would be the oppression by the WEMPs. A black would be silenced by a racist remark, a female would retreat when a WEMP stares at her. That is, the non-WEMPs were assumed incapable of defending their ideas in public, and they were assumed to be as sensitive to moronic remarks as someone afflicted by lupus is to a midday Californian sun.

From these assumptions it naturally followed that WEMPs would have to be re-educated into proper sensitivity toward the gentler oppressed classes. The bonus, of course, was this would also make them nice citizens who probably would vote for slave reparations and Earth-awareness spirituality any day. Heck, if they went socialist, so much the better.

All of that now meant that the University, being the fair institution that everyone knew it to be, would devise rules and regulations that would prevent the WEMPs from abusing their historically superior position and making wanton remarks that would hurt the sensibilities of all the appropriate non-WEMPs, leading them to shut themselves in, thereby causing their deprivation by denying them the opportunity to learn about all the evils the WEMPs have done to them. And who better to enforce these rules than the army of bureaucrats (commonly known as administrators) who had a stake in perpetuating their positions at various Ethnic Studies, Women's Studies, Black Studies, and Whatever That Is Non-WEMP Studies departments?

Unfortunately, all these worthy goals depended on two things. First, said administrators would be like infallible gods who never make mistakes, never abuse their powers, and never do anything less than brilliant. Second, the public would actually allow the re-education program if it found out about it. The University was quite aware that its progressive ways would probably not endear it to the common folk out there who could not appreciate the true progressive spirit of reforms, being brainwashed by corporate-controlled media and wallowing in anti-intellectualism to begin with. So it resolved to keep the programs secret. It never did occur to the University that administrators were human.

Enter Mr Downs and this book. The author, a professor at University of Wisconsin - Madison, was heavily involved in getting UW to repeat its speech code (the internal regulation that placed restrictions on what the students and faculty could say). His perspective is important for two reasons. First, he has the insider's view. Second, he is one of those rare people who actually changed their minds: he went from supporting the code to actively working to abolish it altogether. The book, however, is more than a personal account of the UW case. It is actually an attempt to explain how these speech codes can get overturned. That is, he is interested in "the politics of resistance and mobilization against the illiberal practices associated with such policies" (p. 12). To this end, he makes heavy use of Kuran's famous book Private Truths, Public Lies. The argument there would be instantly recognizable to anyone from behind the Iron Curtain who recalls the fateful 1989. This was the year when the communist system collapsed overnight throughout Eastern Europe when people suddenly found out that their hatred of the system was widely shared. The moment the threat to repress dissent was gone, people could publicly say what has been on their minds all along: this thing sucks, let's get rid of it!

Less informally, Mr Kuran's argument is related to Schelling's "tipping point" idea: a convention will fall apart when enough people cease to practice it (e.g. footbinding in China disappeared in that way). The problem is that the anti-system movement has to get off the ground before it can gather strength, and that's the most difficult part for it requires that a few dedicated individuals persevere in the face of adversity, despite the real danger of being ostracized (even by the same people who will likely join them in the future!), and without even knowing if their ideas are widely supported privately. Mr Downs argues that there is, in fact, substantial resistance to the speech codes among faculty, and possibly students too if they realize what restrictions they really entail. The problem is mobilizing that resistance and making it work.

What are the problems with speech codes? Only that small thing known as the First Amendment on which most of this republic's liberties depend on. On one hand, I think that it is imperative to provide a safe environment that is conducive to the exchange of ideas that is so important to both accumulation of knowledge and personal growth. On the other hand, I do not believe that restricting speech is the way to go about doing that. First, the best way to weed out bad ideas is to expose them to public debate where they never survive. Silencing the people who espouse these ideas deprives them of finding out why they are wrong, and it deprives those who are right of knowing why they are right. Being right without knowing why is worthless. And dangerous, too. This, of course, requires that everyone should be able to air their ideas so that the rough-and-tumble of public debate can separate the sheep from the goats. It also makes individuals responsible for their ideas, meaning that they will have to defend them in a public forum, where illogic, prejudice, and just stupidity can all be exposed. Second, despite the laudable goals of the administrators (who Plato would call the guardians), they are all fallible human beings, who make mistakes, who go overboard, who have feelings, and who can be as blind and prejudiced as a KKK member. No policy that assumes people are angels can work. In fact, it is guaranteed to fail completely causing untold misery to everyone who is subjected to it.

By way of analogy, let me offer the ideal socialist person (the term is untranslatable but the idea is that such a person would possess all the skills, physical attributes, and knowledge to be a productive member of society and a worthy citizen). There really is nothing wrong with wanting people to be healthy, educated, and skilled. What is wrong, however, is subjecting everyone to the same standard and enforcing uniformity of thought. By definition, a good citizen would not question socialism (as a transition to communism), would not wonder if capitalism is bad, and would not believe that it is good to subject the individual to the community. I am bringing this as an example of the evil that can come out of seemingly innocuous and ostensibly good aspirations because the speech codes are equivalent. And look what happened to the elite behind the Iron Curtain, the guardians. Their depredations knew no bounds. If the University has managed to escape all that (not everywhere), it really is a matter of luck and timely reaction.

Anyway, back to Mr Downs. After quickly going over the basic history of FSM and the rise of the PC "movement" on campus, he delves into four case studies. First is the Columbia sexual misconduct policy that went so far overboard one could not hear the splash. A few students managed to organize an aggressive group that bullied the administration and faculty into passing a policy that privileged the alleged victim to such an extent that it virtually presupposed guilt and denied due process to the alleged perpetrator. Only when an external intervention by the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education (FIRE) showed other students that not everyone agreed with the madness did they organize and successfully forced changes in the policy. Mr Downs notes the lamentable lack of understanding that students displayed of the principles of due process and civil liberties. This would be a leitmotif for the book: students (and sometimes faculty) would ardently support positions they believe to be morally right without bothering to examine what is being sacrificed in the process.

The second case really comprises a series of pretty scandalous events at Berkeley, the supposed bastion of free speech, but recently among the most oppressive campuses both east and west of Brigham Young University. Some of us have heard about the Daily Californian fiasco when the paper printed Mr Horowitz's provocative ad about slave reparations (reproduced, for convenience, in an appendix), and when it was forced to apologize for doing so after militant groups registered their hurt feelings. The hapless editors found themselves between the Scylla of intolerance for alternative thought and Charybdis of the free press which reacted with dismay to this suppression of free speech. Mr Downs then spends most of his time on the post-Proposition 209 (the one that banned affirmative action for admissions) life at the Berkeley law school. It is not entirely clear what the purpose of this case really is. Whereas it appears to be true that certain (conservative) individuals found it nearly impossible to speak out, it is also true that all the railing against the system did nothing to change Prop. 209 and its consequences. It is lamentable that students would be silenced, but this was not the case of institutional oppression. Rather, it was precisely what one deplores when the situation is reversed: here, WEMPs could not say what they believed because they felt they would be ostracized. So at Berkeley, at least, the problem seems to be that the University needs to provide a safe environment where these individuals could express their thoughts without being molested by the moral majority! I am glad that nobody recommended a speech code to do that. At any rate, I do not know what to take away from this case study.

The third case is the famous "water buffalo" incident at the University of Pennsylvania. It was told at length by the main participant, Alan Kors, in his book The Shadow University, and judging by the footnotes, Mr Downs' account heavily relies on that. The case does not really support Mr Kuran's theory all that well: here, a dedicated individual managed to bring in outside pressure to bear on the administration. The change was forced by the ancient process of shaming the perpetrator: what they were doing was so obviously and irredeemably stupid, that the tiniest ray of light would cause the administration to scatter like so many bats in a bad vampire flick. Of course, in this case, the sunshine coming from the media looked more like the explosion of a hydrogen bomb but who ever said that press attention is a bad thing (except Nixon and Penn administrators)? Although the Penn case shows that one can defeat lunacy by bringing in reporters and the courts, one has to wonder about the advisability of such a method: after all, if the University is to remain free from political interference, one should not run around setting precedents for citizen outrage or court activism. Or very soon we may find ourselves teaching what the public considers practical and what the courts consider edifying.

The final, and most extensive, case is naturally the rise and fall of the UW speech code. It makes for a fascinating story: a core of faculty activists aided by several very able and dedicated students organize an opposition to the code, mobilize support for it, and after some breathless parliamentary maneuvering actually succeed in abolishing it altogether, much to their surprise! This case demonstrates the clearest support for the Kuran hypothesis: a latent opposition was awakened by a group of firebrand leaders, and once the initial confrontation poked a small hole in the dam wall, the water rushed in obliterating the entire wall in its path. Mr Downs alludes several times to (but does not really discuss) the preference to keep things "in house" rather than automatically reach for the courts or for external pressure groups. The group did rely on the media, but perhaps not nearly as much as Mr Kors had in the Penn incident. However, the basic lesson does appear to be that if you want the administration to take you seriously, you have to bring in the press, at least until you have enough faculty support to make your position credible.

In the end, perhaps the most disappointing aspect of the book is that it narrates too much but analyses too little. As I indicated above, the Kuran theory does not explain all that well what happens in some of these cases. In fact, one wonders why the tipping cannot happen when one educates enough people that their position is untenable (e.g. students who come to realize how important free speech and due process really are). If that can happen, then the problem is not falsification of preferences for public consumption, but having bad ideas and not knowing it. Of course, this immediately demonstrates why restrictions on sharing ideas is really bad: how can one find out that one is wrong if the opposition is silenced? Mr Downs does show very clearly the dangers in arguing from a moral position without examining its content. In this he (and I) agree with Socrates, at least Dana Villa's interpretation of his view: "virtually every moral belief becomes false and an incitement to injustice the moment it becomes unquestioned or unquestionable" (cited on p. 22).

In the end, the book's value lies mostly in offering hope to those beleaguered believers in free speech who have been silenced by the political oppression by well-meaning but ultimately misguided university administrators. If nothing else, it is worth reading this just for the upbeat message. Then, of course, one can quickly get depressed again by perusing the occasional scandals in The Chronicle of Higher Education.

P.S. I am happy to report that as of today, FIRE reports my home institution, UCSD, as a green-light University. That is, a University whose policies protect free speech. It is the only green-light among the UC campuses, four of which, including Berkeley and UCLA, are red!

May 2, 2005