Toward a Freer Speech on Campus

A Perspective from the Concerned Student of 1791

Protests as at Mizzou, Claremont McKenna, and Yale have swept the nation as of late, and like many, we are gripped by the accusations of cultural insensitivity, racial injustice, and institutional culpability of our universities. As UC Berkeley seniors, we have long watched as students on our campus and across the country have taken to the quad and newsfeed to air their grievances and condemnations. In light of the recent metastasis of such displays as exemplified by the actions of the Concerned Student 1950 group at Mizzou, we too are driven to enter the conversation—albeit for rather uncommon reasons.

We are concerned with that strain of student activism—oft adopted by a number of our fellow collegians—which flagrantly undermines the principles of free inquiry that underpin the essence of the university. At its core, the university is about the pursuit and dissemination of truth, which may sometimes be at odds with the prevailing winds of public opinion outside its august doors. As students arm themselves with trigger warnings and claims of micro-aggressions, our universities increasingly resemble infirmaries for those of fragile feelings rather than strongholds for the audacious. The voice conspicuously missing in all the hullabaloo of the past few weeks is that of the student who recognizes the pernicious ramifications of such displays, the voice of Concerned Student 1791, if you will. What, then would such a student find so problematic about these displays?

Perhaps most harmful to the possibility of a healthy intellectual community is the appeal protesters frequently make to a peculiar epistemology of essentialist solipsism. Their arguments take the form, because you are not a woman/African American/homosexual/illegal immigrant/Muslim/poor person, et cetera you are incapable of understanding the struggles inherent in and particular to members of said group. Take seriously the claims of cutting-edge theories of intersectionality, and it becomes manifestly apparent that a cisgender half Pacific Islander, half Native American ninety-nine percenter cannot possibly understand the plight of a skoliosexual half Pacific Islander, half Native American ninety-nine percenter. This epistemological attitude takes as impossible the ability of human beings to empathize with and evaluate the claims of their brothers and sisters across barriers of time, culture, and identity group. To accept this position is effectively to deny the possibility of commonly understood literary, intellectual, and human experiences, at least if one does not share the gender, socioeconomic status, and race of a book’s author or of one’s interlocutor.

How then do we account for the disjuncture between this essentialist solipsism in victimhood and the pragmatic broadness of coalitions in resistance? As a victim of a purported racial microaggression, how is it that one can make common cause with a victim of a purportedly sexist microaggression? Conceptually, the two are incommensurable as experiences with racial and sexist microaggressions are qualitatively different. Should not the principled solipsist reject allying with those unable to comprehend his or her experiences? As solipsist, he or she must, but such solipsism is selective. This is where the concept of solidarity enters.

To stand in solidarity is to bear witness to the experiences and truth claims of others, which one must take on faith alone. Protestors are often quick to ally with members of different identity groups—to stand in solidarity—on the grounds of perceived mutual-victimhood. Victims distinct in their perceived victimhood recognize the perceived victimhood of those victims whose experiences they putatively cannot comprehend. Where victimhood was before a matter of individual experience, it becomes one of corporate identity. To question the victimhood narrative is heresy, and it is deemed sufficient grounds for selectively excluding members of the university from engaging in the conversation. From here on out, it is all politics. The idea of principled essentialist solipsism degenerates into a pithy justification selectively invoked when politically fruitful.

Leveraging the privilege of victimhood in today’s cultural milieu, such protestors wield virtually uncheckable power. As they alone can know the nature and intensity of the putative injustice, trauma, and/or dehumanization they claim to have suffered, their claims are not verifiable by individuals outside of their particular group or its allies. On these grounds, they bar non-group members from participating critically in discussions of race, class, and gender, and accordingly take themselves alone to be capable of divining when and if their demands have been met. Taken to its logical limit, intersectionality lends itself to the belief that one can never understand—and certainly never pass judgment on—another human being and his or her experiences and decisions. By removing the experiences and relevant judgments of supposedly marginalized groups from the arena of legitimate debate, essentialist solipsists have come to exercise arbitrary power in demarcating the ambit of acceptable inquiry within the university and beyond.

As a result of this epistemological outlook, today’s student activism all too often takes on a totalizing and zero-sum character, where supposed efficacy in attracting attention trumps all consideration for the rights of others. Certain protesters and organizations take prolonged physical occupation of public spaces to be a necessary and justified reaction to a world that seems not to notice them. Yet such indiscriminate transgressions against ordinary life must be rejected as fanatical and better-suited to the tactical arsenal of terrorist cells. Similarly, shouting down those one disagrees with goes beyond exercising one’s right to free speech. Time, place, and manner do matter, and such forms of protest seek to silence others rather than to encourage thoughtful dialogue. Where illiberal activists are better organized, they often attempt to preemptively censor speakers on campus with whom they are likely to take offense.

As a nation, we have registered the frustration of protesters from Berkeley to Mizzou; now is the time for serious reflection. Herein, we have identified a number of issues with the epistemological attitude and tactical approach of today’s activist culture. Student activists would do well to remember that they are students, and that the university is a place of ideas. Understanding comes from careful study of our civilization’s greatest accomplishments and from honest—and at times uncomfortable—conversations with those who are unlike us. It is not enough to profess love for the downtrodden, the marginalized, and the oppressed; the world is a complex place, and one is uniquely situated to take in its richness during one’s undergraduate years. Those truly concerned with equality, freedom, and justice must thus grapple with these great and elusive concepts, lest they unknowlingly betray them in their putative pursuit.

This is not to say that there is no place for principled and outspoken dissent in the university. To the contrary, the university is the crucible where contending ideas are subjected to fierce critique in the heat of debate. By way of conclusion, we humbly submit three rules of thumb whereby activists may protest in a manner worthy of the First Amendment and the university’s endeavor. 1) Use your speech to ignite principled engagement with the issues, not to extinguish the voices of others. 2) Respect the diverse ways people use public spaces, and refrain from monopolizing them with bodily blockades or disproportionate noise. 3) Scrap the inane chants in favor of compelling arguments, aesthetically presented; protest with an eye to the history books and the creation of culture. Following these rules of thumb, activism can become a good and productive exercise, not to mention a force for good in the world. It is our strongest conviction that the American project is mankind’s best hope, that the American project requires a robust and ongoing competition of ideas, and that the competition of ideas is best cultivated and curated in a free and open university.

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Nicolas L. Jaber & Nihal Singh