Tom Nichols’ recent piece understandably reflects many variants of ongoing concerns and criticisms towards universities and the perceived overreaching of students. Whilst his argument undoubtedly has grounding in certain facts and events that have transpired over the past decade, his overarching conclusion emerges from a great leap – some would say, one deeply uncharitable to his imagined opponents – in arriving at the conclusion that we ought not “let students run the university”. I want to examine each of his claims in order, and flag where the key issues are.
Claim #1: College students believe that they should be running the university, and this is bad.
It is unclear to me how advancing for policy reforms, calling for greater oversight in faculty appointments, demanding heightened levels of transparency in the curriculum design and selection of core texts for curricula could constitute “running a university” – running a university involves oversight over its finances and sponsorships, its hiring and firing policies, its internal promotional metric and publicity, alongside the many other countless, complex realities that administrators must combat. Students have no interest (or, indeed, specialised expertise) to “run” all of these areas, which is precisely what they are not doing in the status quo.
Many students do employ existing feedback mechanisms – from course feedback to pastoral support system – in channeling their discontents. Only when these institutions clearly fail them by shutting them out or silencing them, do they justifiably turn to alternatives, not out of petulance – but out of despair and reasonable anger.
Furthermore, given that universities have transformative powers over the identities and future life chances of students, that students (especially in private universities) pay at times exorbitant fees to sustain the pay of administrators and senior academics, it is unclear why they should not be granted a say. Indeed, commercialisation of higher education is a trend we ought to regret to a certain degree; yet let’s not conflate treating students as customers to be pampered and served, with treating contributors to a cooperative project with the minimum respect and recognition they deserve. College students are no pre-teens and young teenagers; they may be bushy-eyed, but this does not render them incapable of decision-making or contributing towards meaningful self-governance.
Claim #2: Students have too much power over hiring and firing policies.
Here Nichols may reply: these students are indeed “demanding a say in the hiring and firing of faculty whose views they merely happen not to like.” He cites Camille Paglia, and Sarah Lawrence College as examples to support his projection that the ongoing trend is deeply worrying.
Let’s get this straight right off the bat – Nichols may well be correct. His worry stems from a place of reasonable concern: that is, the undeniably perturbing trends of certain students in a very limited number of campuses engaging in radical activism that leads to – at times – disproportionate consequences, such as sacking of faculty that do not conform with particular objectives advanced by the movement, even when such outcomes are arguably unjustified or unwarranted. In particular, calls to no-platform notable progressive activists or prominent philosophers with views contrary to particular strands of progressive thought have arisen in some cases, and one may reasonably see this as a classic instance of the “left eating itself”, preferencing purity politics over ideological diversity.
All that is fair.
Yet a good argument does not cherry picking make. Where there have been overreaches, there have also been reasonable cases where student agitation has been a positive force – from the reprimanding of individuals with dubious history in consent and sexual interactions or connections to eugenics conferences, to the recognition that ‘Academic Freedom’ cannot be an absolute veil behind which one can sprout whatever forms of hateful bigotry towards groups that lack political and social currency, to changing the curriculum to make it (on the contrary to some conservative reimagination) more inclusive and diverse in the views discussed, and thus range of ideas to which students are exposed. The latter appears to be a move that even Allan Bloom himself, a figure often cited as the intellectual patron against the “closing of the American Mind”, would hypothetically endorse.
More importantly, university administrators have been and are capable of pushing back against the excesses of this wave of activism – from Philadelphia to Vermont, concerns such as the fact that diversification is allegedly “especially expensive for a small institution in rural New England” are both channeled to state authorities and in public appeals for donations, or alternatively incorporated into the decision-making calculus of influential figures within campuses. If the so-called ‘shortcoming’ is that some students are “mistaking themselves for presidents and provosts”, I’d say this is – if anything – a gain: given the fact that the university and academia have historically been hailed as the training ground for budding minds and future leaders of tomorrow, where better should we train future academics and intellectuals than in universities?
Finally, let us not over-simplify the free speech/academic debate. Amia Srinavasan and Robert Simpson (2018) offer an incisive take on the question of no-platforming (which can, to some extent, be applied to the question of academic freedom in general). There is nothing wrong with espousing ‘controversial’ or ‘offensive’ views – most students aren’t campaigning against ‘offense’ or ‘controversy’; when a university enacts a hiring or promotional decision, it does so in a way that implicitly i) legitimises as minimally reasonable and ii) recognises the credibility or expertise of those it hires or promotes. This is not to say that universities have the moral right to hire only those who agree with their tenets – to support this would be to endorse intellectual orthodoxy and unimaginative, dogma adherence. Yet what this does suggest is that the ‘freedom of speech’ argument applies less to universities than to public spaces – to speak at, to derive benefits such as fame or income from, to control the discourse and set the agenda in academic spaces is an earned privilege, not a given right. When Nichols speaks of the “freedom of speech” of academics, he may wish to consider the voices of the many untenured, junior, adjunct, or temporary academics, or the voices of those who have something to say but no one to listen, or the voices of the frustrated subaltern perpetually shut out by academic power structures steeped in privilege – which ones amongst them get to speak; which ones of them get hired; when does the subaltern actually speak?
Claim #3: This is all postmodern nonsense – academia must return to what it is about: “working with [students] to acquire the skills and values that not only imbue tolerance.”
The standard rejoinder to the above would be to dismiss the above as postmodern nonsense – after all, terms such as the “subaltern” or “privilege” seem to belong more to the “Maoist” frenzy Nichols disparages, as opposed to “sensible dialogue”.
It’s funny to think that this rejoinder has much traction, to be entirely honest. The name-calling, derision, and disparaging of calls that universities should acknowledge the socio-historical fact that wealthier and more socially privileged individuals tend to more easily be admitted into universities perhaps are, ironically, the most “Maoist” of all of the backlash towards student activists.
Nichols is absolutely right that there is need for rational discussion of opposing views – yet he conveniently moves from “opposing” to “hateful” with a tactful comma. It is a shame that progressives’ exposure to conservatives’ arguments is often through ‘popularised conservative academics’ that produce subpar or unconvincing, denatured versions of reasonable conservative positions; it’s equally a shame that conservatives’ impressions of progressives are the product of the esoteric tendencies of a few, select radical activists. A non-hateful, less antagonistic academic discourse is indubitably conducive towards better engagement of alternative viewpoints, because it allows for students to see the arguments in their best light. Conservatism exists beyond Ben Shapiro or Jordan Peterson; progressivism is more than mere occupation and obstruction of campuses. We can have serious debates about academic feminist philosophy without denigrating the right to existence of trans individuals.
Claim #4: “To some extent, unbridled and performative student activism is a disease of affluence. Young people who are working their way through school or who are immersed in difficult subjects have less time, and often less economic flexibility, to engage in protest.”
Yet if we are to take the critique of progressive movements’ alleged fixation with demographics seriously, we should not be perturbed by the fact (even if granted as true) that some activists tend to be affluent students. Perhaps the real case here is that social justice movements are privileged and exclude members of the working class: this is precisely why many are calling for greater emancipation and diversification of the demographics fielding and leading minority rights movements. More importantly, the students at Brown University Nichols chastises may – surprisingly – not be entirely misguided; university education affords individuals unique platforms, networks, and an intellectual climate that could facilitate significant social progress. Why should the only forms of learning take place within the classroom? Why is protesting the decimation of our planet under the scientifically established, politically controversial processes of climate change not a part of learning? Why should we conflate individual, failing students’ personal decisions with the value of all students as a political collective?
Claim #5: “Therapeutic model of education prioritises feelings and happiness over learning.”
I haven’t read Nichols’ book, and would love to do so one day. Yet it seems that as it currently stands in the article, the reason why the therapeutic model is troubling is that, “Colleges take the temperature of their students constantly, asking if they feel fulfilled, if they like their courses, and if they have any complaints. Little wonder that the students have made the short and obvious jump to the conclusion that they should be in charge.”
I’m not sure what is wrong about this. If the argument is that colleges tend to molly-cuddle students, this seems to ignore the strenuous academic, social, and economic demands college imposes upon their students – and that students often lack the legal resources or social standing to take on academic establishments in full. If the claim is that curriculum design has become less rigorous – perhaps the real problem to fix is the question of why no university faculty in the world (allegedly) can come up with a curriculum that is both rigorous and interesting, stimulating whilst accommodating. If the response is that such a curriculum is a fantasy, I’d think this is a denigration of the excellent work by many liberal arts colleges in the US, or Oxbridge in the UK, in promoting accessible whilst transformative learning.
Claim #6: Students have obligations to teachers.
Absolutely, but these obligations are founded upon norms of mutual respect and reciprocity. Your obligation to help a friend is suspended or dissolved when your friend becomes abusive towards you. You have no obligation to please or flatter a superior who denigrates you on the basis of your race, gender, sex, or other identity characteristics (you may find that to be in your interest, but you are not acting morally wrongly to not comply). Those who seek respect must earn respect, for respect is given, not granted.
The Speech Wars are less an actual phenomenon than a term concocted to inspired moral panic and outrage. Yes, some students have clearly crossed the line. Yet if we are indeed to take individualism and separateness of persons seriously, perhaps we’d like to think twice before lumping them together with all students around universities in the West (or the world).
Don’t want students running the universities? Sure, then let’s make sure universities aren’t running their students either.