Fifty years of campus expression: revisiting the role of university leaders

How do we promote free expression in an era that values social harmony? Can university presidents lead if “neutrality” is the institutional voice?

We have seen more than the usual number of events on campuses across this country in which the freedom to express ideas has been threatened. Invitations to provocative speakers have been withdrawn. Politicians, celebrities and even university presidents invited to deliver commencement addresses have — under pressure — declined to speak to graduates. Student protestors have had their signs and flags destroyed by other members of a campus community. Faculty members have been sanctioned for expressing personal opinions in op-eds or on social media. In the most troubling of these “free speech” incidents, speakers of various political persuasions have been shouted down and rendered unable to deliver remarks to campus groups who had invited them.

In May 1974, after a controversial speaker was prevented from lecturing at Yale — a speaker whose views many found deplorable (indeed, I would have found them deplorable too, but that is beside the point) — the Yale College Faculty asked then President Kingman Brewster to appoint a committee to look into free expression on the campus. President Brewster invited a group of faculty members, administrators, students and one alumnus — chaired by distinguished Professor of American History C Vann Woodward — to address how Yale should champion free expression. He explicitly charged the committee to consider how free expression relates to peaceful dissenting protest as well as to respect and tolerance within the campus community. The commission issued a report S’ouvre dans une nouvelle fenêtre — with one dissenting opinion — in December of that year, and we now celebrate its 50^th anniversary as campus policy.

The report begins with a preamble S’ouvre dans une nouvelle fenêtre that forcefully expresses the issue:

The primary function of a university is to discover and disseminate knowledge by means of research and teaching. To fulfill this function a free interchange of ideas is necessary not only within its walls but with the world beyond as well. It follows that the university must do everything possible to ensure within it the fullest degree of intellectual freedom.

Prof Woodward and his colleagues continue in a way that is often quoted:

The history of intellectual growth and discovery clearly demonstrates the need for unfettered freedom, the right to think the unthinkable, discuss the unmentionable, and challenge the unchallengeable. … whoever deprives another of the right to state unpopular views necessarily also deprives others of the right to listen to those views.

Putting these clear-headed and lofty goals into practice, however, is not always so straightforward (although Prof Woodward and his colleagues provided plenty of sensible guidance, if we are willing to follow it). What happens when someone’s ideas are an affront to others? What if someone’s classroom comments seem to be insensitive or even insulting to a group given special protections under the law? We value — indeed treasure — the closeness of our relationships with each other on our campuses. But Woodward argues that if we make “the fostering of friendship, solidarity, harmony, civility, or mutual respect” the “primary and dominant value” then we risk “sacrificing [the university’s] central purpose”: education and scholarship.

Prof Woodward recognized that placing unfettered academic inquiry above friendship, let alone mutual respect, might be tough advice for us to swallow. And he quickly points out, “To be sure, these are important values … and a good university will seek and may in some significant measure attain these ends. But it will never let these values, important as they are, override its central purpose. We value freedom of expression precisely because it provides a forum for the new, the provocative, the disturbing, and the unorthodox.”

Nonetheless, Prof Woodward had a strong sense of where to draw lines and where not to draw them: “If freedom of expression is to serve its purpose, and thus the purpose of the university, it should seek to enhance understanding,” he tells us. “Shock, hurt, and anger are not consequences to be weighed lightly [as some mind-numbing chants at recent campus protests seem to be]. No member of the community with a decent respect for others should use, or encourage others to use, slurs and epithets intended to discredit another’s race, ethnic group, religion, or sex. [We would now add national origin, shared ancestry, sexual orientation, and gender identity to this list.] It may sometimes be necessary in a university for civility and mutual respect to be superseded by the need to guarantee free expression. The values superseded are nevertheless important,” Woodward says, “and every member of the university community should consider them in exercising the fundamental right to free expression.”

What is Woodward telling us? A bedrock commitment to free expression does not give one the right to voice hatred and bigotry without considering whether that expression serves the highest purposes: advancing knowledge and promoting deeper understanding. I doubt that hateful speech will often pass this test. But sometimes it might, for example, when a deeply prejudiced character in a novel or play uses language that makes us shudder. This is why explicit speech codes do not work well on campuses; they can prohibit all offensive speech in nearly every circumstance — or even more problematic, speech that offends some individual at a particular point in time.

Of course, speech that is designed to harass, intimidate, coerce or instigate violent action is usually illegal, and institutions can articulate time, place and manner conditions on expression as well. For example, sexually harassing speech that is sufficiently severe and pervasive can create a hostile and discriminatory environment, and universities are bound by law S’ouvre dans une nouvelle fenêtre to offer its education equally to women and men. Private institutions can restrict speech further, although most choose to follow the constitutional mandates that apply to public institutions.

At the same time, a university is a village — an interdependent community built on respect for one another — and we should not decide to shock, hurt or anger others easily. However, Prof Woodward and his colleagues acknowledged that sometimes the need for greater insight could require us to do so. But we should not take this privilege lightly. We should not offend merely to offend. We should not provoke without careful forethought. Nonetheless, on occasion, these reactions can be the consequence of freely expressing well-considered ideas. Prof Woodward was quite clear about where the default lies in this equation: Free expression must be protected even when social norms are compromised by the speaker. The answer to speech that offends us is, most often, our own speech; the response to hateful speech is speech that effectively counters the words of hate.

How should this apply to university leaders?

My sense is that what I have articulated so far in this essay is not far off from the policies on your campuses. But an area of particular attention these days concerns the speech of university leaders, so-called institutional voice. Many presidents have grown accustomed to issuing public statements on issues attracting media attention. For instance, in recent years I spoke out — generally by offering written words — on the murder of George Floyd, federal policies concerning undocumented students, the invasion of Ukraine by Russia, and the killing of Israeli civilians by Hamas on October 7, 2023.

I felt it was important for the community to be reassured in times of crisis, to show empathy for the pain experienced by community members, and to be a thought leader for our country. I wanted the university community to know what its president believes. But this is increasingly becoming an unpopular view, superseded by the principle of institutional neutrality. This approach is perhaps best articulated by the University of Chicago’s Kalven Report S’ouvre dans une nouvelle fenêtre, written in 1967 amid widespread Vietnam War protests and frequently invoked today.

The Kalven Committee argued that the job of a university community is to debate, discuss and — indeed — argue about every issue of the day, and that these conversations are suppressed if the president (Kalven actually says “the institution,” though this is widely understood to mean the president as the leader of that institution) articulates his or her own position because others then might be disinclined to disagree. As Kalven states:

The instrument of dissent and criticism is the individual faculty member or the individual student. The university is the home and sponsor of critics; it is not itself the critic. … The neutrality of the university as an institution arises then not from a lack of courage nor out of indifference and insensitivity. It arises out of respect for free inquiry and the obligation to cherish a diversity of viewpoints. … there emerges, as we see it, a heavy presumption against the university taking collective action or expressing opinions on the political and social issues of the day …

I am not so sure. In fact, I am concerned that not speaking on contemporary world affairs is an abdication of leadership responsibilities. In my 11 years as President of Yale University, there was no shortage of faculty, staff, student and alumni disagreement with my point of view on various issues. And that’s a good thing. Quite frankly, I doubt I intimidated anyone into silence; it seemed to be just the opposite. I believe the philosophical case for institutional neutrality is overdone. Assuredly, the administrative websites of university departments, programs and laboratories are not the place for (often unsigned) political statements. Universities should provide other forums for that sort of expression (with attributed authorship). But I seem to be among the few university leaders and former leaders who still feel it is important to speak out on occasion. (President Michael Roth of Wesleyan is also a notable exception, and he does so quite frequently.)

No doubt, there are pragmatic considerations for adopting neutrality. My team and I worked long hours drafting, rewriting and editing statements only to have them parsed word-by-word by the campus community and the media, often leading to days of controversy and little clarity. One could decide, quite simply, that this represents a diversion of effort from the core mission of conducting research and educating students. But to throw in the towel in this way is to acknowledge — and be comfortable with the fact — that thought leadership on matters of local, national and international importance should be left to politicians, corporate CEOs, the clergy, media talking heads and others. That their voices should count more than those of the leaders of higher education. Will remaining silent truly restore the public’s trust in higher education or contribute to positive perceptions of our relevancy?

Kalven does offer a carve-out for issues directly affecting the campus community:

From time to time instances will arise in which the society, or segments of it, threaten the very mission of the university and its values of free inquiry. In such a crisis, it becomes the obligation of the university as an institution to oppose such measures and actively to defend its interests and its values.

But this is not so straightforward a judgment. As a university president, I would want to speak out if there was a book-burning on my town green, or if the nation’s president proposed to ban the ability of Muslims to come to this country to work or receive an education.

Current national hot-button issues such as the right to choose to abort a pregnancy or policies about immigration and immigrants affect members of the campus community every day, and yet these are just the kinds of issues that Kalven would allow faculty and students to debate but not the president or other university leaders.

And who are these other leaders on campus? Harvard’s new guidelines S’ouvre dans une nouvelle fenêtre, for instance, apply not just to the president:

The principles articulated and recommended here should apply to any person or body authorized or purporting to speak on behalf of the university or its component parts. That should include the president, provost, and all deans as well as heads of departments, centers, and programs; it should also in principle extend to university governing boards and faculty bodies (such as faculty councils and the faculties of schools and departments acting collectively).

Unfettered expression, assuming it is not the kind that clearly is illegal, and is offered within the time, place and manner regulations guiding it (to protect the scholarly and educational mission of the institution), is the hallmark of a campus environment and a catalyst for intellectual progress.

But shouldn’t these freedoms apply to everyone on campus? Does the president really need to take a pass?