When Debate Dies, Who Loses?

As part of my inaugural activities at Philander Smith College, in 2005, I started a lecture series called “Bless the Mic.” In my remarks before introducing the first speaker, I said, “A lecture series is a staple in American higher education, but frankly, the average lecture series is boring, stuffy, dry, stale, and tired. I don’t want anyone to get me wrong. A fascinating conversation about ‘The Extravagant Universe: Exploding Stars, Dark Energy, and the Accelerating Cosmos’ is welcomed … but just not here.”

I argued that this generation requires timely topics and skilled presenters. And for this to be a legitimate lecture series, I had to be brave enough to explore the unthinkable. That meant I couldn’t simply invite speakers whom one would expect at a black college. I tested it early with Ann Coulter. Remember, I was in my second year as a 38-year-old president. I heard comments from lots of people who protested her appearance — some of it mean-spirited, but nothing threatening.

Ann spoke in January 2006 to more than 500 people, mostly her fans, and without incident. There were no protests, no outbursts. And yet she did get a few tough and pointed questions, which is what you should expect at a college lecture series. Furthermore, her appearance sparked more conversation on our campus after she left.

At least once a year, I sought to invite someone who might make our campus uneasy, to make me uneasy. I feel that for leaders to grow, they need to seek out opinions that they fundamentally disagree with. So we hosted the likes of Ward Connerly, Juan Williams, Leslie Sanchez, Mary Matalin, and, yes, Charles Murray.

In April 2009, Murray spoke at Philander about his newly released book, Real Education: Four Simple Truths for Bringing America’s Schools Back to Reality. I was familiar with his controversial Bell Curve, but Real Education was clearly worthy of discussion. As with Coulter, there were no incidents, no protests. I did hear from a few people questioning Murray’s being invited as a speaker, but again, those interactions were civil. The most vocal opponent was a young Philander alumnus, himself a college professor at another HBCU, who wrote an open letter to me (as he did when I invited Coulter) accusing me of betraying the HBCU ethos. More on him later.

It is now 2017. Charles Murray attempts to speak and is shouted down. A faculty member is assaulted. The Middlebury College event follows high-profile conflicts at Texas A&M University at College Station, at the University of Washington, where a protester was shot outside the event, and at the University of California at Berkeley, where violence caused more than $100,000 in damage.

While there have always been occasional protests on college campuses over speakers, there has clearly been a recent uptick in violence and aggression. Higher education missed the sign, and there was one. It happened on my current campus, Dillard University.

In late October we learned that, for a debate between candidates for a U.S. Senate seat booked weeks in advance, the polling used to determine participants qualified David Duke to participate. Although it was a media company’s event at space rented on our campus, the headlines were irresistible — former Klan leader to debate at HBCU!

We’ve had conservative or controversial speakers at Dillard as part of my new lecture series, “Brain Food,” including Jason Riley, Rich Lowry, and Karrine Steffans. I had faith that our community could handle Duke’s presence on the campus for about two hours in an empty auditorium for a televised event. Through several press releases, campuswide emails, and even a great blog post by Robert Collins, an urban-studies professor here who had personal experience with Duke, our message was: “Resist the spectacle.” But that evening, a peaceful protest became aggressive, with protesters attempting to force their way into the building to disrupt the event.

I was criticized for a number of reasons. Some thought I should have canceled the contract. Fundamentally, if we rent space, as long as the renter follows the guidelines, we should not begin to dictate the content. But philosophically, a university is a great, impartial space to have these kinds of conversations. These were six candidates vying to become the next U.S. senator from Louisiana. It was a debate, not a forum where Duke could spew his ideas unchecked. That’s the real tragedy — that people wouldn’t even allow unsavory views to be debated.

The criticisms continued. We should not have allowed campus and city police officers (who had no riot gear) to use minimal force, even though my chief was the only one injured that night. I should not have suggested that outsiders were involved, even though photographs from the event showed identifiable students from other institutions, including more white students than we enroll and a significant number of local citizens who were part of a group working to take down New Orleans’s Confederate monuments. That group had clashed with Duke months earlier, so this was Round 2. Of course, the vitriol was fast and furious on social media.

The anguish over Duke’s simply being present on the campus — not invited by the university, not speaking in front of an audience, only participating in a debate in which five others had chances to refute any idiotic notions he imparted — should have been a wake-up call. It signaled that we were in an era when rational dialogue and debate had been abandoned for the high of in-your-face confrontation, with social media as an accelerant.

How can we be true to the ideals of a liberal education when the climate in the country is simply to yell and scream at anyone we disagree with? How do we break the polarized nature of our politics if we can’t even listen to another’s point of view, if we can’t even stomach a debate where the purpose is to hear divergent views?

I’ll admit. I’m scared. The robust discussion I have always sought to expose my students to doesn’t seem to be worth it anymore. It feels as if the best thing to do is to play it safe and simply invite either entertainers and athletes to speak as feel-good events or hard-core academics whose presence will go unnoticed. It means going in the opposite direction of my “Bless the Mic” days and finding that boring lecture on dark matter.

And yet, I know there would be value in inviting Milwaukee County’s Sheriff David Clarke or Dinesh D’Souza, whose book Illiberal Education is extremely timely today. What if I could swing a visit by the “alt-right” architect Stephen K. Bannon? That would be something. But in this climate, inviting any of them would open us up to more bad press and heartache.

Remember that young Philander Smith College alum who twice called me out about my speaker choices? His name is Joseph L. Jones, and before I left I hired him as the inaugural director of our Social Justice Institute. His thoughtfulness in disagreement was the kind of talent I needed to launch this major program.

He is now president of Arkansas Baptist College.

That is the power of debate and dissent. And it is a reminder that when we shut down speech, there will be losers. Many of those losers will be the ones whose brilliance will go unnoticed without an opportunity to skillfully argue for what they believe.

Walter M. Kimbrough is president of Dillard University.