National Review Online
Tuesday, March 25, 2025
The Trump administration’s task force to combat
antisemitism pulled $400 million in federal grants and contracts from Columbia
University this month in response to the school’s appalling mismanagement of
the abuse of Jewish students by anti-Israel activists. Secretary of Education
Linda McMahon stated that Columbia abandoned its legal obligation to
protect Jewish students, who have faced “relentless violence, intimidation, and
anti-Semitic harassment” on campus. The administration presented a list of
demands for the university to follow as a condition for restored funding, and
the school has since agreed to them. Defenders of academic freedom — some of
them sincere — have howled that the university is bending the knee to Donald
Trump.
Columbia deserves every bit of what it is now facing at
Trump’s indelicate hands. While we enjoy witnessing the comeuppance of
institutions rotted by left-wing zealotry and hoisted on the petard of their
own intolerance as much as the next fellow, the administration needs to proceed
with more care in the future. Otherwise, it risks setting precedents that
conservatives will live to regret.
We do not wish to sound like a broken record on the
importance of rules, precedents, and a rigorous process in this area. But they
do matter, because free speech and the independence of institutions from
government dictates are crucially important. We can best fortify their
protection by drawing clear and principled distinctions not only when defending
political speech we find appalling but also when explaining what falls outside
of that line, and why.
We begin with two truths that our founder, William F.
Buckley Jr., long ago emphasized about academic freedom: It is ultimately
subordinate to the interests of students in pursuing truth, and its invocation
as a shibboleth to protect faculty and administrators should not obscure the
ends for which societies fund universities in the first place. Columbia failed
on both grounds. It allowed disruptive protesters (some of them not even its
students) to prevent Jewish students from fully participating in a Columbia
education. It vigorously policed speech that was unfashionable on the left, yet
applied a completely different standard to lawless acts that terrorized
students — punishing “microaggression” while tolerating actual aggression.
And it took billions of dollars in public money while acting as if it had no
responsibility to the public.
It is far too late in the day to pretend that Columbia is
disinterestedly allowing students to pursue truth without regard to politics.
The climate on campus has long been politically coercive and restrictive of
dissent, with faculty and the administration abusing their position of
authority over the students in order to indoctrinate them and limit their
access to the full spectrum of contending ideas. It is also too late to pretend
that this is purely private activity. Not only is Columbia a recipient of massive
federal largesse — the very threat to academic freedom that Buckley warned the
Ivy League about in 1951 — but its entire structure of admissions and campus
discipline has been shaped for decades by government regulation. In placing
countervailing government and political pressure on Columbia, Trump may be
playing with fire, but he is doing so inside a burning house.
The relentless anti-Israel mob at Columbia University
engaged in destructive conduct that fits no definition of free speech. The
campus grew so chaotic that even the university’s then-president, Minouche
Shafik, described it as a “crisis” and switched to remote classes. Elie Buechler, an Orthodox
rabbi at Columbia/Barnard and co-director of the school’s Jewish Leaning
Initiative on Campus, urged hundreds of Jewish students to go home and remain
there until “campus has dramatically improved.” The university had to summon
the New York Police Department to break up the “Gaza Solidarity Encampment,”
resulting in over 100 arrests. Unsurprisingly, the encampment simply respawned.
Later, hundreds of NYPD officers in riot gear intervened to remove over 100
people who illegally occupied a campus building; the activists were charged
with offenses including burglary, trespass, and criminal mischief. As an
academic environment, this resembled less the School of Athens than the
trial of Socrates.
Columbia now pledges to end lawless violence and
intimidation by banning masked protests and allowing campus law enforcement to
arrest menacing protesters. This is good, and it limits no freedom we would
call academic. It vows to “ensure unbiased admissions processes,” another area
in which law and government have long been engaged. While that may be hard to
enforce, the goal is salutary. The school will add a vice provost to oversee
its department of Middle East, South Asian, and African studies and Center for
Palestine Studies in order to “ensure the educational offerings are
comprehensive and balanced,” and will review its “hiring of non-tenured
faculty.” While it is unfortunate that such a thing should be demanded by the
government, the demand exists not only because the departments were so
politicized as to deny students the pursuit of truth but also because
Columbia’s faculty, hired with the aid of its lavish taxpayer funding, has been
actively engaged in inciting the antisocial protests. That
it now promises to pursue more “institutional neutrality” is progress in the
direction of more rather than less genuine free expression on campus. If
Columbia wished to run an activist organization instead, it should have chosen
to do so without half a billion dollars a year from the American taxpayer.
Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 provides a
process for cutting off taxpayer funds from a university that violates the
civil rights of its students. That process was not followed here. It is not necessarily the case that the
Title VI process is the exclusive avenue for the federal government to withhold
funds, or that the federal civil rights laws are the only violations that
should result in such a decision. But the entirely ad hoc process followed here
is one that can easily be abused to dictate terms to universities that have not
committed the sorts of pervasive wrongs against student education and physical
safety that occurred at Columbia. We would warn against adopting this process
as a precedent.
The outcome, in this case, is a good one. It was reached
for sound reasons that accord entirely with a properly understood First
Amendment as well as a properly understood climate of real academic freedom.
The next case, however, will demand a more rigorous process precisely because
easy cases make bad laws.
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