I’m a College President and I Hope My Campus Is Even More Political This Year
By Michael S. Roth
Mr. Roth is the president of Wesleyan University.
"Last year was a tough one on college campuses, so over the summer a lot of people asked me if I was hoping things would be less political this fall. Actually, I’m hoping they will be more political.
That’s not to say that I yearn for entrenched conflict or to once again hear chants telling me that I “can’t hide from genocide,” much less anything that might devolve into antisemitic or Islamophobic harassment or violence. But since at least the 1800s, colleges and universities in the United States have sought to help students develop character traits that would make them better citizens. That civic mission is only more relevant today. The last thing any university president should want is an apolitical campus.
College students have long played an important, even heroic role in American politics. Having defended the voting franchise during the civil rights movement and helped to end the Vietnam War, they have continued to work for change across a range of social issues. If you went to college in the past 50 years, there’s a good chance the mission statement of your school included language that emphasized the institution’s contribution to society. Like many others, my university’s founding documents speak of contributing to the good of the individual and the good of the world. Higher-education institutions have never been neutral.
The issue that matters most to many activists right now is the war in Gaza, and protesters will undoubtedly continue to make their voices heard. Last spring at Wesleyan, students built an encampment of up to about 100 tents to protest the war and to call for the university to divest from companies thought to be supporting it. Since the protest was nonviolent and the students in the encampment were careful not to disrupt normal university operations, we allowed it to continue because their right to nonviolent protest was more important than their modest violations of the rules.
I walked through the protest area daily, as did many faculty members, students and staff members. I also met with pro-Israel students, mostly Jewish, some of whom felt beleaguered by what their classmates were saying. I made clear that if any of them felt harassed, I would intervene. I also said that I could ensure their ability to pursue their education, but that I could not protect them from being offended.
I disagreed with the protesters’ tactics and some of their aims — and I was often the target of their anger — but I respected their strong desire to bear witness to the tragedy unfolding in Gaza. Before commencement, we reached an agreement with the students that they would clear the encampment and in turn be able to make their case to the board of trustees. They will do so this fall, as will pro-Israel students. I trust the experience will be a valuable lesson in how to communicate with people who may not share your views.
These days many Americans seem to think that education should be focused entirely on work force development. They define the “good of the individual” as making a living, not working with others to figure out how to live a good life. It’s understandable. In these days of economic disparities, social polarization and hyper-partisanship, it is certainly challenging to talk with one’s neighbors about what we want from our lives in common. But that is the core of political discussion. From JD Vance’s call to support large families to Tim Walz’s “mind your own damned business,” there are many visions of how best to live in community. Protests are part of the competition, but only its glossy edge. Demonstrations shouldn’t just entice you to come up with rhyming chants; they should push you to inquire about how different groups of people think about complex issues. And protests should lead to more discussion, not shut it down in favor of ever louder chanting.
Education can prepare people for this kind of true political engagement, and true political engagement can prepare people for the highest goals of education. Across the political spectrum, people have noted that the liberal or neoliberal consensus is breaking down and that the appeal to free markets as a solution to all problems is less tenable than ever. What will emerge in its wake? Some see authoritarianism and nationalism as an answer to free trade and porous borders, while others see more democracy and cosmopolitanism as the antidote to inequality and despair. Faculties are in a crucial position to guide these discussions. Professors aren’t in classrooms to entice students to share their ideology; they are there to challenge students to grapple with how much more there is to learn about any issue that really matters.
These discussions, like all authentic learning, depend on freedom of inquiry and freedom of expression. They also involve deep listening — thinking for ourselves in the company of others. The classical liberal approach to freedom of expression underscores that discussions are valuable only when people are able to disagree, listen to opposing views, change their minds.
To strengthen our democracy and the educational institutions that depend on it, we must learn to practice freedom better. This fall we can all learn to be better students and better citizens, by collaborating with others, being open to experimentation, calling for inclusion rather than segregation — and participating in the electoral process. As for those loud voices in the political sphere who are afraid of these experiments, who want to retreat to silos of like-mindedness, we can set an example of how to learn from people whose views are unlike our own.
And that is my greatest hope for the fall: that we will cultivate our ability to pay attention, to talk to one another across our differences. And then we get to make choices on Election Day. I don’t expect agreement, but I do trust that our disagreements can lead to learning. It will be an exciting semester."
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