Thank you for this essay, David. I'm sorry for your ordeal. I'm a women's studies professor, and I'm here in the Persuasion community under a pseudonym. I understand the situation David Peterson outlines because I'm currently under investigation at my university for racism and transphobia, the combination of which constitutes the nuclear option of student disapproval. For years now, I've seen something like this coming as I've joked with my friends that at some point I would likely be invited to a star chamber. But the reality is certainly no joking matter. As David points out, such allegations and investigations have social, emotional, pedagogical, and financial implications. Over time, I've become more careful about what I say in class--like so many others, limiting the topics I'm willing to discuss, carefully parsing what I'm willing to discuss about the topics I do raise, and generally weighing the possibility that at any time students can become potential witnesses against me. What did I do to bring this consequence down on my head? I asked questions students didn't want to hear, and I challenged their positions and interpretations, in one case using data developed by the (nefarious, obviously right wing) Obama administration. That's it. I confess that I do have a propensity to ask students challenging questions and invoke data that contradicts the positions they've learned from many of my bravely radical colleagues. I make them read the work of white men not named Foucault, and I wax enthusiastic about what we can learn from some of that literature. I talk about what it might mean to live in a world where most people don't agree with you. I stress complexity and co-existence.
You may think: that's sounds self-serving; that can't really be what happened. Twenty years ago I might have thought that too, though in recent years I've known better. But when we talk about the fragility, rage, and punitiveness of university students, we have to talk about their professors. The students didn't come to their views by themselves any more than most Americans arrive at their political views after careful deliberation. University professors created this culture and egg it on from the sidelines at every turn. And for many reasons, the ideal objects of punishment aren't conservatives. Instead, they're people like me: putative members of the in-group who betray "us."
I am scared to write this for fear that it will be somehow attributed to me and lead to retribution. That's the world I am living in as a non-tenured faculty member at an elite college. Over the past few years I have watched fellow faculty members investigated for a slip of the tongue that offended a student. Instead of letting a faculty member know that they are offended and engaging in dialogue, students immediately reported them to Title IX for "unprofessional behavior," and the investigating officer left no stone unturned pursuing the case. I love teaching and advising undergraduates and believe that my work is a calling and, ironically, my politics are left of center. I live with the shame of not having spoken out publicly and with the constant worry that when they come for me, there will be no one left to speak up (Niemoller).
So very sad, what academic has become. I remember being a conservative graduate philosophy student at Hopkins in the 80s. I definitely was in the minority, but political leanings had absolutely no restrictive effect whatsoever on the quality of seminar discussion. One checked that stuff at the door, and everyone—faculty and students alike—focused myopically on attaining one thing: truth. I had no idea then that that phenomenon would disappear altogether. A very sad day indeed.
As a staff member at a private liberal arts college I really feel the danger that it out there. I'm terrified to ever mention the slightest thing out loud. Which is funny because there is actually a lot of opportunity for dialogue, but dialogue implies opinions other than what the mob hold.
research what happened to Andi McDaniel at WAMU/American University and then WGBH. Her career was destroyed over something she didn't even have control over.
Thank you for sharing this. Before the I left the academy five years ago, I read the fluorescent, blinking road signs warning of this. I very much agree it was not an abrupt shift, but rather supported by many academic administrations and faculty.
It's very sad and disturbing. I highly encourage alumni to stop giving money to universities and colleges. And more broadly, for folks to support more cost effective educational alternatives.
Mob rule on the left and the right. I always thought education was the answer, but it seems that even the well-educated simply want the power to judge -- to leap to conclusions -- without evidence.
Thank you for this essay, David. I'm sorry for your ordeal. I'm a women's studies professor, and I'm here in the Persuasion community under a pseudonym. I understand the situation David Peterson outlines because I'm currently under investigation at my university for racism and transphobia, the combination of which constitutes the nuclear option of student disapproval. For years now, I've seen something like this coming as I've joked with my friends that at some point I would likely be invited to a star chamber. But the reality is certainly no joking matter. As David points out, such allegations and investigations have social, emotional, pedagogical, and financial implications. Over time, I've become more careful about what I say in class--like so many others, limiting the topics I'm willing to discuss, carefully parsing what I'm willing to discuss about the topics I do raise, and generally weighing the possibility that at any time students can become potential witnesses against me. What did I do to bring this consequence down on my head? I asked questions students didn't want to hear, and I challenged their positions and interpretations, in one case using data developed by the (nefarious, obviously right wing) Obama administration. That's it. I confess that I do have a propensity to ask students challenging questions and invoke data that contradicts the positions they've learned from many of my bravely radical colleagues. I make them read the work of white men not named Foucault, and I wax enthusiastic about what we can learn from some of that literature. I talk about what it might mean to live in a world where most people don't agree with you. I stress complexity and co-existence.
You may think: that's sounds self-serving; that can't really be what happened. Twenty years ago I might have thought that too, though in recent years I've known better. But when we talk about the fragility, rage, and punitiveness of university students, we have to talk about their professors. The students didn't come to their views by themselves any more than most Americans arrive at their political views after careful deliberation. University professors created this culture and egg it on from the sidelines at every turn. And for many reasons, the ideal objects of punishment aren't conservatives. Instead, they're people like me: putative members of the in-group who betray "us."
I am scared to write this for fear that it will be somehow attributed to me and lead to retribution. That's the world I am living in as a non-tenured faculty member at an elite college. Over the past few years I have watched fellow faculty members investigated for a slip of the tongue that offended a student. Instead of letting a faculty member know that they are offended and engaging in dialogue, students immediately reported them to Title IX for "unprofessional behavior," and the investigating officer left no stone unturned pursuing the case. I love teaching and advising undergraduates and believe that my work is a calling and, ironically, my politics are left of center. I live with the shame of not having spoken out publicly and with the constant worry that when they come for me, there will be no one left to speak up (Niemoller).
You know something's going horribly wrong in the safety-ism culture when Breitbart emerges as one of the unlikely protagonists of the story.
Stay strong professor, there are many of us in strong support!
So very sad, what academic has become. I remember being a conservative graduate philosophy student at Hopkins in the 80s. I definitely was in the minority, but political leanings had absolutely no restrictive effect whatsoever on the quality of seminar discussion. One checked that stuff at the door, and everyone—faculty and students alike—focused myopically on attaining one thing: truth. I had no idea then that that phenomenon would disappear altogether. A very sad day indeed.
As a staff member at a private liberal arts college I really feel the danger that it out there. I'm terrified to ever mention the slightest thing out loud. Which is funny because there is actually a lot of opportunity for dialogue, but dialogue implies opinions other than what the mob hold.
research what happened to Andi McDaniel at WAMU/American University and then WGBH. Her career was destroyed over something she didn't even have control over.
Thank you for sharing this. Before the I left the academy five years ago, I read the fluorescent, blinking road signs warning of this. I very much agree it was not an abrupt shift, but rather supported by many academic administrations and faculty.
It's very sad and disturbing. I highly encourage alumni to stop giving money to universities and colleges. And more broadly, for folks to support more cost effective educational alternatives.
Sad story with a semi-happy ending. But of course the bigger picture is far less sanguine. Is there any reason to hope?
Mob rule on the left and the right. I always thought education was the answer, but it seems that even the well-educated simply want the power to judge -- to leap to conclusions -- without evidence.
An unwitting character in Lord of the Flies