The principle of free expression mandates that we permit protests on college grounds. But should we merely tolerate campus demonstrations, or do we have a more profound reason for allowing them to persist—even when they are noisy, spontaneous, and irksome to the wider community?
That inquiry is central to universities’ societal mission: We ought to want our institutions to educate citizens who are not only adept at critical thought, listening, and speaking, but also active proponents of this nation’s ideals. Young individuals cultivate civic skills by engaging in political action as well as by participating in respectful classroom dialogues. A significant portion of collegiate learning happens through extracurricular activities. Some of these activities—such as debate societies—are widely applauded, whereas others—like protests—cause discomfort in society.
All are crucial. We should remember that today’s activists might evolve into tomorrow’s leaders.
When I find myself exasperated by protesters on Princeton’s campus, I endeavor to recall that the university has had numerous outstanding board members who not only demonstrated but were also arrested or disciplined for civil disobedience during their student years. They grew to become distinguished professionals, exemplary citizens, and influential figures in their communities.
That is no mere chance. Even when their perspectives are unsophisticated or poorly considered, protesters are among the minority willing to take risks and dedicate effort to the pursuit of a better world. Certainly, protest is not the sole or necessarily the most effective method for achieving that. Students will discover diverse avenues to advance their beliefs and mature as citizens. I recollect participating in only one protest during my student days. I found it profoundly unfulfilling; marching behind placards with simplistic slogans was not for me.
I sometimes challenged instructors in the classroom, however, debating courteously yet assertively—a behavior that some valued or accommodated and others resented. I reflect on my youthful audacity with amusement and occasional embarrassment, but I am pleased that I voiced my opinions.
Students who audaciously challenge authority in their youth will need to moderate their defiance if they are to be accomplished adult leaders; students who always submit humbly to authority are improbable to ever assume leadership roles. Experiences with protest—whether as participants, observers, or opponents—are valuable educational components for students who will eventually leave their campuses for a contentious, boisterous political landscape.
Universities must meticulously uphold their quest for knowledge, and they must observe principles distinct from those guiding the political realm, yet it does not imply that they can or should remain detached from current affairs.
The extended view of higher education is significant for how student behavior is handled, just as it is for the nurturing of inquiry-based studies. Jim Reische, who served for many years as the chief communications officer at Williams College, demonstrates this with a personal anecdote: When he was a student at the University of Michigan, he spray-painted “Corporate Deathburgers” on a local McDonald’s. He was arrested but earned his degree; very few people ever knew about his imprudent act of vandalism.
Today, the “Deathburger” incident might become an online phenomenon and persist indefinitely in digital records. Reische deplores this evolution: Committing youthful blunders is a component of maturation, and we need to enable young people to derive lessons from their missteps.
Many students have behaved courageously, and sometimes made foolish errors, because they were incensed by past injustices, provocative orators, cultural biases, or other instigations. At their best, colleges require students to answer for rule infringements, but also demonstrate sufficient clemency so these young individuals can grow and evolve as human beings.
For that reason, university penalties for minor civil disobedience might occasionally be lenient—such as probation or a formal caution, for example, instead of suspension or expulsion. This aspect of campus life is often poorly received by those outside the institution. When protesters shout offensive slogans or break rules at Princeton, I consistently receive feedback from some former students who declare these students are “terrorists” or “criminals” and insist on their expulsion from the university.
Such a perspective is nearly always incorrect: Protesters are not terrorists, and the purpose of higher education is learning, not retribution.
To put it differently, students ready themselves for active participation in a contentious society by exercising civic skills—by stating and supporting their beliefs—not by passively internalizing instruction from their teachers. That is how one prepares for adult life in a country defined by public discourse.
Courteous restrictions on campus dialogue are impractical within a country marked by, in
Justice William Brennan’s words from the 1964 , “a profound national
dedication to the concept that discussion … must be unrestrained, vigorous, and fully
open.” Educating citizens for that boisterous political environment necessitates the embrace of not just academic resources like books,
labs, lectures, and seminars, but also expressive symbols such as banners and armbands within
the college gate.
The liberty to explore inquiry-based questions, aspire greatly, articulate assertively, and make intermittent errors are all fundamental to the societal role of American colleges and universities. These unique liberties render academic institutions distinct and, at times, unconventional. They operate, as former Princeton president William Bowen put it, “slightly askew from the conventional world.”
This positioning is an asset; it provides higher learning institutions with their discerning advantage. It is simultaneously a weakness. It means that there will always be an audience amenable to critiques that overstate the divergence between universities and the broader society.
This article is drawn from , published by Basic Books, a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.