LETTER 23
Rester in Peace
Zach,
My seventh-great-grandfather was a man named Frederick Rester. I learned about him through my mother’s tireless efforts to trace our family history as far back as possible. She managed to trace those roots back to the 1500s. She even traveled to a small Lutheran church our ancestors attended in Germany in the wake of the Protestant Reformation.
In the nearly forty years during which my mother researched our family, there was nothing that interested me more than Frederick Rester’s story. The reason for that was simple: he was a veteran of the American Revolution fighting under the leadership of General George Washington.
Frederick Rester went to battle for this young nation at the age of thirteen. He was shot and received an honorable discharge from the military at the age of fifteen. I have a copy of his official discharge. It is among my most cherished possessions.
But until a couple of years ago, when I began to read biographies of all our American presidents, I did not gain a full appreciation for the sacrifice of our revolutionary soldiers. I started with George Washington, of course, and was shocked to learn of the conditions our troops faced during the American Revolution.
Reading about soldiers who crossed the Delaware River mid-winter without any shoes made me wonder whether Frederick Rester was among those barefooted soldiers. It also made me think about the pathetic condition of today’s men—a generation so indifferent to principle and so intolerant of discomfort. I began to notice the contrast when I left school and became a college professor.
When I accepted a job as a university professor back in 1993, I was so excited because I have always considered the American university to be the quintessential marketplace of ideas. I looked forward to contributing to that robust marketplace by addressing many of the great controversies and issues of the day. You can probably imagine my disappointment when I first discovered that our university employed a patently unconstitutional speech code.
It was just my first semester, the fall of 1993, when I sat down and read our university speech code, which was embedded within our university’s faculty handbook. The code said there was a ban on the use of offensive speech—anything which might make someone feel uncomfortable along the lines of race, gender, and a whole laundry list of other demographic variables.
As I sat in the department’s main office and read our speech code, I was so taken aback that I had to read it again out loud. After I read it out loud, I looked up and said, “Every idea is potentially offensive to someone. Every idea has the potential to make someone feel uncomfortable. This speech code is clearly unconstitutional.”
A colleague who happened to be present responded, “But the speech code doesn’t apply to all kinds of speech. It only applies to certain types of speech.” No truer words were ever spoken.
After I heard my colleague’s frank admission, I knew that some day I was going to have to go to war against that speech code and against university speech codes in general. I was a liberal and an atheist at the time, but I knew I had a legacy to defend. I could not simply hand over the rights Frederick Rester fought so hard to defend. Apathy did not seem rational at the time. And I’m still surprised that this idea of a ban on offensive speech has been adopted by so many otherwise rational people.
From our discussions of abortion and criminology, you’ve already seen that leftists have trouble with arguments, research, and facts that don’t conform to their view of the world. Speech codes are one way for them to force people with dissenting views to shut up. Personal attacks are another. If you’re going to be challenging the progressives’ assumptions in public, you’re going to have to be ready to deal with those attacks.
I will write more on that in my next letter to you, which will also take up some of the differences between liberals and conservatives on economic issues. Meanwhile, study hard and enjoy this beautiful spring weather.
LETTER 24
The F-Bomb
Zach,
There is a growing divide in America between two groups—those who believe the government can solve all of their problems and those who desperately want to see the government get out of their way so they may live freely and solve their own problems through their own abilities. Unfortunately, those in the former group have a tendency to attack their political opponents with words they do not even understand. America’s continuing financial problems have really brought this tendency to the forefront of American political discourse.
Last summer, Standard & Poor’s decided to downgrade America’s credit rating from AAA to AA, marking the first time America had lost its AAA rating since the Great Depression. Within days, liberal advocates of deficit spending began to refer to this downgrade as the “Tea Party downgrade.” In other words, progressives began to say that the downgrade that resulted from deficit spending was actually the fault of a political movement that opposes deficit spending. This is a lot like saying that feminists can be blamed for the problem of rape or that the NAACP is responsible for the problem of lynching.
To make matters worse, Congresswoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz, a Democrat from Florida, had already referred to the Tea Party as a bunch of “tyrants.” That is certainly odd because the Tea Party is comprised of individuals who would like to end government tyranny by drastically reducing the size of government. The illogic of her remarks reminds me of a comment characterizing me as a “fascist” for supporting Tea Party favorite Michele Bachmann in the race for the Republican Presidential nomination.
That was the third time I had been called a fascist by someone characterizing himself or herself as a progressive. See if you can identify the common thread among the three accusations:1. In 2000, a colleague hurled the accusation against me after he saw an NRA sticker on my office door.
2. In 2004, another professor hurled the accusation against me—she actually used the term “fascist pig”—because I missed a party at her house in order to attend a “Friends of the NRA” dinner. In fact, she was so angry that she said we were all “fascist pigs.”
3. Finally, in 2011 I was dubbed a fascist by someone who thought I was a part of the Tea Party movement. Actually, I am not—although I do respect what they are trying to do.
The common thread here is pretty obvious. The accusation of fascism is a response to my support of limited government and increased private ownership—most notably, my support of the private ownership of firearms. This would seem to be at odds with the true definition of “fascism,” which follows (from the Merriam-Webster Dictionary):A political philosophy, movement, or regime (as that of the Fascisti) that exalts nation and often race above the individual and that stands for a centralized autocratic government headed by a dictatorial leader, severe economic and social regimentation, and forcible suppression of opposition.
That’s odd, isn’t it? Those who favor collectivism above individualism and who approve of centralized government— characterized by increased economic regimentation—are using the term “fascist” to describe the opponents of their positions—which progressives, in fact, share with actual fascists. This is not to suggest that all progressives are just modern-day fascists. But it does suggest two other things that are worth noting in bold letters. (Sorry, Zach, I don’t like to use ALL CAPS in emails but I do occasionally use bold letters.) 1. Many members of the progressive movement do not seem to understand the meaning of the word “fascist:”
2. Fascists probably have much more in common with progressives than they do with members of the NRA or the Tea Party.
But, of course, progressives have trouble understanding the truth of the second bolded statement because of the undeniable truth of the first statement. That is why I wish some of these progressives had met my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Barbara O’Gara.
When I was just eleven years old, I got into an argument with a classmate. For the life of me, I cannot remember what we were arguing about at the time. But I do know that I was losing the argument because
I also lost my temper. And then I blurted out the accusation that my classmate was a “fascist.” Mrs. O’Gara stopped what she was doing and immediately focused the attention of the class on yours truly. The first question she asked was simply devastating: “Mike, what exactly is fascism—in other words, what does one have to believe to be a fascist?”
I was utterly terrified. Because I did not know the meaning of the word “fascism” or the word “fascist,” I simply sat there and shook my head. I was then given a homework assignment: go home and look up the meaning of the word “fascism” and return with a brief one-paragraph, typewritten explanation of the word—followed by a brief one-paragraph explanation of why it is generally a bad idea to use words you don’t understand.
There is a lesson to be learned from this. When we are involved in heated arguments we do not usually have the authority to assign homework to our opponents. But we do have the opportunity to ask them these two questions, loosely based on Mrs. O’Gara’s strategy for dealing with me:1. What exactly does “fascist” (or any other derogatory term) mean?
2. What does “fascism” (or any other derogatory term) have to do with the situation at hand?
When we ask these questions, it is very unlikely that we will get a response to the first question. In other words, we will usually end up supplying the definition of the derogatory term to the person who interjected it into the conversation in the first place. Whenever we ask the second question, we have an opportunity to completely turn the tables on our opponents.
LETTER 25
Of Mice and Mensa
Dear Zach,
Before we go any further, I want to remind you of the reason why I began writing you this series of letters. When I first taught you as a freshman at UNC-Wilmington, I had very high hopes for you and for your future intellectual development. But the second time I taught you—in the spring of your sophomore year—I noticed that you had embraced some of the ideological assumptions and beliefs of some of your progressive professors. Because I think that their ideology is both wrong and dangerous, I wanted to continue the conversation. You’ve shown yourself to be remarkably willing to consider another point of view, to face facts and logical arguments that didn’t mesh with the beliefs you had adopted, and to rethink some of the positions that you had taken. Now I want you to think about why you adopted those progressive positions in the first place.
It is beyond dispute that many students like yourself move to the left during their college years. What is disputed is the reason why they do so. Generally speaking, there are two competing common explanations for this phenomenon:1. The Discrimination Thesis. This view says that students are liberalized in college because they are exposed disproportionately to liberal and progressive ideas. In other words, they are brainwashed.
2. The Enlightenment Thesis. This view says that students are liberalized in college because they are simply becoming more informed, educated, and enlightened. In other words, they are simply converging on the truth, which is the progressive point of view.
The Seahawk, our student newspaper, once did a story about liberalism on campus, specifically probing the question of whether there was a “liberal bias” in higher education. The story quoted a UNC-Wilmington professor who took the position that there was no such bias. He argued that 1) better educated people tend to be more liberal (because they are more educated) and that 2) people who are more educated get hired to teach (because they are more educated, not because they are more liberal).
This argument suffers from the following fatal flaws:1. The observation that he pointed to in support of the enlightenment thesis is equally consistent with the discrimination thesis. Both sides in the argument acknowledge that people tend to become more liberal as they become more educated. The question is why. The discrimination thesis, no less than the enlightenment thesis, accepts the correlation between years of education and acceptance of liberalism. But it ascribes that correlation to a lack of exposure to conservative ideas, and a lack of criticism of liberal ones.
2. The enlightenment thesis is at odds with current educational philosophy. To believe that people are simply enlightened by further education is to assume that there is some sort of objective truth upon which people can converge. This is totally at odds with the educational philosophy of the postmodern liberal university. The postmodernists who hold sway in university education would ordinarily bristle at the notion that there exists some sort of truth that is not either a) culturally determined or b) determined by some sort of power elite defending its own interests.
3. Aside from these logical flaws, the enlightenment thesis is countered by objective data suggesting that anti-conservative discrimination is widespread. For example, several years ago a sociology professor in my department constructed a survey designed to determine whether there is, in fact, widespread political discrimination at UNCW. The sociologist was, of course, a liberal, and the survey was seriously flawed. One of the questions on the survey, which was given to UNC-Wilmington employees, asked whether the respondent had ever been denied a job at UNC-Wilmington. Of course, it does not take a membership in Mensa International to figure out that it’s especially unlikely you’ll find people denied a job at UNCW among a population that is employed by UNCW. But the survey was only given to people who worked at—read: were, in fact, hired by—UNCW. (There goes the argument that liberals have a monopoly on the world’s intellectual firepower.)
But, despite the severe flaws in the survey instrument, this study nevertheless discovered systematic evidence of discrimination against conservatives. I know this because the evidence was referenced in a UNCW press statement. Shortly after I filed suit against UNCW for denying me promotion to a full professorship, a reporter wanted to interview someone from the university in order to get their reaction to the suit. University officials declined the interview. Instead they issued a statement rejecting my contention that the denial of promotion was due to political reasons.
In that press statement, the university claimed to be “surprised” by survey results showing that people had experienced political discrimination at UNCW. The survey they were referring to was, of course, the one conducted by the liberal sociologist in my department.
When the study was later published, in 2010, its own liberal author reported finding that all groups surveyed were more likely to report “a bias against conservatives than against Liberal and Moderates.” Notice that she displayed her own bias by capitalizing “Liberals and Moderates” and putting “conservatives” in lower-case letters. She also reported that “Conservatives were more likely to report a need to conceal their beliefs.” (That time, she capitalized “Conservatives,” but only because it was at the beginning of the sentence.)
Zach, does “liberal bias” seem like a fair way to describe the situation in higher education today?
LETTER 26
Profiles in Anonymity
Dear Zach,
It was great to get a chance to talk to you again during my office hours on Friday. It’s good to know that your junior year is ending on a high note. I really enjoyed our discussion about personal courage, and the willingness to stand up for the things you believe in, in a hostile environment. That’s the topic I’ll be writing on today. Even if all you’re fighting for is widespread acceptance of ending sentences with prepositions, I want you to advance it with unapologetic courage. That’s what many of our brave soldiers died for. I mean the freedom to advocate your cause, not the sentence-ending prepositions.
As you can imagine, it makes me wince every time I see a college professor—especially one with the full protection of tenure—shirking his responsibility to speak the truth and to do so with conviction. Unfortunately, most professors only have convictions before they enter the teaching profession—and most of those convictions are drug-related. I’m only kidding, but sometimes I have to make jokes like that just to keep myself from crying.
Recently I was reminded of the appalling state of spinelessness among c
ontemporary college professors. It happened when I found a series of three anonymous notes posted above my mailbox in the Department of Sociology and Criminology. Each one of them was in response to a column I had written publicly and to which I had attached my name. Each note is worth describing, along with the circumstances that provoked it.
The first note simply asserted that the Tea Party was not a legitimate grassroots movement because it was propped up by Rupert Murdoch. The note was left above my box shortly after I defended the Tea Party publicly. My defense of the Tea Party also questioned those who classify the movement as “extreme” and “racist.” The note did not really offend me because I’m not actually a member of the Tea Party. So I just ignored it.
The second note specifically said, “God is a theory and evolution is a fact.” It was pinned above my mailbox shortly after I wrote a column criticizing the theory of evolution. Charles Darwin actually referred to evolution as “my [Darwin’s, not Adams’s] theory.” So, I printed off a quote from Darwin, highlighted the phrase “my theory,” and pinned it next to the note above my mailbox. But I added my name to my note because I am generally opposed to leaving anonymous notes. It is only acceptable to leave anonymous notes in grammar school. By middle school, the practice should be avoided. I feel the same way about bedwetting and talking to imaginary friends. At some point, one has to evolve beyond these practices.
Letters to a Young Progressive: How to Avoid Wasting Your Life Protesting Things You Don't Understand Page 10
