Cuffing Free Speech: Do We Care?

It was about twelve days ago that a young man handing out anti-Bush leaflets near Lerner was accosted by Columbia Security and then hauled away in handcuffs. Yet Columbians are apparently so accustomed to this degree of control over their lives that the only alarm raised, to my notice, was a brief article in Spectator on September 9th.

Until about 1990, Columbia's outdoor spaces were vibrant forums for the exercise of free speech. Any person could walk through our gates and set forth an opinion at will. Then one day, that glorious freedom was gone and a campus officer asked for your permit. Fifteen years later, a young man is cuffed for leafleting, and the campus is largely silent.

When the Stamp Act of 1765 was passed, American colonists went through the roof. Taxation without representation was tyranny, they raged. They convened a Congress, and sent protests to Parliament, while local mobs threatened to tar and feather officials who enforced the ruling. Within six months, the Act was repealed.

While tarring and feathering is thankfully out of fashion, one could wish that some measure of that earlier passion for local liberty remained. I was in Earl Hall on a recent evening. Amnesty International had packed the Dodge Room, while another group met under a sign reading "Global Justice." But while we scan the horizon for distant crimes against humanity, is anyone concerned about Columbia?

Administrators, who prize order and fear lawsuits more than they care about fundamental liberties, are regulating to death principles lying at the heart of what universities are about. Some will object that the young man in question was being rather aggressive in his distribution methods. I agree completely. But according to Spectator, security removed him, not for inappropriate behavior, but "because he did not have a permit for handing out flyers."

If free speech at Columbia doesn't include the right to hand out flyers, what good is it? And don't think that only "non-affiliates" are vulnerable. John Murolo, the Director of Public Safety, told me once that if a student spoke publicly on Low Plaza without a permit, and he received a complaint, she would be shut down.

But here's the rub-it is impossible for any individual, student or otherwise, to get such a permit. Only officially recognized student groups can even plead for permission to publicly air an opinion, and an advisor will carefully screen the content of their activity before it sees the light of day. That is the extent of your free speech rights on this campus.

Designed in the form of an ancient Greek amphitheatre, Low Plaza, the great public square in our city of books, ought to be filled daily during the warmer seasons with expression suitable to the vibrant intellectual community that Columbia is: spontaneous debates, impromptu a cappella, and political oratory.

Unless my eyes have deceived me, nothing of the sort has taken place during the first two weeks of school. Keep your eyes open in the remaining weeks of warmth. If the Plaza remains too often empty, you will know the reason why.

Fifteen years have already passed since these regulations went into place. A few more years and the freedoms of yesteryear will seem a distant, unreachable memory. But they can still be reclaimed if those who care make their opinions known to those with authority to act.

If you happen to see President Bollinger around campus, remind him of past policies, note his stature as a nationally renowned champion of free speech, and ask him (politely, of course) to roll back the red tape and set forth a standard of liberty fit for a great university like Columbia.