Those of us who were even semi-awake last fall remember the last time Jim Gilchrist and the Minuteman Project came to campus. Promised the kind of provocative conservative voice that would enhance on-campus debate and intellectual inquiry about immigration, we got instead a brawl that pitted student activists against the Minutemen and stirred a media blitz that had every news outlet from Fox News to New York Times decrying Columbia University as intolerant and hostile to ideological diversity. No one talked about immigrant rights, amnesty, border control, or visa cards; on every tongue was "free speech" and on every mind was the battered right-wing voice.

With the possibility of Gilchrist's return, old wounds and anxieties have resurfaced, and we are obliged to tend to them if the Minutemen will be permitted to have their say.
Framing last year's debacle as an issue of free speech is a dishonest approach that misses the point—or at the least many other important points that spiral out of the Minuteman controversy. A university's free speech is not the same as a country's free speech, and failing to distinguish the two is hazardous to the intellectual and social climate we are all striving to maintain. After all, we are a special community with our own set of values and priorities and a unique obligation to our community members. One such value is scholarly exchange—but that must be preconditioned with the safety of our students. A well-funded organization that hires a celebrity lecturer with aims to demonize and target a less-powerful segment of the student body is not exercising its right to free speech or stimulating conversation; rather, it is flexing its muscles of privilege and silencing a community that already has less of a voice on campus. Free speech does not exist in a power vacuum, not even in our country, where the powers that be dictate what voices are heard and legitimized. A university, unlike a country, can be transparent about its choices to validate a voice, and whereas a country's free speech is invisibly mediated by powers that derive from racial, economic, and historical identities and privileges, a university can opt to openly maneuver free speech according to its own vision of a healthy and constructive intellectual space.

Immigrant communities—"legal" and "illegal"—have little to no voice in our country and on our campus. And the same goes for the kinds of ethnic populations targeted in and directly affected by a Minuteman debate, mostly Muslims and Latinos. The political climate heightened by recent terrorist and border-control fears, the imbalance of resources and the narrowed access to mainstream power, render any kind of even-leveled debate or conversation almost impossible in this country and only possible at this university if we make a concerted effort to create a place for it. The illusory intellectual free-for-all many insisted upon in the name of free speech after the Minutemen controversy does not translate into a measured, productive exchange or a steady flow of diverse voices. Power steps in. Organizations like the Columbia College Republicans and the groups they endorse like the Minutemen have an unchallenged say. The ways targeted groups fight back—protests, editorials, alternative media outlets—are powerful and inspiring as hell but not the same-planed equivalent as a high-priced speaker, empowered and sanctioned by a university. A message is sent that can sometimes silence and deaden intellectual inquiry: hand some groups a megaphone and others a children's drum set and call it a free-speech debate because noise comes from both sides.

Whatever lessons I could have learned the night the Minutemen came to speak would not have been worth the consequences: more lethal to intellectual freedom than preventing the group from speaking is further alienating and silencing fellow students. Rushing on stage is not my idea of a productive conversation. But it is also not the kind of option students resort to if they have access to other outlets. So, yes, maybe one part of our conversation needs to be about the implications of a university legitimizing a voice like the Minutemen's; but another is how we can empower and support marginalized groups in our community so that those like the Minutemen never have the final word.

Jim Gilchrist and the Minutemen are not interested in subtle argumentation or humanitarian concerns. On his Web site, Gilchrist stands cross-armed in front of a "Caution" sign emblazoned with a family ducking and fleeing towards the Southern border, and in the corner of his Web site is an insignia reminiscent of the American Revolution. Manipulating American nostalgia and patriotism and galvanizing anti-immigrant sentiment, Gilchrist promises to relieve the country of its immigrant burdens and crime using cowboy bravado.

Having conversations about immigration is crucial, as is hearing voices from all sides—and even outside—of the political spectrum. But the Minuteman Project is not a group our university should legitimize and endorse in those conversations. If the group does return to our campus for round two, we need to brainstorm ways to support targeted groups and ensure the moment is a learning one, not another kick to the skull that frazzles the head but ultimately leaves the mind unfazed.

Candace Mitchell is a Columbia College junior majoring in English.
Under the Radar runs alternate Thursdays.
Specopinion@columbia.edu