This is hardly the worst thing about this statement, but I can't get over the fact that the president of Harvard sounds like a 6th grade teacher. To give a sense of the decline, here is a speech from a Harvard president in 1961 saying roughly the same thing about free speech:
Nathan Pusey, president of Harvard 1953–71, opens the speech with this letter from an alumnus worried about subversives on the faculty: “When a whole Harvard department is so strongly promoting measures leading to totalitarianism, it seems I would be weak-minded to support it.”
“Harvard is a complex, lively, and involved institution. Now as always she includes many kinds and conditions of people—people of different interests, views, and opinions; and this grows increasingly so, the more the University becomes a world institution. But this is good, for diversity of opinion makes one think. As much as anything, it may set one on the path toward truth.
But never has Harvard tried to teach a single narrow orthodoxy in any field, nor does she now. From the time our first president, Henry Dunster, was dismissed for unorthodoxy, it has been her chief purpose to call men to think for themselves. Again and again there has been difficulty about this. Henry Dunster did not meet the conditions of the Massachusetts theocracy, but Harvard respected him for his courage and conviction and in time named a House for him.
Harvard still honors courage, conviction, and independent thought in her main and central thrust. As William James said in his much quoted address at Commencement fifty-eight years ago this month, ‘The day when Harvard shall stamp a single fast an hard type of character upon her children will be that of her downfall.”
“Our world is full of divergencies of opinion and unlimited perils. Granted. And this has made us all abnormally apprehensive. But surely the way to cope with this situation is not to begin by saying there is some simple, easily recognizable right to which we must adhere, and that all other views are wrong. Nor, let me add in fairness to my critic, is there any need to assume that any single individual who talks most frequently, or most conspicuously, or most assertively, must necessarily therefore be right or even in any degree representative. We all learned in the first discussion class we ever attended that this is not so.
Our world is full of divergencies of opinion, and so is Harvard.”
“What is the sum of these few brief remarks? It is simply that in my judgment there is one thing Harvard men must be agreed about. This is the recognition that truth is not something easily identifiable or simply stated, and that, this being so, those other qualities for which we all care so much—integrity, concern, and courage—these qualities make serious demands for understanding upon us all.”
Ben Burns made his career in black journalism, usually as the only white editor in the newsroom. He single-handedly put together the first issue of Ebony in his living room. A thread from his memoir, “Nitty Gritty: A White Editor in Black Journalism”:
Bribery was common at the Chicago Defender—five dollars clipped to a news release, brand new cars for reporters. Burns thought it was dishonest, but no one else had a problem with it. “The practice became established and was accepted by most of the black community. I had no choice but to ignore and pretend I knew little about what I viewed as a kind of bribery.”
He had to write a lot of copy where he pretended to be black, obviously, such as the inaugural editorial for Ebony: “Ebony will try to mirror the happier side of Negro life… Sure you can get all hot and bothered about the race question (and don't think we don't) but not enough is said about all the swell things we Negroes do.”
A female scholar interviewed a bunch of senior citizens in Greensboro, NC, about their memories of integration and white flight. Their testimony is interesting, even if the author adds on a lot of nonsense about their “white privilege” and “victimhood narratives.”
Most interviewees had children in school when busing came in. “Our son quit takin’ his lunch because they would steal his lunch or his lunch money, so he just didn't eat.” “When my daughter went there . . . she was afraid to go to the bathroom, to the point that we had to take her to a urologist.” “He would have our son get down and lick his shoes and he would say, ‘Your people have slaved my people, now I'm gonna slave you.’”
A school administrator told one parent: “Mack, I think if you can afford it you would be smart to send [your daughter] to private school . . . because she has too much visibility,” i.e., she is blonde.
1. Lack of talent is definitely NOT the reason. I can think of a dozen writers on the right who are better than Gladwell. I can name them if people want, but just look through back issues of The Lamp, First Things, TAC, CRB, Compact—you’ll see their names.
2. One major problem is cancel culture. A lot of the young talent on the right is online and anonymous. The left wants to cancel the anons for being too spicy. Some of them really are too spicy. Personally I think Trump’s win in 2024 ushered in a new era and the window of acceptable opinion is wider now. But not all of your contributors will be on the same page about where the line is. Unless you’re very risk-averse about who you publish (which would ruin the whole enterprise), you’ll have to deal with writers publicly defecting during coordinated cancellation attempts and headaches like that.
I've thought a lot about this, how the right fumbles its intellectuals. Here are three observations.
1. The left has gotten bad at it, too. Have you read their flagship magazines lately? It's all Trump Derangement Syndrome, race/gender wokeness, and self-help for rich women (looking at you, Atlantic). Who is the most intellectually impressive writer at the New Yorker these days? Who do they have that you would call erudite? Whatever factors have caused the decline in intelligent writing, they've hit everybody, not just conservatives.
2. Too many editors, not enough writers. In conservative journalism, if you want a stable job, you gravitate to editing, which is weird, because editing is easy. Basically anyone can do it. Writing is hard, very few people can do it, and those who have the talent need to work at it full time in order to do it well.
The stupidity of this arrangement struck me often when I worked at TAC. Our purpose is to publish good writing, I would think. As an editor, I contribute maybe 15% of the effort to each piece that I work on, and the writer contributes 85%. So why am I the only person in this equation who gets health insurance?
To put it in concrete terms: If I were writing full time and had total freedom, I'd probably write 12 long pieces per year. Some of them would be duds, some would be just okay, and hopefully a couple would be real winners. But they would all be well-researched and have something original to say. Ten books is an average reading load per essay, when I have the time.
When I am working as an editor and writing on the side, I write maybe three long features per year, and the quality is simply not as high. I read one book for research, maybe two. Mostly I am working from the store of knowledge I already have. My ability to take on new and unfamiliar topics is basically nil.
Twelve good essays vs. three mediocre essays; originality & versatility vs. rehashing the same stuff I already know. Obviously scenario 1 is better for everyone than scenario 2, but only 2 has a regular paycheck attached.
I'm glad @edwest wrote about the Stephen Lawrence case, because it's baffling to me that Britain's most famous racist incident, which supposedly proved their police "institutionally racist," was probably not a hate crime and involved no police misconduct. edwest.co.uk/p/britain-is-i…
Stephen Lawrence, the son of Jamaican immigrants, was killed in an unprovoked stabbing in 1993 while walking home late at night with a friend. A gang of white suspects were accused but the courts failed to convict due to lack of evidence. Excerpts from this book follow:
The same gang had stabbed a white boy unprovoked just a few weeks earlier. “Neil said to Mattie something like ‘Did you call me a wanker?’ When Mattie said he hadn’t, Norris pulled out ‘what looked like a miniature sword with about a nine-inch blade’ … Stacey asked what was going on. Dave replied ‘Shut up you cunt,’ stabbed him and ran off.”
Amazing used bookstore find: an oral history of the U.S.S. Indianapolis disaster (made famous by the Jaws monologue) as told by survivors.
“On the fourth day, a boy from Oklahoma saw the sharks eat his best friend, and I suppose that was more than his brain could stand. He took his knife, which was about 12 inches long, placed it in his mouth (like Tarzan in the movies), and started chasing sharks. They would stay just far enough ahead of him that he couldn’t touch them. He would go under for long periods at a time, making us wonder whether he would come up. I don’t know how long this went on, but sooner or later, I noticed that he wasn’t around.” —Sherman C. Booth
“While we were in the raft, I looked at the sailor next to me. He was dark from all the black oil and we didn’t recognize each other. He turned out to be my best friend from Hurley High School, Charles Bruneau, gunners mate, third class, Fourth Division. We had joined the navy together. He was in bad shape and did not say a word. I put my arm around him to hold him up. He stopped moving. I called Dr. Haynes. He said, ‘Charles is dead.’ We had to put him overboard. I never had the heart to tell his parents he almost made it. I told them I did not see him.” —Lloyd Barto