Editorial: On the State of Speech

Not unlike a flame in the conditions of a harsh wind, the freedom of expression nears darkness in the halls of many of the once-great American universities. These institutions were developed to foster dialogue and the free exchange of ideas in an age where the colonies trod carefully under British rule, and open expression was a luxury afforded only to those meritorious enough to receive admission into what we now know as the Ivy League. 

Due to the work of those educated in these universities, free speech was granted to all Americans as an inalienable right. However, a sestercentennial from the establishment of these institutions, censorship once again rears its ugly head under the guise of “protection.” President Beilock has done well to make her stance on the issue known, and Dartmouth has been publicly lauded in direct proportion to her efforts towards open dialogue. 

Yet, ideological suppression abounds beneath the institutional facade, and the witch hunt of censorship silences legitimate opinion in fear of controversy and discomfort. There exists a false dichotomy between the protection of privacy and hate speech, and, what’s more, I very well might be deemed as controversial for stating as much. 

Hate speech, while indeed a harmful phenomenon, is a label quickly placed on that which is novel to the listener. Before its contents can be fully assessed, dismissed as foreign, and, therefore, incorrect and abhorrent. 

When the free expression of one group calls for a muzzle over the voice of another, action is not taken for true protection of anything other than their own ignorance. On all college campuses, and most certainly at Dartmouth, self-censorship takes place as a safeguard against the mounting threat of “cancellation,” the idea that a perceived misstep is grounds for mass ostracization. 

In order to avoid becoming the next target of cancel culture, many great minds find themselves muted. The loudest voices stifle insight, and a vernacular full of buzzwords signifies a greater understanding than that of the dissenter. 

More disturbing still are the soulless productions of artificial intelligence turned in by students in the classroom. Robbing themselves of the search for knowledge found in diligent research and writing, prompts and outlines are submitted to the latest AI tool. 

Their malleable minds, then, effectively hammered flat from their own obsolescence. Ernest Hemingway stated, “there is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” Though he puts it simply, and we are far from the age of typewriters, there is something to be said for the deep emotion only produced by a job well done. This success, I fear to report, has yet to be wholly replicated by AI. 

The remedy for these ills lies in nurturing and normalizing an ideological diversity. I don’t propose complete acceptance of those with different opinions, as the pursuit of this would be so unnatural as to obscure the entire effort. 

However, an open tolerance of those independent minds is essential to learn from each other, and, in this, better understand ourselves. Shying away from or ignoring the uncomfortable conversation places us at a stalemate no institutional initiative can ever overcome. It is up to us to edify ourselves in a world of misinformation. A strong opinion is nothing without a defense equaling its strength.  

Without the opportunity of unfettered debate, intellectual conformity will inevitably succeed over independence. A great mind, when left in an ideological vacuum and cut off from any opinions of intrigue, has no choice but to atrophy. 

Those who fear the illumination of uncomfortable truths don’t seek out protection, but the padded walls of an echo chamber insulating their fragile egos and ethos from challenge. Genuine growth requires venturing beyond the womb of institutional coddling into the harsh reality of genuine and reasoned dissent. For in darkness there is only stasis, but in the light, the celebration of boundless improvement.