New book offers view of 1969 conflict between academic freedom and racial justice
Takeover chronology The crisis at Cornell in 1968-69 included these pivotal events, as described by Donald Downs in his book “Cornell ’69”:
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Sunday, April 20, 1969, Cornell University: A tall, lanky sophomore stands in a crowd of about 2,000 onlookers gathered outside Willard Straight Hall on this sunny spring day. He and the others are about to witness history in American higher education, right there in the bucolic setting of Ithaca, N.Y., seemingly far from the fray of civil unrest engulfing the nation in the ’60s. The previous day, more than 80 members of the Afro-American Society had taken over Straight Hall, Cornell’s student union. The takeover had been prompted by a cross burning in front of the black women’s cooperative and other cases of alleged racism. A deal had been cut between protesters and Cornell administrators, and the students were set to leave the building.
Student takeovers were common on campuses in the ’60s, of course. But Straight Hall that day is terrifyingly distinctive: “Oh, my God, look at those goddamned guns!” shouts an AP photographer as the students walk out of the building. Several hold guns, and a leader wears bandoliers filled with ammunition. No shots are fired. But this is the first time guns have been introduced into a campus conflict, which shocks many Americans. And that defining day lodges itself deep in the memory of many Cornellians.
The tall, lanky man who saw it all as a Cornell sophomore went on to write a controversial book about April 20, 1969, what led up to it and what gut-wrenching events followed (see sidebar). The book, published this year, is titled “Cornell ’69: Liberalism and the Crisis of the American University.” The author is Donald Downs, professor of political science at UW–Madison.
His book chronicles the clash of two principles that many universities espouse: academic freedom and racial justice. That clash nearly ignited a conflagration at Cornell. And today it dogs the efforts of universities like UW–Madison to increase diversity and preserve minority rights.
“The confrontation at Cornell raised – and still raises – a fundamental question,” says Downs. “Can racial understanding and sensitivity exist without forsaking the intellectual freedom necessary to the pursuit of truth and constitutional citizenship?
“In the name of morality, Cornell forgot the subtle yet inescapable connection between morality and the commitment to the open-minded pursuit of truth that is the university’s distinctive obligation.”
Donald Downs |
Downs does believe that Cornell President James Perkins deserved credit for opening Cornell’s doors to more black students in the ’60s. But in the face of black student demands in 1969, Perkins “failed to uphold basic principles of the rule of law and of intellectual freedom,” says Downs.
The deal cut with the protesters, for instance, allowed students to walk out of Straight Hall holding guns. It also gave them amnesty for taking over a building that cost several thousand dollars to clean up and repair. And at a campus convocation the day after black students left Straight Hall, Perkins gave a speech that, by virtually all accounts, was a disaster. Speaking to 10,000 people, he evaded what was on everyone’s mind, instead extolling the virtues of “humane studies.”
Though sharply critical of Perkins, Downs admits “given the ineluctable mess of that spring, perhaps no one could have fared any better.” Perkins was reacting – or not reacting – to what AAS members were using to accomplish their goals: identity politics, or the politics of recognition. Identity politics can be useful, says Downs, “but when taken to an extreme, the solidarity and group pride that it exalts are inhospitable to the tolerance of pointed criticism that is the hallmark of liberal education.”
Downs says he tried to be even-handed in describing key events. That didn’t set well with a reviewer for the Wall Street Journal, who said that though Downs’ purpose was laudable, he “often exhibits aspects of the self-undermining liberalism that he decries…” The book has been a lightning rod at Cornell, sparking vehement reactions from both the left and right. It prompted President Hunter Rawlings to convene a public panel discussion at Cornell last spring to discuss the book and the issues it raises. The panel included Downs, and he says the passion of the people who spoke revealed that “1969 still casts its spell over Cornell.”
Downs has a passion of his own: The virtually unfettered protection of freedom of speech. That’s why he has taken Perkins to task for his role in the 1969 upheaval, and that’s why he has been active in UW–Madison’s struggle to deal with the expression of ideas in the classroom. Last spring he was instrumental in the Faculty Senate’s vote to effectively abolish the university’s speech code.
“Cornell ’69 was a watershed event that stood at the beginning of the intellectual and political conflicts that beset American universities today,” says Downs. “The skirmish over the speech code at UW–Madison was a direct descendent of that earlier battle. The success we had in abolishing the code is a sign of hope that liberal principles such as intellectual freedom and respect for the rights of everyone in the community are finally making a comeback. Sacrifice of liberal principles is always wrong, no matter how worthy the cause.”