Freshmen: Beware the Activist Factor

By Matthew S. Schwartz

This is for the new students, the ones who have not yet experienced the wonderful world in which we live - whose eyes are bright with wonder and excitement, who blindly look upon great institutions with admiration and respect. You are about to hear a tale from the real world, a lesson filled with truth and candor. It may be disheartening, but it will benefit you to learn the truth now rather than painfully stumble into it later, unprepared.

Once upon a time, I held an innate respect for prestigious institutions such as the University of Michigan. There was no reason to disrespect a place of higher learning, where education takes place not only in the classroom, but in extracurricular activities and discussions as well.

When I was accepted to the University, I was ecstatic. I would be given the chance to receive a superior education; to explore unfamiliar ideas and subjects; to engage in countless informal debates with peers about such controversial issues as race-based discrimination, and affirmative action.

Perhaps most impressively, I would witness great speakers deliberating all sides of an issue in front of a crowd of hundreds, the audience rapt in attention, awaiting the conclusion so that they might civilly pose questions and counter-examples to either strengthen or undermine the orator's argument.

One day in late winter I heard that Ward Connerly was coming to campus. Connerly, the black man responsible for the demise of racial preference programs in California, was sure to have plenty to say about racial preferences and the constitutionality of affirmative action, subjects I had recently become interested in. I thought this would be an excellent lecture to attend, being that this was the man who had publicly implored the nation to realize that "you cannot define discrimination against a black American as discrimination and then define the same practice against a white person as diversity."

I called up a friend, and we decided to go to the speech together. On the way, I picked up the latest issue of the Michigan Review, and in the "Serpent's Tooth" section there was one remark that I kept going back to. It said, "We're definitely looking forward to the March 18th appearance of Ward Connerly, provided that socialist thugs armed with megaphones and clubs don't decide to ruin the whole thing first."

What are they talking about? I wondered. Why would anyone want to ruin it? This lecture will give us a great chance to explore controversial themes that have been dividing the campus! Perhaps by talking together and discovering what each side has to say, we can come to a conclusion that will be beneficial to all, and will allow us to more naturally attain a diverse student body.

And the funny thing was, I was serious.

Chalk it up to naivete, youth, inexperience, or maybe just an overly optimistic attitude. The point being, I had never actually experienced what I like to call the Activist Factor. You know, the students who take an active stance on lots of controversial issues, and then make their opinions known in the form of rallies, sit-ins, marches, and the like. Now don't get me wrong; there is nothing wrong with activism. I applaud people of our generation who take an interest in national affairs. I do have a problem, however, with activists who won't let anyone else express opposing viewpoints. Hence, the Activist Factor.

The sky was particularly gloomy that day. As my friend and I walked past the residence halls, a gust of wind rattled the bare branches overhead, a warning, possibly, of the troubles to come. Alas, I could not hear it. What the wind did carry to me, however, were the faint sounds of chanting. As we continued to the League, the ruckus grew louder. I soon saw it: a large crowd of angry people picketing the front door of the building, shouting and yelling... and I was scared. I was literally too afraid to walk in through the front door, for fear that the crowd might verbally abuse me in front of everyone. My friend and I walked around the building and entered through a side door.

When the doors to the ballroom were opened, there was a mad rush for seats. Within seconds, the room filled to capacity. The doors were closed, leaving at least a hundred people out in the hall. Someone came up to the stage microphone and introduced the guest speaker for the night, as Connerly approached the stage.

Immediately, there was a reaction from the crowd. I couldn't believe it - the people around me started booing. I was truly appalled at their behavior. My friend and I, and many others, stood up and gave Connerly a round of applause. After a few minutes the crowd settled down, and Connerly began to speak.

Connerly spoke for only about fifteen minutes, but what exciting fifteen minutes they were! At one particularly memorable point in his speech, Connerly explained to the crowd that he had asked himself three questions about the past racism he had experienced in his life. The first one: "How long should I be angry?" I could hardly even hear his next two questions over the laughter that ensued! The crowd was booing and laughing at Connerly. He continued: "At whom do I direct that anger? And, most importantly, what good does it do me?" More laughter! Angry shouts shot up from the audience, and I knew that it was going to be a long night.

After Connerly finished speaking, he invited students to step up to the audience microphone and ask him any questions they might have. The stampede that followed was quite surprising! It seemed like half the audience jumped up and ran to the microphone. The first student that spoke had a notepad in her hands. She was reading a prepared speech that seemed to continue indefinitely. She would ask Connerly question after question, never giving him the chance to respond to any of them in depth. He would try, but the crowd would always boo and shout him down! Instead of directly answering the students' questions, it was apparent that Connerly felt he could more deftly explain his position taking a roundabout route, telling stories and anecdotes, but the crowd would have none of this! If Connerly did not immediately and concisely answer the question in his first sentence - an impossible task, given the delicate nature of the subject - the crowd would immediately yell, "ANSWER THE QUESTION!" as if Connerly were on trial. He would respond in frustration, "I'm trying to! If you would just let me finish -" "No you're not!" the crowd would reply, and laugh at him, alone and uneasy on stage.

This disgraceful showing continued for over an hour. At times I felt so upset, I wanted to leave the ballroom immediately. But I couldn't, for I had no desire to pass through the unruly mob waiting just outside the door, the mob that repeatedly shouted, "Let us in! Let us in!" and banged on the doors. As speaker after speaker stepped up to the mike, each one reading their prepared speech and badgering and laughing at the man on stage, I silently took one of the flyers I had received beforehand out of my pocket, and began to write questions on the back. They were philosophical questions that I was able to derive every once in a while from the screaming students at the mike. Questions that necessitated deep thought and contemplation, important questions that would help to drown out the ranting and raving going on all around me.

I looked up at Connerly, and I felt quite sorrowful. This prominent businessman had traveled a long way to speak to us, to try to engage us in a dialogue, to try to teach us something - but would people listen? No. There would be no learning that night. And as the students yelled at Connerly, as he threatened to walk out, as the cameras rolled and the reporters scurried around and the crowd outside banged on the doors, I could not help but feel extreme sadness. Deep in despair, a tear rolled down my cheek. And in my life, to this very day, I have never felt more shame than I felt that night.

I tell you this not to upset you, but to teach you something. In my time here at this prestigious institution, where my education takes place not only in the classroom, but also during events such as this, I have learned that great institutions are not always so great. For there will always be members of these institutions who act like children, and there will always be people who don't let others speak, who are rude, and offensive, and a disgrace to the rest of us.

Even at the State Senate, some people can act like children. In March, as Connerly testified before the Senate Government Operations Committee, he was also booed and interrupted. This, at the Capital of the state of Michigan.

What we must realize is that these people are not the norm. They are not representative of the whole. Deep down, I am convinced that most people are logical, sensible, and respectful of others' opinions and beliefs. At times, it is easy to forget that simple fact, to perceive common decency as nothing more than a myth - but we mustn't forget. Because a lot of times, remembering that there are other sane people in the world is the only way to get through it. MR

Matthew S. Schwartz is the editor-in-chief of the Review. This essay was originally published in our 16 Sept. 1998 issue.

This article was published in the New Student Issue of The Michigan Review (Volume 18, Number 1).
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