Free Speech at Stanford: A Frosh’s Reflections
“At its core, college is about asking questions. It is about learning to appreciate how much you don’t know–that there are always new ways to approach a topic, to reframe your thinking, or to explore more deeply.” As I watched Stanford President Jon Levin’s convocation remarks at the start of my freshman year, I was skeptical. His speech, while well-meaning, sounded strikingly similar to phrases like “intellectual vitality” and “fruitful dialogue” that I had been berated with throughout my high school career, and that almost always rung hollow.
Free speech and healthy disagreement were seldom prioritized at my small, elite private school. At weekly assemblies, my school repeatedly brought in speakers representing views from the political left, leaving out other perspectives. In my classes, my teachers openly let their viewpoints influence the classroom environment, with one even going so far as to lecture the class that Karl Marx was a “genius.” Fearing academic repercussions, many of my peers and I lied about our views and agreed with our teachers during political discussions. While this may have secured us better grades, it did little to help us develop intellectually by depriving us of truly thoughtful dialogue.
Sitting in Frost Amphitheater and listening to what I thought were false promises of free speech, I expected Stanford to be like my high school. After all, most elite colleges are known to have strong political biases–this has only been confirmed in the last year. While Stanford is no exception to this, the extent to which political diversity and free speech exist on campus shocked me. In my political science class, my peers and I debated whether economic equality is a prerequisite for justice by comparing traditionally right-leaning authors like Harry Frankfurt to those left of center like Elizabeth Anderson. In my College 101 discussions, we have debated the merits and flaws of Booker T. Washington’s argument for black advancement compared to the more progressive views of W.E.B. DuBois.
Two weeks later, at the club fair, I was overwhelmed by the amount of political extracurricular offerings at Stanford. Browsing through organizations that catered to viewpoints from across the political spectrum, the difference from high school was striking. After all, attending a university with 8,054 undergraduates meant there was bound to be a group for everyone.
While Stanford's classes, clubs, and publications were a big adjustment, I still noticed one similarity to high school: the social pressure to have the “right” views. The vast majority of students I’ve met hold very similar center-left views, and sharing anything outside of the mainstream is often seen as taboo. For example, a friend once nervously confided in me that he supported Israel but was anxious to keep this secret from his pro-Palestinian roommate. On several other occasions, I’ve met classmates who keep their views to themselves out of fear of the social repercussions.
In our extremely polarized political climate where friendships are defined by check marks on ballots, I fully understand the desire to keep one’s thoughts to oneself. Still, I’m willing to take the risk and share my opinions, and I hope others in the class of 2028 and beyond are willing to do the same. The friends I may lose from disagreements would not have been true friends anyway. But those willing to debate policies or bounce ideas off each other are certainly worth spending time with.
As I’ve learned over these past couple of weeks, I have nothing to lose by sharing what I truly believe in, a lesson I hope my peers of all beliefs come to realize. Instead of sitting in our echo chambers and complaining about censorship or “cancel culture,” the left or the right, we should make a conscious effort to seek disagreements to see if our ideas and assumptions hold up. As for me, I’m certain I’ll change my mind about many things during these next four years at Stanford.