Letter of protest was an accurate portrayal of the Scalia lecture
By Brian Stout
The debate surrounding Justice Antonin Scalia's visit and the professors' protest thereof continues to revolve around a fundamental misunderstanding of exactly why the professors chose not to attend Scalia's lecture. The debate, unfortunately, has degenerated into precisely the "vitriolic name-calling" the professors feared. At first blush, it seemed hypocritical to boycott a lecture by professing adherence to a democratic ideal of liberal discourse. However, because I feel enormous respect for the letter's signatories, I gave it a close reading. Even a cursory examination of the professors' protest letter reveals that the objection is not to the content of Justice Scalia's opinions, but rather to the manner in which he expresses them. Despite substantial exposure to Justice Scalia's opinions in four years with the LJST department, I nonetheless decided to attend the lecture, to determine for myself if the professors' argument contained merit. 

No one proved the professors' point more emphatically than Justice Scalia himself. To anyone who attended his lecture, his categorical refusal to engage in critical dialogue about issues striking at the heart of his method of "constitutional interpretation" underscored what the abstaining professors already realized. 

Recent letters from Douglas Weber '74 and Roman Lifson '89 failed to grasp the fundamental importance of the distinction the professors sought to make. It is understandable that alumni who did not attend the lecture may find the protest unreasonable; they did not witness its truth borne out in harsh reality. Reading Theodore Hertzberg '04's column, I would have reached the same conclusion-only I knew Hertzberg attended the lecture. What Hertzberg failed to point out in his article was the fate that befell professor Lawrence Douglas, the only member of the LJST department not joining the silent protest. When Douglas asked a pointed and incisive question, instead of responding, Justice Scalia dodged, eluded and finally declared, "I don't insist that you agree with me." Does that sound like discourse? 

When a student, understandably nervous in questioning a member of the Supreme Court, sought to articulate a differing method of interpretation, Scalia was downright rude, saying, "I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about, and I can assure you that neither does Judge Joe Six-Pack," before turning to the next question. For anyone who witnessed a Supreme Court Justice with a microphone bullying an underclassman, the experience was positively sickening. Is this civil discourse, I ask?  

When I asked Mr. Scalia about the inconsistency between his belief in maintaining the Court's integrity and his questionable decision to vacation with Mr. Cheney, he first responded, "No, absolutely not. I will not answer that question here." He then did answer, but instead of resolving the question of judicial ethics, he hid behind a smokescreen of rhetoric, suggesting, "There is no law against socializing with members of the executive branch when there are no personal claims against them." The familiar evasive tactic, however, was not enough. Scalia could not resist adding a belittling "quack, quack," further diminishing the seriousness of the question. Can we accurately call it reasoned dialogue when one of the speakers both consistently evades critical questions and ridicules those who dare to criticize? 

While I will agree with several writers that the realm of civil discourse is not served by comparing Justice Scalia to Adolf Hitler as Russell Kornblith '06 has done, I do think it is important to make distinctions between Justice Scalia's mode of speech and that embraced by the protesting professors. The professors' decision not to engage in debate stems not from an unwillingness to discuss differing ideas, but rather from a pragmatic acknowledgment of Scalia's consistent refusal to respect the "liberal ideals of constructive disagreement and debate."

Professor of Political Science Hadley Arkes also falls victim to this basic misunderstanding. Arkes would have us believe that the protest letter "shows a lack of tolerance for other viewpoints." Far from it: The protest letter shows a quite reasonable lack of tolerance for the disrespect displayed in the one-sided expression of those viewpoints. Arkes fears that the protest letter sends a message to Amherst that we will not hire a man like Scalia to teach here. I should hope that message was clear! 

If one of our professors treated his students with the kind of flagrant disrespect Justice Scalia exhibited, I for one would immediately demand his resignation. The principles of higher education and liberal discourse depend on respect for the expression of ideas, and that respect cannot exist in an environment littered with ad hominem attacks and "vitriolic name calling." Justice Scalia's belittling responses discourage the expression of ideas contrary to his own, and further exacerbate the already significant disparity of power. I ask Professor Arkes: Would you like a colleague whose conception of a debate consists of "I don't insist that you agree with me"?

Finally, Professor Arkes, I am insulted by the rhetoric you employ in your letter. Instead of respecting the independent opinions of your colleagues, you have the audacity to suggest that they "took leave of their better judgment" in signing the letter. Moreover, even as you decry the "name-calling that has become the mode of discourse on this campus," you maliciously insinuate that your colleagues were manipulated by Professor of Jurisprudence and Political Science Austin Sarat-"a hand other than their own"-in deciding not to attend Justice Scalia's lecture. Do you really have that little respect for the intelligence and autonomy of your colleagues?

By caricaturing the professors' reasoned protest as an ideological attack, Arkes failed to address the argument on its own terms, instead preferring to believe that his colleagues were so ignorant as to be unaware of "the deeper implications of what they were signing." I, unlike Professor Arkes, respect professors on this campus, particularly those within my department. Unlike Arkes, I believe they are not only autonomous but fully rational and intelligent individuals. And unlike him, when disagreeing with my peers or professors, I do not impute the insidious influence of "some little engine of malice that knows no rest." Professor Arkes, could you please be more specific? Instead of hiding behind obscure rhetoric, could you tell the Amherst community what you mean by a "little engine"? And in the future, could you please do the student body and your colleagues the courtesy of limiting your vicious attacks to the ideas expressed without impugning the motives of those expressing them? 

Issue 19, Submitted 2004-03-03 10:20:52