Reflecting on October 7: University Presidential Gag Orders Revisited

One year ago today, the beginning of the Israel-Gaza War set the stage for a remarkable series of developments on U.S. college and university campuses, to eventually include widespread adoption of speech restrictions on their chief executives–presidents and chancellors–those typically relied upon as the primary spokesperson of their institutions. Frequently hearkening to the 1967 University of Chicago Kalven Report , these policies appear to inhibit presidents from suggesting either the Israeli or Gazan side is more just. At least, this was the primary intent. Why presidents might do this better with the presence of such a policy than without is not intuitive. Strikingly, many of these gag orders were developed in partnership with presidents themselves, if not conceived by them initially. These policies are an artifact of this historic moment and may not serve well in perpetuity. With luck, they will gather dust quickly.

On October 7, 2023, Hamas attacked Israel, killing over 1,000 (mostly civilians) and capturing approximately 250 people (64 of whom remain hostages believed to be alive–including four U.S. citizens). The brutal horror of that initial attack, by a group the U.S. has recognized as a terrorist organization for over 25 years, was captured in gory detail on the nightly news. One year later, amid a relentless onslaught by Israel, nearly 42,000 Gazan lives have now been lost, alongside about 1,200 total Israelis. The war has recently spread to Lebanon and Yemen, and Iran is now overtly involved.

The hearts of a diverse American populace have been stirred vigorously, to divergent effects. Presidents of many colleges and universities felt compelled to issue statements decrying all violence immediately following the attack, and those leading our nation’s most prestigious universities felt compelled to clarify, enunciate, and/or qualify their earlier statements in the ensuing weeks and months to satisfy stakeholders. President Claudine Gay, of Harvard and President Liz Magill, of Penn , lost their jobs only days after testifying in a hearing convened on the topic of antisemitism by the House Education and Workforce Committee. Each had been hired mere months before. By August, following an extraordinary spring semester on the Columbia University campus, President Minouche Shafik also departed her role, after 13 months . These Ivy League leaders' experiences proved--as they often do--crudely symbolic, or even indirectly precipitous, of the experiences of fellow presidents and chancellors across some 4,000 public and nonprofit institutions.

Throughout the spring of 2024, as disparate demands from students, faculty, alumni, donors, and politicians grew louder, presidents and boards sought policy solutions to stabilize the positions of chief executives. Many would adopt a formal stance of intentional reservedness–often referring to the 1967 University of Chicago Kalven Report (it’s short, do read it), and eventually revealing new policies ostensibly restricting presidential speech. Harvard, for example, has formally adopted principles developed by its Institutional Voice Working Group, including:

“The university’s leaders are hired for their skill in leading an institution of higher education, not their expertise in public affairs. When speaking in their official roles, therefore, they should restrict themselves to matters within their area of institutional expertise and responsibility: the running of a university.”

Yet others rely on institutional mission as the arbiter of whether the president should speak out on a subject (i.e., absent a direct, mission-based objective the president should remain silent).

Such policies are typically adopted in response to specific stimuli, as was the Kalven Report itself , and these instances are no different. These policies’ intent is pragmatic but time-bound. They have an awkward dual purpose of both function and symbol. What do they signal? For some, who had previously exercised the presidency’s bully pulpit to sympathize, console, and otherwise engage community members in unwinnable conversations (surely not all conversations can or should be won), these policies serve to chasten them, to be blunt. For others, who never sought to lead from the front on these issues, they serve to shield them and prevent them from being drawn in. In all cases, these policies indicate something of a consensus lack of trust in the chief executive to speak on their own recognizance, in exercise of their own best judgment.

Removing even a portion of jurisdiction held by chief executives demonstrates, if nothing else, that it can be removed. Stakeholders and community members may at some point wonder who, then, is above the president; and does actually speak for the institution. Governing boards, which are composed of leading citizens, not educational experts or experienced university leaders, are subject to growing public scrutiny and direct constituent demands. Most are not prepared to perform this role well in lieu of a strong president, nor should they try.

My advice to those boards and presidents who have not yet subjected their institutions to reactive presidential speech limitations is simple on its face: don’t do it. It jeopardizes the integrity and effectiveness of the office in the long term.

My advice to those who have already adopted such policies is more subtle. Boards need to remember they hired the president to exercise independent judgment in speaking for the institution. They also need to understand many presidents hold academic and civic commitments to produce and disseminate relevant knowledge, both as individuals and as custodians of institutional mission. After all, which of our colleges and universities does not pride itself on the production of lawmakers, diplomats, public health experts, emergency workers, medical personnel, NGO leaders, and more? Every president is imperfect; and every president deserves a board mindful of the need for space and grace–particularly when other stakeholders are not. What will your board do if they believe the president has overstepped inadvertently? What should it do if there is reason to believe the president has done so willfully? It pays to consider these questions before they manifest as actual concerns.

Finally, I encourage presidents–many of whom have written their own gag orders–to hold dear certain loopholes, such as the one pertaining to institutional mission. To suggest a diverse community of students and faculty can become stronger by an absence of president-level engagement amid a war fueled by ethnic division is folly–almost as much so as suggesting it is not a mission imperative to cultivate institutional community in the first place. And "loophole" does the subject an injustice: our universities are also employers, economic incubators, municipalities, hospitals and medical systems, international partners, and–indeed–marketplaces of ideas. Our mission and our business is broad. We exist to change lives, improve the human condition, and the produce able and informed leaders. Nothing less becomes us.

In short, tomorrow’s leaders are watching, and today’s college and university leaders must avoid setting an example of abiding inaction. Truly, our institutions are not marketplaces of values and must not be mistaken as such. However, as the Kalven Report itself says quite clearly, all institutions are borne of certain values. To lead well, and as an example to the next generation, many presidents need to be emboldened and charged to use every tool at their disposal to make a difference.