Stephen Hayes

Since it effectively shut down a conservative conference last November, Columbia University has been working hard to repair its image—but not to mitigate its wrongdoing.

Columbia has told its alumni that it offered a refund to Accuracy in Academia (AIA), the conference sponsor. Yet the group has not received a cent—and its executive director, Dan Flynn, says he hasn’t even heard from Columbia since the incident.

Columbia Vice President of Public Affairs Alan Stone told me, "It was my understanding that the offer has been made—it’s a standing offer ... I was surprised to learn that we hadn’t paid them yet."

John Hogan, director of Columbia’s Faculty House, the building that hosted the conference, says the matter "was removed from my hands directly. I sent a full report to the General Counsel’s office a week after the incident and I assumed that office took care of it."

The controversy began mid-day on Nov. 13, when Columbia security demanded an additional $3,000 from AIA—just seven hours before the opening banquet. Flynn recalls that Columbia Security Director George Smartt threatened to cancel the conference unless AIA paid the money, which was not in the original contract signed by both parties on Aug. 14.

The university blamed the short notice on AIA not having disclosed the "controversial" nature of the speakers. AIA disputes the claim—and in an interview this week, Faculty House Director Hogan told me that he had been worried about potential problems for days before the event.

There wasn’t much basis for security fears on Nov. 13. Yes, some 150 students gathered outside the Faculty House that night to protest the opening speech of the conference delivered by Ward Connerly, a black California businessman who has led a nationwide effort to abolish race and gender preferences. Yet, though the crowd taunted and ridiculed Connerly, calling him a "race traitor" and "Uncle Tom," it was otherwise peaceful. Connerly, who has been heckled off the stage at other campuses, told me this experience seemed mild in comparison. Columbia security nonetheless denied entry to several conference participants, including this writer, a full-time Columbia student.

Late that night, security chief Smartt phoned AIA Chairman Reed Irvine to inform him that the university had decided to restrict the next day’s events to individuals with Columbia identification cards. Irvine objected: Supporters had paid registration fees of $49.95, and many students had traveled long distances to hear the speakers.

Conference organizers who tried to enter Faculty House on Saturday morning say that Smartt told them, "The contract that you have with Faculty House is being altered by me. I’m not here to tell you how I reached my decision, only to tell you what my decision is." (AIA decided to instead hold a symbolic protest meeting off campus.)

At first, Columbia claimed that President George Rupp had no part in the decision to ban the conference’s paid registrants. As late as the evening of Nov. 13, Rupp professed his ignorance, telling the campus newspaper, "I have not even heard what ideas are being discussed." But this line proved untenable, as several people, including reporters from the campus newspaper, saw Rupp talking to Smartt at Faculty House as the protest ended. Columbia spokesman Virgil Renzulli ultimately conceded that Rupp was in on the decision.

Why the denials? Columbia’s president has been an outspoken opponent of Connerly’s reform movement. Rupp chaired the Association of American Universities in April of 1997, when the group launched an unprecedented public campaign to preserve race and gender preferences, including a full-page ad in the New York Times. Rupp himself defended preferences on a televised debate with Clint Bolick of the Institute for Justice.

The obfuscation doesn’t end there. In a letter circulated to concerned alumni and other interested parties, Stone justified the decision to restrict admission to individuals with Columbia IDs as routine: "We have done this in the past, to groups of every persuasion, to no complaints."

Stone can’t back up that claim. Yes, Columbia has restricted some past events to its own students—but these were student-sponsored events, and the restrictions came after consultation with the students. In an interview yesterday, Stone admitted, "You are correct in saying that [this was different than others because] it was done in midstream. ... I might be able to find an analogous event, I might not. ... If you’re looking for an exactly analogous event, you’re setting a standard ... it’s different."

So why did Columbia act in such an unprecedented manner, in apparent defiance of the principles of free speech? Stone’s letter to critics of the university’s actions was revealing. "I understand your concern that unpopular views be heard at Columbia," he wrote. "I share your concern and assure you that Columbia consistently allows the expression of all points of view, including unpopular ones."

Which views does Stone consider unpopular? Connerly spoke in favor of abolishing racial preferences, something that large majorities in the states of California and Washington have voted into law, and that polls consistently show most Americans favor.

Perhaps it was the topic U.S. News and World Report columnist John Leo had chosen: censorship on campus.