I teach at Clemson. It shouldn’t have fired faculty for Charlie Kirk comments | Opinion

Clemson University has just shown the country what happens when a university forgets what it is.

The firings of Clemson employees over social media posts concerning the assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk this past week did not appear to be the result of a careful internal process.

They were the product of panic, intimidation and political pressure exerted by state and federal officials and amplified by student political groups. And they were not a one-off.

They follow a larger pattern of capitulation — whether in scaling back diversity and equity programs under legislative pressure or now in punishing employees for speech that was constitutionally protected.

Clemson still answers in part to its faculty and students, yes. But the scales are tipped. Politicians looking for partisan wins now enjoy outsized authority, while those inside the university — the very people who make it a university — are sidelined.

The sequence tells the story. Within hours of the posts surfacing, Clemson College Republicans, a campus conservative club, demanded action. State legislators threatened to pull funding and leaned on trustees, who rolled over almost instantly. Attorney General Alan Wilson assured Clemson it could fire employees without legal consequence. U.S. Sen. Lindsey Graham piled on, and members of Congress threatened federal support.

In the face of this orchestrated outrage, the administration moved with startling speed — from suspension, to removing faculty from classrooms, to outright termination. It was as though the decisions were being written not in Clemson’s offices but in Columbia and Washington.

The crucial fact is this: The speech in question is protected by the First Amendment. That is not a matter of taste or politics; it is the law. The U.S. Supreme Court has drawn narrow lines around speech a public employer may punish. In the court’s 1987 Rankin v. McPherson ruling, even a government employee’s remark hoping for the death of a president was held protected, because it addressed a public matter and posed no actual threat.

If a comment about the president of the United States is shielded, then comments about a political activist should be, too.

Nor can Clemson stretch the doctrine of “true threats” the court developed for exceptions. That requires a serious intent to commit unlawful violence. These posts contained none. They were commentary on an event already past.

And general commentary about a public figure does not meet legal standards for harassment, which requires targeted, pervasive conduct that denies others access to education or employment.

This is why Clemson’s Board of Trustees adopted a Statement on Freedom of Speech in 2023, pledging that:

“The policies and procedures of the University shall be interpreted and implemented in a manner consistent with the First Amendment … and Clemson University adopts the core principles articulated in the ‘Report of the Committee on Freedom of Expression’ at the University of Chicago.”

That report is unequivocal:

“It is not the proper role of the University to attempt to shield individuals from ideas and opinions they find unwelcome, disagreeable, or even deeply offensive.”

By its own policy, Clemson is bound to protect such speech unless it falls into narrow exceptions. The speech at issue did not. To punish it is not only constitutionally dubious but a violation of Clemson’s commitments.

The danger now is permanent.

Faculty have learned that job security depends on avoiding the wrath of politicians. Students have learned that the boundaries of free inquiry are drawn not in classrooms but in legislative chambers. And the public has learned that Clemson is not in charge of Clemson.

The administration and the board of trustees will likely argue they acted to preserve the university’s reputation. In fact, they have destroyed it. Reputation is not preserved by caving to outrage. Reputation is preserved by standing on principle.

South Carolinians should be embarrassed. Clemson is one of the state’s flagship universities, and it has just demonstrated that it will function as a puppet of whichever political hand tugs the hardest. This is not courage, it is surrender. And once surrender becomes a habit, there is no turning back.

Who is in charge at Clemson? Not the president. Not the trustees. Not the faculty. Not the students. The answer is bleaker: it is the politicians, the partisans and the mobs who know that if they shout loudly enough, Clemson will jump.

That should chill everyone who believes a university exists for education, not as a political trophy.

Mike Gregory is an assistant professor of philosophy at Clemson University. This commentary represents his personal views and not those of the university. The university was invited to submit a commentary explaining its decision but did not reply.