In 2017, when President Trump first banned people from several majority-Muslim countries from entering the United States, protests erupted around the country. As people of all races and religions flocked to airports to oppose the Muslim ban, universities including Stanford also voiced their opposition. Stanford leaders declared that “policies that restrict the broad flow of people and ideas across national borders, or that have the effect or appearance of excluding people based on religion or ethnicity, are deeply antithetical to both our mission and our values.” Stanford joined 16 other universities in submitting a legal brief challenging the discriminatory order in court. The Faculty Senate unanimously pledged to do “anything in its power” to protect vulnerable community members against the ban.
What a difference eight years makes. Last week, President Trump ordered agencies to start a 60-day process to reintroduce a ban on certain countries’ nationals, invoking the same power used to exclude people from Iran, Syria, Somalia and other countries the first time around. But so far, colleges and institutions have mostly stayed silent — not only about this order, but also about the blitzkrieg of other orders targeting immigrants as “invaders,” gutting diversity initiatives, pardoning insurrectionists and undermining accountability and dissent across the government.
Institutions opposing the president’s agenda, or his authoritarianism, now fear reprisals, whether they are universities, media outlets or political leaders. When the president swiftly pardons hundreds of people who assaulted the U.S. Capitol in an effort to overturn a democratic election — and simultaneously revokes security protection from former government officials whom far-right militants have threatened — it signals to society that there is, literally, open season on dissent.
And for colleges and universities, it is not just new threats of taxing endowments or withdrawing federal funding that account for the fear. A year of congressional investigations attacking student protestors and academic freedom have left many universities desperate to avoid the limelight. Many are choosing the course of least resistance, even when it compromises academic freedom or other core values: For instance, Harvard agreed last week to settle a lawsuit by adopting a broad antisemitism definition that could subject political speech critical of Israel to disciplinary investigations.
Colleges and universities, like other institutions, seem to be hoping that their muted responses — and affirmative acquiescence — will spare them. For example, many appear to be abandoning existing diversity programs or removing language from websites after Trump’s order directing agencies to identify wealthy private universities to target for their DEI programs. Stanford announced it would scrutinize its diversity initiatives and likely end or change some of them. This sort of acquiescence will not only fail to protect institutions, but will expose all of us to further repression.
The American Association of University Professors recently warned universities against succumbing to what historian Timothy Snyder calls “anticipatory obedience.” Snyder identifies 20 lessons from 20th century history to counter rising authoritarianism. The very first is, “Do not obey in advance.” Marshalling examples from Nazi and communist regimes, he observes: “Most of the power of authoritarianism is freely given. In times like these, individuals think ahead about what a more repressive government will want, and then offer themselves without being asked. A citizen who adapts in this way is teaching power what it can do.” Unfortunately, institutions including some in academia, the media and corporate sector are doing exactly that.
The Trump administration does not have the resources or the legal authority to enforce its will against all of society all at once, so it relies on threats, vigilantes and anticipatory obedience to exact compliance. Collective organizing and self-defense efforts could slow the repression by raising the costs of enforcement for the administration. But when institutions individually drop their resistance, hoping that the repression moves elsewhere, they not only implement the administration’s agenda but also convey to others that acceptance is normal. This shift in norms — when we shrug today at what was unthinkable yesterday — is ultimately the most pernicious consequence of obeying in advance.
Silence and the continuation of ordinary routines as if everything is normal also delivers a gut punch to those acutely suffering: to our community members who worry they may be deported because of their political activism or country of origin or whose identities as trans people are excised from the law.
Universities sometimes justify silence on the basis of neutrality policies adopted in recent years, including by institutions like Stanford. But these policies are rarely so absolute. For instance, Stanford’s policy discouraging expression on political controversies exempts matters that “directly affect the mission of the university or implicate its legal obligations.” And it only applies to higher-level leaders when they speak for the institution — not to most faculty or staff. Where national policies threaten the institution’s mission and vision, the university can and should take a stand — as Stanford leaders recognized in responding to the first Muslim ban years ago.
Taking a stand does not always mean issuing public statements. But higher education institutions can engage in many forms of individual and collective action to defend their institutions. Universities should protect vulnerable students through both symbolic and material forms of support. They should champion higher education’s core missions and values, whether through litigation, advocacy or other means. They should robustly defend the individual academic freedom and free speech rights of faculty, staff and students. Meanwhile, those of us within the university who enjoy relative power and privilege should speak out individually and organize collectively to fight for the values that make our institutions worth defending.
Shirin Sinnar is the William W. and Gertrude H. Saunders Professor of Law at the Stanford Law School.