Your Cart is Empty
By Joseph Gonzalez ‘28
On Friday, September 5th, in McCosh 28 lecture hall on Princeton’s campus, Robert Corn-Revere presented “From Anthony Comstock to South Park: America and The Culture of Free Expression,” hosted by the Princeton Open Campus Coalition (POCC). Mr. Corn-Revere was affable when caught before or after the lecture, sharing stories about his friendship with comedian/magician Penn Jillette, or the behind-the-scenes stories of working on either side of the FCC’s crusade on obscenity. Mr. Corn-Revere, now chief counsel to the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE), has been on the frontlines of free speech battles for four decades as a First Amendment litigator. His good-natured laugh, warm smile, and light-hearted demeanor mask a firebrand when it comes to free expression advocacy, in the spirit of a quote often attributed to Voltaire: “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.”
His historical account of free speech and comedy began a little before the era of the Comstock Act of 1873, went through Thomas Nast’s illustrated criticisms of Tammany Hall, and ended with the recent South Park episode that takes aim at Donald Trump. The vaunted veteran First Amendment lawyer was not given an easy task -- to assure students that even though we are in the midst of a fight, this is nothing new. The forums where the battles take place shift and the targets for ire evolve and change, but history is clear: We have been here before.
He opened by saying. “I looked at the Instagram coming from this event and saw this text. ‘Come curious, become skeptical, come ready?’ And I don't know why it struck me as meaning ‘come armed’, so I figured I probably ought to give my standard children warning … you know, if harsh language offends you, now might be the perfect time to get the f*** out of here, because we are going to be talking about comedy and . . . some people are going to be offended by that.”
And with that, Corn-Revere’s seminar followed a simple premise: The First Amendment was built to protect speech, especially comedic artistic depictions that challenge the powerful. This was as true today as it was during the Gilded Age, when Thomas Nast, considered to be the father of the American cartoon, caricatured Boss Tweed with a series of illustrations, raised the civic consciousness of the New York electorate, and toppled Tammany Hall. Tweed himself railed about Nash’s artwork as an effective form of “punching up at those in power, He’s recorded as saying, “I don’t give a straw for your newspaper articles. Most of my voters can’t read. But they can’t help seeing them damned pictures.”
Effectiveness can be dangerous when it lies beyond the reach of those in power. Corn-Revere then switched over to talk about Anthony Comstock, founder of the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice. Mr. Corn-Revere stated that over the course of his 40-year career, “Comstock claimed to have convicted enough people to film a passenger train for 60 cars, with 60 people each in the cars and the 61st car half full. He also claimed that he had destroyed 160 tons of literature and 4 million pictures.” There was even a story about Princeton’s Gladiator statue– a gift of the class of 1880 and long since removed, clad for modesty when Mr. Comstock came to visit.
His lecture propelled us towards the modern day with the comedians from the 1970s to the present, recapping the prosecution in New York of stand-up comic Lenny Bruce, whom Corn-Revere states “was the last person in America, convicted for a word problem.” I should also mention that Robert Corn-Revere would successfully have Lenny Bruce’s conviction posthumously overturned by then-New York Governor George Pataki.
Another focal point was how the comedian and social critic George Carlin helped the FCC define obscenity. The FCC seized upon George Carlin’s “seven words you can never say on TV” as the standard for what is obscene. Corn-Revere discussed this standard, which the FCC won in court, pointing out the irony. “He's being charged by the FCC for a routine that he says these words that you can't say on the radio, and the FCC decides to prove him right and make that a standard.”
Robert Corn-Revere's lecture ended with South Park’s now notorious mocking of President Trump.
Corn-Revere wanted us to be optimistic. His mantra, that these times too shall pass, until, in about seven years, the culture wars will be fought again on some different battlefield. But I remain less sanguine, no matter how much power Tammany Hall had or how much fear Anthony Comstock instilled in people, or how much the FCC fines are, they were not equivalent to coercion by the executive branch during the imperial presidency period. Where is the protection for freedom of speech and expression when it is under assault from the highest levels of both recent administrations? It seems that protection is to be found in the courts and with judges -- the world in which Robert Corn-Revere operates. For the rest of us, non-lawyers, all we have is a Constitution to look to, whose protections we all still hopefully continue to agree upon.
Comments will be approved before showing up.
Since the start of President Donald Trump’s second term, top colleges and universities have faced an onslaught of federal attacks: slashing grant money for research, pressuring schools to end diversity, equity, and inclusion programs, cracking down on visas for international students, and ending graduate program sponsorship for active duty military at top schools. However, some Ivy League universities — the center of many of Trump’s ongoing attacks — have decreased messaging on the potential consequences of these federal directives.
“One thing that’s been clear is that a lot of universities have felt that publicity would bring no advantage or do them no good,” history professor David Bell GS ’91, who has been outspoken about federal actions against universities, said in an interview with The Daily Princetonian.
As a professor who is known to dissent from progressive ideologies that are dominant at universities such as Princeton, where I’ve taught for nearly 40 years, I’m frequently asked by students for advice about how to navigate a campus they worry will be hostile to them. Some are pro-Israel, or politically and socially conservative, or religiously observant.
They fear being treated unfairly by faculty members who are hostile to their beliefs. Many are afraid of being regarded as outcasts by their more liberal or progressive peers. They worry about being excluded from academic opportunities or not treated equitably in social or other extracurricular activities. To these students I say, with regret: You’re right to worry. I’ve seen these things happen.
Universities may be tempted to treat these capabilities as inevitable improvements in education. Students will be able to consume vast amounts of information, more than ever before. But like AI writing itself, such consumption would be vast but shallow. The more interesting possibility, then, is that AI will force universities to rediscover the value of intellectual work that cannot be outsourced.
