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Annabel Green
Princetonians for Free Speech
F. Scott Fitzgerald’s debut 1920 novel, This Side of Paradise, follows protagonist Amory Blaine, who enjoys a particularly affluent life as an undergraduate at Princeton. Fitzgerald writes of Princeton:
Long after midnight the towers and spires of Princeton were visible, with here and there a late-burning light – and suddenly out of the clear darkness the sound of bells. As an endless dream it went on; the spirit of the past brooding over a new generation, the chosen youth from the muddled, unchastened world, still fed romantically on the mistakes and half-forgotten dreams of dead statesmen and poets. (p. 249)
Through Fitzgerald’s protagonist, Fitzgerald grapples with the tension between the reality and the ideal of paradise. What is paradise? What is the ideal? What is the source of beauty? What is heaven on Earth? The root of the word paradise is from the Old Iranian word pairi-daēza, meaning walled enclosure or enclosed garden.
The modern progressive pretext views freedom as the ideal and situates freedom as something akin to spontaneity of choice. This language is present in the political construction of values. Perhaps the most current and notable example of such a construction is the freedom of choice, which seems to have a progressive bent, although it is not an exclusively progressive phenomenon. The erosion of self-constraint as well as the duties which undergird the freedoms we enjoy, is disordered and chaotic. There is no freedom without constraint, and no paradise without enclosure.
Dr. Jordan Peterson interprets the walled garden as the paradisal Garden of Eden, wherein Adam and Eve, the archetypal man and woman, are presented with the tension between chaos and order. Paradise is ordered and cultivated by way of its confrontation with chaos. Idyllic freedom is not reveling in a lack of constraint but is, rather, established through order.
G.K. Chesterton wisely remarks on the importance of understanding boundaries. A principle, coined Chesterton’s fence, asserts one ought not to get rid of a fence (i.e., a preexisting law, custom, institution, etc.), unless the reasoning for its being there is known, or else one is acting as a reckless reformer.
Modern perception often sees fences as mere obstacles however, it is often those very fences which underpin freedom. When one goes beyond the fence, one is really trespassing against oneself.
Annabel Green '26, is a senior from Boulder, CO majoring in Public and International Affairs and minoring in Global Health & Health Policy. She is a PFS student writing fellow.
The National Endowment for the Humanities has announced more than $75 million in awards, including $10 million grants to two public universities with “civics” schools and to an education network headquartered at a conservative think tank.
The $10 million going to the Foundation for Excellence in Higher Education is for a project dubbed Recovering the Humanities in Service of the University. Kelly Hanlon, FEHE’s operations director, said the foundation “does not have any political, ideological or religious affiliation, nor does it fund policy work.” But FEHE is based at—and shares its president with—the Witherspoon Institute, a conservative think tank next to Princeton University’s campus.
In an age of social media, access to news and information can seem less like a privilege than a tidal wave. What we end up seeing isn’t fully objective: It’s composed, in large part, of opinions and biased perspectives that arise in the aftermath of striking or unsettling events. As long as you have a device and an internet connection, you can share and consume opinions on any given subject with minimal vetting.
There’s no shortage of editorialized content in the world today. So why would you specifically seek out the opinion page of a newspaper, and why ours in particular? What do we, as a student newspaper, have to offer you as a member of the Princeton community?
“When it comes to getting free speech right,” writes Princeton University President Christopher Eisgruber in the introduction to Terms of Respect, “America’s young people deserve higher marks than they get.” This is a central contention of Eisgruber’s new book, and it is, as those young people say, big – if true.
It also begs the question twice over, in the way that is all but inevitable when we talk about higher education and speech, two goods contemporarily treated as goods of themselves, if not the highest goods. Whether Eisgruber’s contention is correct depends on what is meant by free speech, then again on what is meant by getting it right.
