As an old alumnus who climbed East Hill back in the 1960s, I am astounded and saddened by the changes that have occurred over the years. We had our own disruptions during the Vietnam War protests and the Willard Straight Hall takeover by the Afro-American Society, but there was very little intrusion by the University in our personal lives. And, at the time, we thought that the University Administration was reasonably honest and forthcoming. It is only with hindsight that we see otherwise.
For example, on 4 October 2019, the University dedicated a small garden beside Sage Chapel in memory of the eight students and one faculty member who died in the Cornell Heights Residential Club Fire of 5 April 1967. The names of the victims are listed on a bronze tablet, but a passerby will find no explanation of the following New York Times headlines that appeared consecutively on 1, 2 and 3 June 1967 after two more incendiary attacks against the same group
of students:
ARSON SUSPECTED IN CORNELL FIRES; Similarities Noted in Three, Including
Blaze Fatal to 9;
CORNELL PATROLS STUDENT HOUSES; Acts After 3 Fires Where Ph.D.
Candidates Lived; and
INQUIRY NARROWS IN 3 CORNELL FIRES; ‘2 or 3’ Under Investigation, Ithaca
Police Report.
Cornell University never told the families of victims that the deaths of their loved ones were homicides or that the suspected perpetrator was a student in the Six-year Ph.D. Program. In fact, there were no letters of condolence. “Official silence” was directed by the Cornell Board of Trustees and that policy continues to this day. The modest campus memorial, a few rocks and colorful plantings, is really just a continuation of that coverup. Two years later the Willard Straight Hall takeover led to complete capitulation of the University and an extortion payoff: $215,000 initially for an Africana Studies & Research Center that would be followed by millions more for an off-campus site and staffing. Looking back in 1987, former Cornell Associate Professor Allan Bloom (1930-1992) wrote:
When the black students at Cornell became aware that they could intimidate the
university and that they were not just students but negotiating partners in the process of determining what an education is, they demanded the dismissal of the tough-minded, old-style integrationist black woman who was assistant dean of students. In short order the administration complied with this demand. From that moment on, the various conciliatory arrangements with which we are now so familiar came into being. The black studies programs largely failed because what was serious in them did not interest the students, and the rest was unprofitable hokum. So, the university curriculum returned to a debilitated normalcy.
Fifty years later, this ugly piece of Cornell history was dropped into an Orwellian memory hole with the dedication of yet another timeless bronze tablet.
Willard Straight Hall Occupation
April 19, 1969
Cornell was one of the centers of student protest and activism in the 1960s against the Vietnam War and the denial of civil rights in the United States. In April 1969, over a hundred Black students occupied this building for thirty-three hours, bringing to Cornell the national Civil Rights Movement’s struggle for racial and social justice. After a peaceful, negotiated ending to the building occupation, Cornell set out to become a leader in its commitment to the ideals of a diverse and inclusive universe.
Golly, there’s nothing like a nifty bronze tablet to expunge criminal conduct from the historical record. Cornell University may be the Ivy League leader in this new performance genre. But that’s the past. What concerns me the most, and should concern you, is the University’s use of surveillance and informer networks to police student behavior and speech. We are now living
in the era predicted by George Orwell: thoughtcrime. At Cornell, there are distinct webpages and telephone hotlines for reporting (1) bias, harassment, and discrimination, (2) sexual misconduct, (3) hazing, and now (4) behaviors that do not promote a healthy and safe community during the pandemic caused by COVID-19. This is a far more comprehensive system of intelligence collection than East Germany’s Ministry for State Security (Ministerium für Staatssicherheit – the STASI) ever commanded.
In June, an informer alerted the University to an incoming freshman’s racial comment in a video posted, not by him, but by a friend on Twitter. The result: the Cornell football team drops him, a petition to rescind his admission draws more than 475 signatures and he is no longer on the Cornell books. Harsh and unjust, but a good example of the University embracing the new cancel culture.
Then there is this year’s Cornell Student Behavioral Compact – an entirely reasonable set of healthcare measures that I would encourage all to adhere to, but the undergraduates were given no choice; it was either sign the Compact or quit the University. Flash back to 1969 when University President James A. Perkins (1911-1998) signed off on a deal with the Black students who had seized Willard Straight Hall. A big chunk of academic freedom and University integrity went south that day. The Cornell Alumni News/Magazine twice published a photograph of ΔKE Brother Frank Boyle “Mike” Burnside, Jr. ’73 holding a placard reading, “Agreements made under duress are not binding.” The press immediately noted that the University had caved in – bad for the public image. So, Perkins’ next move was the pressure John Bertram Oakes (1913-2001), editorial page editor of the New York Times to pull Pulitzer Prize winning war correspondent Homer William Bigart (1907-1991) off the story. That flopped. Cornell made the front page of the New York Times on 2 September 2020 with a story about a freshman woman who published a captioned photograph of a party on Snapchat. Someone informed the University administration. Considerable grief followed. An online petition demanding that the student’s admission to Cornell be revoked collected more than 4,000 signatures. The Times observed, “As colleges reopen despite the pandemic, students must decide whether they are willing to blow the whistle on their classmates.” Informers, public shaming, ostracism… Where will this all end?
For a lengthy, yet incomplete, list of informer-inspired prosecutions by the University’s Judicial Administrator, consult the University Statements webpage where you will find the punishments and closures handed out to fraternities, the lacrosse team and one sorority. One has to make a little more effort to find out how informers and coerced testimony have humbled the Big Red Marching Band and abruptly terminated the Cayuga’s Waiters all-male a cappella vocal ensemble
(f. 1949). It’s all part of one big story – Cornell students ratting each other out and the University Administration pulling the strings in the land of endless disappointments, far above Cayuga’s waters.
Of course, the University has been in the snitch business forever. There’s that indelible, life-altering transcript of courses, grades and notes about disciplinary actions. And, for those undergraduates seeking a pass to the world beyond – a glowing recommendation for advanced study or a plum job, Big Brother Cornell (or your faculty advisor) will run his quill pen through it if there has been any ideological deviation from the dogma of diversity, inclusiveness, tolerance, anti-racism, etc. Mock any of this liberal rot, forget for a Twitter instant that you are in
a very deliberately thought-policed, speech-policed environment, and live to regret it.
Sincerely,
Bill / H. William Fogle, Jr., Cornell ’70 (Engineering)
