I’m a liberal professor, and I’ve written dozens of opinion essays criticizing President Trump’s positions on economic policy, constitutional law and more.
I’m also the faculty adviser for Georgia College & State University’s chapter of Turning Point USA — Charlie Kirk’s organization. As far as I’m concerned, that’s not a contradiction.
This wasn’t something I expected to take on. However, my dedication to the principles of free speech put me in a position where I felt that I couldn’t refuse a student’s request to help. He said that other faculty members had already turned him down. My understanding is that one conservative faculty member declined because he was concerned that saying yes might rankle his liberal colleagues.
Being untenured at the time did lead me to consider the possibility that if I took on this role, I might have to worry about the disapproval of other faculty members. On the other hand, I knew that my well-documented liberal politics would probably shield me from any fallout. The irony was not lost on me that a conservative group needed a liberal professor to even exist on our campus. (At our school, all student groups are required to have a faculty adviser.) So, I said yes despite disagreeing with virtually every position the organization holds.
I made it clear to this hopeful student that I wasn’t signing on as an ideological ally — that I would simply be there to ensure that his new T.P.U.S.A. chapter had access to the same resources as any other student group, and to serve as an advocate if the group’s members ever felt singled out for their beliefs. He agreed, remarking that he’d have been happy to have me sign off even if I was a card-carrying Communist. That made me laugh.
He became the chapter’s founding president, and we ended up meeting regularly as he worked to sort through the administrative issues involved in starting a new group. After it was up and running, he wound up taking one of my courses, on business ethics, and proved to be a strong contributor to the class.
With a subject that is inherently political in nature, such as business ethics, I got as good a look as one could at his outlook and approach, and saw nothing less than a politically engaged young man who was sincerely interested in constructive dialogue. To a degree, he reminded me of myself, given how, back when I was in college, I was an avowed libertarian. My leftward drift didn’t come until later in life, after Mr. Trump entered the political scene.
That student remained the chapter’s president until new leadership took over last year. With the organization now thriving on our campus — and my no longer having the same personal connection to its president — I anticipated that my role as faculty adviser would become more perfunctory.
But when Mr. Kirk was killed, I knew the students in our T.P.U.S.A. chapter would be devastated. I reached out to one of the current presidents — whom I’d never met before — to offer support in whatever way I could. After learning that the organization’s members had planned a candlelight vigil in Mr. Kirk’s honor, I worked with our dean of students to arrange for security to be present. I didn’t expect any trouble, but I wanted these grieving students to feel as safe as possible as they mourned.
After the vigil, I called one of the current chapter presidents to see how it went. It was the first time we had spoken, having only exchanged emails and texts up to that point. At the end of our conversation, she made a casual comment that stopped me in my tracks: She said she always enjoyed reading my opinion articles. Here was a conservative student leader telling a liberal professor that she not only sought out his opposing viewpoints, she also took something from them.
In that moment, I saw what’s possible when we choose genuine intellectual engagement. She wasn’t retreating into an echo chamber or dismissing liberal arguments out of hand — she was grappling with ideas that challenged her own, embodying the spirit of inquiry that universities like mine pride themselves on fostering.
The contrast with recent events couldn’t be starker. Educators across the nation have been abruptly dismissed as a result of pressure campaigns — which were egged on, in some cases, by conservative politicians — for making comments about Mr. Kirk’s killing that have been deemed insensitive or offensive. These terminations chill the very discourse that higher education should protect.
I don’t note this to minimize the pain Mr. Kirk’s death has caused or to defend the comments that led to those terminations, which were, in some cases, crude. But I don’t think the solution to our polarized moment is institutional punishment for unpopular speech. Rather, it’s more people — college professors in particular — who are willing to encourage principled engagement across ideological lines.
My T.P.U.S.A. students have shown that people can hold strong political convictions while still having respectful conversations with those who disagree.
They’re showing that the messy work of democracy can be practiced, not just preached.
If they can bridge these divides, the rest of us have no excuse for retreating into our respective corners. Being a liberal professor who advises a branch of Mr. Kirk’s organization isn’t a contradiction; it’s proof that exchanging ideas with both conviction and civility remains possible when we’re willing to model it.
Nicholas Creel is an associate professor of business law at Georgia College & State University and the director of the university’s Center for Innovation and Entrepreneurship.
Source photograph by Huizeng Hu/Getty Images.
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