Dear faculty: Let’s talk politics

It’s a dilemma as old as academia itself: When speaking out is risky but silence feels like complicity, what role do faculty play? Universities exist to challenge ideas and prepare the next generation, but in a polarized era, I ask myself: How can my professors not talk about politics when their voices have never mattered more? 

Photo by Haley Scull/The Barnard Bulletin

By Lillie Laing

April 22, 2025

For the past month, I’ve been trying (but failing) to write an article about how today’s political decisions will shape our futures as students — whether we pay attention or not. But my first challenge wasn’t finding the right angle or gathering research. It was that many of my peers were too afraid to talk about politics at all.

Hoping for more, I turned to faculty — only to be met with silence. I emailed over 15 professors across departments, received only a handful of responses, and was brushed off during office hours. Those who did reply insisted that they “couldn’t talk about politics.” Our university prides itself on challenging ideas, but how can we when our professors will not or can not engage? 

As students, we understand that for many professors, especially those who are not tenured, the risk of speaking out is real. Engaging in political dialogue can mean backlash, public targeting, and much more. That fear is valid, and the pressure to stay quiet is growing — not only from the field of academia itself, but also from an administration in Washington that is actively targeting higher education, making it anything but safe. Just last month, Columbia University agreed to policy changes, rather than risk losing $400 million in federal funding for failing to address antisemitism on campus, and allegedly creating an unsafe environment for all students, as the Trump administration has claimed. 

Still, fear does not make silence any less consequential. If anything, it underscores further what is at stake: when even our own educators feel they cannot speak, the space for learning (and truth!) starts to shrink. Acknowledging these pressures does not mean excusing the silence. It means recognizing that faculty are navigating impossible terrain — and asking what it would take to make speaking out not only braver, but better protected. In recent heated debates at Barnard over the limits of free speech, questions around academic freedom and the reach of the First Amendment have taken center stage. 

We need faculty — those who can — to engage and not retreat, because their silence does not just reflect the problem, it risks reinforcing it. 

I arrived at Barnard in the fall of 2021, drawn to politics but unsure of my major. Back then, my professors spoke more freely about elections and misinformation. Over time, however, many became more cautious, avoiding discussions on sensitive topics to prevent backlash. Now, studying politics, I wonder how much richer my education would be if professors engaged openly with today’s political reality? 

The reluctance of political science professors to engage in discourse speaks to a broader shift in academia — one where fear of controversy outweighs the responsibility to inform. Over the past decade, political discussion has become increasingly fraught, creating an atmosphere where even those who teach it hesitate to speak. This silence doesn’t just hinder learning; it reinforces the very disengagement it seeks to address.

The fear professors feel about engaging in political discourse reflects a broader problem: the loudest, most extreme voices dominate while the majority stays silent. As Simon Davidson wrote in The Hill, a small but vocal minority spreads polarization, distorting perceptions and turning disagreement into hostility. This climate doesn’t just stifle media and public debate — it seeps into classrooms, where even educators hesitate to participate out of fear of retribution.

Neutrality in the classroom often means avoiding certain political topics to prevent controversy. Alyssa Hadley Dunn, Assistant Professor of Teacher Education at Michigan State University, argues that “neutrality is itself a political choice” that upholds the status quo. Teachers who dodge important political conversations aren’t being unbiased, but are rather limiting important conversations. Whether we want it to be or not, education is shaped by political and social contexts, and pretending to be neutral only reinforces disengagement and misinformation.

Even further, avoiding political discussions leaves students unprepared for the complexities of the world. Dunn explains, “Both what is taught and how it is taught is shaped by the cultural, social, political, and historical contexts” of the classroom. By avoiding these conversations, students miss out on developing the critical thinking skills needed to navigate a polarized and unequal society. 

One teacher in Dunn’s study said, “My loyalty is to my students and their lives, not to administrator requests to avoid conversations that are uncomfortable.” By avoiding political topics, faculty deny their students the chance to engage with the world. Educators must empower students to understand and discuss complex issues, not avoid them.

Wesleyan University President Michael Roth isn’t exaggerating when he calls this “the greatest pressure put on intellectual life since the McCarthy era.” In an era of misinformation and disinformation, avoiding political discourse only deepens the divide, leaving students ill-prepared to critically engage with the world around them. 

The hesitancy to speak out reflects a broader issue of trust in academia. Lauren Kim, writing for the Colgate Maroon-News, highlights how a lack of trust stifles meaningful engagement with differing opinions. She highlights how, after Trump’s win, “we were lacking the trust we should have in one another to engage with differing opinions,” making open dialogue difficult within the classroom. Kim calls for fostering informed conversations where diverse viewpoints are respected, arguing that true learning can only happen in environments built on trust, open-mindedness, and respect. Rebuilding this trust is key to genuine intellectual growth.

In the face of these challenges, it’s important to remember the core purpose of political education: to dissect, question, and challenge. As first-term Trump White House official Olivia Troye explains, “The only reason they have the power and are continuing to do what they do is that people are going silent.” That silence isn’t just hesitation — it’s allowing the issue to persist. 

And we cannot afford to remain passive, not now. In a world where authoritarianism is creeping into every corner of public life, where the very fabric of democracy is under threat, silence is a dangerous luxury we cannot afford. If we want to be prepared for the future, we need professors who are willing to teach us how to stand up — how to confront power, how to challenge injustice, and how to speak out even when it’s uncomfortable.

Asking to quote a professor for an article in their own field shouldn’t be intimidating — it should be an opportunity to share their expertise with a broader audience. What we’re seeking isn’t even opinion, but rather clear educational guidance on the complex political world we navigate daily — one that is increasingly difficult to understand.

When professors avoid discussing politics, it’s not just about steering clear of controversy — it’s an opportunity lost to help students better understand the world they will soon inherit.

It’s disheartening that we’ve reached a point where political discourse is so feared, where the very act of engaging in meaningful dialogue is seen as a risk rather than a necessity. Overcoming this requires us to create spaces where differing perspectives are not only tolerated but also valued. 

So, to the faculty, I implore you: please stand up. Stand up and speak on behalf of your students and, more importantly, your beliefs and knowledge. In a time where political thought is too often treated as taboo, your willingness to engage openly isn’t just brave — it’s necessary. We come to college to question, to learn, and to grow. When you model that intellectual courage, you enrich our education in ways textbooks alone never could. Your voices help shape the kind of thinkers we become. And for that, we will be grateful.