From the Academy

“In politics, the professor plays the comic role.” So said Nietzsche; and in this, by and large, he wrote truly. We have had some American professors who became prudent and valuable legislators and political administrators, and I wish we had more of them. Yet most professorial aspirants to office are fish out of water, doing mischief to themselves, the academy, and the state. One of these latter is a person as yet unknown to the nation at large, but momentarily of a little influence in the practical politics of Michigan: Professor Paul Bagwell, head of the Department of Communications Skills, Michigan State University.

When, a few years ago, Mr. Bag-well was a tyro professor-politician, there seemed some disposition on the part of the authorities of MSC—where I was then his colleague—to curtail his political speech-making, since it might not be “good public relations.” On that occasion I wrote to the local newspaper office: a letter which did not endear me to the powers that were at MSC. (No Liberals seem to have written letters on this occasion.) For all its rodomontade, Voltaire’s alleged remark, “I disagree with what you say, but will defend to the death your right to say it,” ought not to be forgotten. So I do not object to Mr. Bagwell’s turning politician, per se. I doubt whether I really should fight to the death to secure his ambitions, let alone his person; but I would risk some preferment for the principle at stake. What I object to is not to his turning politician, but to the kind of politician he has turned out to be.

RK

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Russell Kirk

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“In politics, the professor plays the comic role.” So said Nietzsche; and in this, by and large, he wrote truly. We have had some American professors who became prudent and valuable legislators and political administrators, and I wish we had more of them. Yet most professorial aspirants to office are fish out of water, doing mischief to themselves, the academy, and the state. One of these latter is a person as yet unknown to the nation at large, but momentarily of a little influence in the practical politics of Michigan: Professor Paul Bagwell, head of the Department of Communications Skills, Michigan State University.

When, a few years ago, Mr. Bag-well was a tyro professor-politician, there seemed some disposition on the part of the authorities of MSC—where I was then his colleague—to curtail his political speech-making, since it might not be “good public relations.” On that occasion I wrote to the local newspaper office: a letter which did not endear me to the powers that were at MSC. (No Liberals seem to have written letters on this occasion.) For all its rodomontade, Voltaire’s alleged remark, “I disagree with what you say, but will defend to the death your right to say it,” ought not to be forgotten. So I do not object to Mr. Bagwell’s turning politician, per se. I doubt whether I really should fight to the death to secure his ambitions, let alone his person; but I would risk some preferment for the principle at stake. What I object to is not to his turning politician, but to the kind of politician he has turned out to be.