Becoming a Conservative, an American, and a General

Becoming a Conservative, an American, and a General

My journey to the W&L faculty taught me valuable lessons about excellence and open dialogue.

(W&L emeritus professor Roger Dean. Source: Washington and Lee University)

September 11, 1976 was an important day. It was my 29th birthday and, more importantly, the day I arrived in the U.S. to begin graduate school. Seven years later I was offered a faculty position at Washington and Lee University.

But in 1976 Gerald Ford was President and was being challenged for reelection by Jimmy Carter of Georgia.

Carter interested me. First, he publicly acknowledged that he was a born-again Christian and taught Sunday School at his hometown Baptist Church. That got my attention because I too was a professing evangelical Christian. However, in my home country of Australia, while the Church of England was the official state church, few people attended regularly, and even fewer discussed their religion in public.

And secondly, Mr. Carter was running against the Washington establishment (what Donald Trump would later call “The Swamp”). At that time Australia too was governed by an entrenched political establishment, the Queen of England was head of state, and the economy was essentially socialist.

Approximately 50% of workers were at some level government employees. Universities were tuition free; the national health service provided free healthcare; citizens received a non-contributory old-age pension upon retirement; utilities and transportation were either government owned or strictly controlled; and employee salaries and benefits were mandated by government panels.

For example, all workers received four weeks of paid vacation each year, a ten-week service vacation after ten years of employment, 17.5% extra pay while on vacation, plus around 15 days of public holidays. All workers got these paid days off, not just government employees as in the U.S. These government programs and mandates were funded with confiscatory taxes, and many things Americans consider essentials were luxuries in Australia.

A paternalistic government knew what was best for you and took care of you from the womb to the tomb. Australians valued leisure. Don’t get me wrong, most Australians at that time were happy. They subscribed to the notion of “cutting the heads off tall poppies” — if you were successful, you made others look bad, so you were cut down to size.

Compare this to America’s exceptionalism as a country of nearly unlimited potential and opportunity where success is celebrated.

Although I couldn’t vote — I was in the country on a student visa — I was delighted when Jimmy Carter won. I anticipated great things during the next four and hopefully eight years.

Was I disappointed. The Carter presidency was a disaster — double-digit inflation, double-digit unemployment, mortgage interest of 12-14 percent, and gas shortages with long lines at the pump.

As for foreign policy, Carter preached human rights; the Russians responded by invading Afghanistan, and Iranian militants seized 66 Americans at the U.S. embassy in Tehran, holding 52 of them hostage for more than a year. America was seen as impotent. Some citizens even wished Nixon was still in the White House.

Salvation came when Ronald Reagon defeated Jimmy Carter in November 1980 and was inaugurated as President on January 20, 1981. I was glued to the TV on Inauguration Day.

I watched as a TV announcer approached a lady decked out in fur, diamonds, and pearls at the Inauguration Ball.

Announcer: “Ma’am, don’t you think you are being ostentatious given all the suffering in this country?”

Lady: “Sir, we Texans who have worked our asses off all our lives, thank God that we no longer need to apologize for being successful.”

It was that night when I decided to become an American and a Republican.  No more “cutting the heads off tall poppies.”

But first, I had to obtain a green card which identified me as a resident alien. This involved a criminal background check, a medical examination including an AIDS test and chest x-ray (to prove that I would not be a drain on the U.S. medical system), evidence that I could support myself (so I would not be a burden on the U.S. economy), and evidence that I would not keep a qualified American from a job.

This took about 12 months. After five years as a legal resident alien, I was able to apply for citizenship. Finally on July 4th, 1987, I took the oath of citizenship at Monticello.

While becoming a citizen, I wanted to learn all I could about US culture. I studied the founding documents, U.S. history, and many classics of American literature. Increasingly I was becoming a conservative.

In the summer of 1983, W&L advertised an open faculty position in the Williams School, which was then known as the C-School. I knew little about W&L except that it was named for two great American heroes — Washington and Lee.

I did some research. I read extensively — college reviews, admissions brochures, and the capital campaign literature prepared for then-President Robert Huntley. I talked with some alumni and faculty and visited Lexington. I learned that professors were committed to teaching, with small classes and an average of seven classes each year. Faculty were expected to keep current in their discipline but there was no expectation for publications.

I was impressed by the school’s history, traditions, and culture. I wanted a community that valued teaching, honor, and collegiality, and had students who were intelligent, socially mature, ambitious, and eager to learn. Washington and Lee University was a perfect fit. I was proud to join this outstanding community.

Soon after I joined W&L in January 1984, late politics professor John Handleman sneered when he saw me reading the National Review in the faculty lounge. We had quite a spirited political conversation. Then we went out for a beer. Although we disagreed vehemently, it was not personal. We remained friends.

In my early years at W&L, I had similar discussions with multiple colleagues. We disagreed without being disagreeable.

The 1984 Democratic Mock Convention was held soon after I arrived in Lexington. A student group (I’m not sure if it was the Ring Tum Phi or a Mock Con committee) surveyed students and faculty as to their candidate preferences in that year’s general election.

If I remember correctly, about 90% of students planned to vote for President Reagan’s reelection, while about 90% of the faculty preferred challenger Walter Mondale, who had been President Carter’s VP. My colleagues threw up their hands in mock despair as if to lightly poke “where have we gone wrong?”

Unfortunately, this collegiality dissipated over the years. Just as our nation has departed from President Reagan’s vision as the Shining City on the Hill, W&L is departing from the history and traditions which made it a special place. It became (and is becoming) less tolerant of those with ideas that do not conform to the prevailing liberal orthodoxy.

I have observed conservative faculty being denied advancement and committee appointments, given lower than average salary increases, and generally marginalized. I served on several search committees where otherwise qualified candidates were removed from consideration because of concerns about their religious or social values.

For example, a candidate for a tenured faculty position, with outstanding qualifications, was rejected because he was currently employed at a conservative Christian university in Texas. I also recall committee members expressing concern that a faculty candidate with a Ph.D. from a top research university had earned his undergraduate degree at Liberty University. 

Some colleagues confided that they hid their conservatism and often pretended to support the liberal agenda. Personally, I was reprimanded by my dean and other administrators for discussing my political and religious beliefs with students outside the classroom and even off campus. I have been called racist, which is flabbergasting given my multi-racial, multi-cultural family that includes Asian, Latino, and Jewish relatives in addition to Caucasian members.

Interestingly, some of the criticism came from people who joined W&L when it was a predominantly white college, live in predominantly white neighborhoods, and send their kids to predominantly white schools and colleges.

For many years I was proud to be a member of the W&L community. Today I’m not so sure.

[The opinions expressed in this magazine are the author's own and do not reflect the official policy or position of The Spectator, or any students or other contributors associated with the magazine. It is the intention of The Spectator to promote student thought and civil discourse, and it is our hope to maintain that civility in all discussions.]