Something big happened last Wednesday evening. Advance word of a scheduled Tibetan solidarity vigil spread across the Internet. In response, the Chinese community from across the Triangle turned out on the Chapel Quadrangle by the hundreds to stage a counterprotest. They vastly outnumbered the small Duke Human Rights Coalition, and the two groups shouted, chanted and generally engaged in what The Chronicle reported was a heavily policed, nonviolent "clash" in front of the Chapel.
The fallout from this confrontation represents one of the fundamental questions of political science.
"They're violating our rights to free speech," claimed Human Rights Coalition member Daniel Cordero, a junior, referring to the pro-China demonstrators.
Really? Do they not also have the right to free speech? Doesn't the First Amendment guarantee that both groups can peaceably assemble? But what if they want to demonstrate on the same quad at the same time? Oh, this is complicated.
The Constitution promises us that "Congress shall make no law abridging" these rights. But it doesn't tell us who wins if, by exercising his own rights, one person abridges the rights of another.
Think of it this way. I have often heard the concept of constitutionally protected rights explained using the metaphor of a sledgehammer. This is how it works: you have every right to swing a sledgehammer in wild circles, unless in doing so you hit me. Here we find that your right to swing a sledgehammer overlaps rather violently with my right not to be hit by a sledgehammer. At this the point your business becomes our business, and we have a problem.
Some real world examples: you can own a gun, but you can't shoot me with it; you can write and say what you want, except for libel about me; you can practice whatever religion speaks to you, unless it involves sacrificing me.
The problem with the sledgehammer metaphor, as with the Constitution, is that it doesn't address the conflict that arises at the point of impact. A concussive blow to the temple will be the result if we both exercise our rights. The question is, should I have seen you swinging the hammer and stopped walking toward you, or should you have seen me walking toward you and stopped swinging the hammer? If we both continue to operate as if the other doesn't exist, somebody is going to get hurt. The Constitution may not tell us how, but we can easily avoid this outcome. All we have to do is communicate.
Let's bring the focus back to the "clash" on the quad. The Human Rights Coalition had every right to demonstrate on the quad. The pro-China collective had every right to demonstrate on the quad. Like a hammer-swinger and a bystander, the integrity of each group would have been unquestioned in the absence of the other.
If we refuse to assign a moral prerogative to either the pro-Tibet or the Pro-China protesters, who has more of a right to demonstrate? We could simply say that the pro-Tibet group was there first, but that doesn't seem fair; or that the pro-China group has more people, but that isn't quite right either. The fact that seems to complicate the issue even further, but may in fact turn out to be the solution to the problem, is that each group is only there because of the other.
Stew for a moment in the tremendous irony of this situation. Cordero was able to make a statement about the suppression of his freedom of speech on Wednesday and see it on the front page on Thursday. Moreover, the presence of the very group responsible for the suppression was the only reason that a story about a vigil for Tibet attracted enough attention to make the front page.
Similarly, had the pro-Tibet group not been present, the pro-China demonstrators would not have gathered at all, and much of Duke would still be oblivious to the fact that people other than Chinese bureaucrats support China's position in Tibet. In clashing on the quad, both groups did a great service to one another.
The Constitution tells both groups that they have a right to demonstrate but doesn't say who has more of a right. It is honorable that when the hammer-swinger and the bystander found themselves dangerously close together on the Chapel quad they chose to communicate with one another rather than pressing on and acting surprised when somebody got popped. True to form for Duke, the two sides communicated, agreeing to postpone the confrontation and parlay it into a regulated and civil panel discussion, to be held Wednesday evening in Griffith Film Theater.
Andrew Kindman is a Trinity sophomore. This is his final column of the semester.
Get The Chronicle straight to your inbox
Signup for our weekly newsletter. Cancel at any time.