Sport  

Back to the Reservation

by Andrew Ferguson

The NCAA's asinine decree is not about sports, or even about Native Americans. It's about forcing people to think like they do.

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"The presidents and chancellors who serve on the NCAA [National Collegiate Athletics Association] Executive Committee have adopted a new policy to prohibit NCAA colleges and universities from displaying hostile and abusive racial/ethnic/national origin mascots, nicknames or imagery at any of the 88 NCAA Championships." Thus began a press release that touched off a flurry of metaphors: the NCAA is on the warpath; scalping member schools; refusing the peace pipe — on and on.

The policy is hypocritical and egregiously stupid. The NCAA is presenting itself as the champion of the Native American cause, even though many Native American tribes are happy to have their names invoked, both for the sake of being remembered, and for the money that comes from marketing. Native American objections to Indian mascots come mainly from tribes outside these revenue streams, led by a vocal activist vanguard.

With these activists providing an ethical justification, the NCAA's officials are free to view themselves as enlightened despots, whose just and holy quest is to spread civilization to the savages. If the savages want no part in such an obviously superior way of life, why, they'll get routed in battle and marched off into exile, down trails leading only to obscurity. Who are these savages, these barbaric unbelievers? The fans, of course — the beer-swilling, tailgating, racist morons who fill the stands. With one hand the NCAA seizes the natives' resources (ticket money, advertising, merchandising); with the other, it shoves a conqueror's ideology down their throats — oddly enough, exactly how a Marxist would describe the behavior of a typical, exploitative colonial power.

After the announcement, fans of the affected schools circled the wagons to prepare their defense. They sought out a few sympathizers: for instance, Florida governor Jeb Bush spoke in support of the Florida State Seminoles. But on the whole, commentators opposing the egregious stupidity depicted the NCAA's statement as a surprise attack, as "political correctness run amok." They missed the point. This isn't an ambush: it's a minor skirmish, a small battle on one front of a major cultural campaign. The NCAA's mission statement says as much when it includes in its Core Purpose a desire to "integrate intercollegiate athletics into higher education."

Those words should chill the marrow of anyone who's paid any attention to higher education in the past few decades. For those who haven't, a quick summary: the late '60s saw small, dedicated groups of students forcing open the doors of administrative policy, seizing control of institutions in support of "free speech." This was good, in that it effectively ended the discretionary powers administrators justified as in loco parentis, but bad in that it convinced many small groups of students that they could bring about any social change they desired through determination alone. The problem with this approach is that boredom and failure weeds out the moderates: since it is the extremists who are most determined to change society, it is the extremists who remain when all others have moved on. Usually the interest group itself dies out around this time (witness PETA's descent into frothing madness), but here the protesters still controlled the institutions they'd taken over.

Thus when the moderates who toasted "free speech" fell away, the extremists who interpreted that to mean "freedom of opportunity to speak" redoubled their efforts. The semantic shift they effected — favoring equality over liberty — has led, ironically if predictably, to all manner of ills and indignities: racial quotas, sexual harassment witch hunts, Donna Shalala, et al.

"Higher education," as modern-day mission statements would have it, is not about education, and certainly not about learning: it's about changing cultural consciousness by any means necessary. It is about instructing the members of a society in what to think, and punishing them if they do not think that way. The higher-ed extremists are trying to establish utopias that are not only free of racism (or sexism, or homophobia), but free from the possibility of thinking a racist thought. This appears to be a secular twist on a classical argument for God's existence: if the thought of racism is present, that must mean racism itself is present. Any thought that can be construed as racist must be racist, regardless of intent or context; and any person who has one of these purportedly racist thoughts is contributing to a "hostile environment" that prevents others from feeling free to speak.

Take a look back at the NCAA press statement. Note the phrase "hostile and abusive" — this is their way of applying the "hostile environment" standard to member schools, in accord with their efforts to integrate collegiate athletics into higher education. Charles Kupchella, the president of the University of North Dakota (the Fighting Sioux), wrote a tart letter to the NCAA demanding an explanation and promising an appeal. Kupchella seized upon the "hostile and abusive" phrase, and ran through a litany of things UND has done for Native American students. His response is admirable, and worth reading in full (it's available at UND's website) but he made a mistake in waiting too long to respond. He should have sent the letter last November, when the NCAA was conducting preliminary hearings.

Then, according to the NCAA's statement, "33 schools were asked to submit self-evaluations to the NCAA National Office to determine the extent, if any, of the use of Native American imagery or references on their campuses." Cultural diversity, gender equity, and nondiscrimination were listed as specific criteria on which the schools would be judged.

Fourteen schools saw that the fix was in, and caved. Some changed their names, like Stonehill College switching from the Chieftains to the Skyhawks. Some changed their imagery, like Merrimack College switching from a Warrior dressed like an Indian to a Warrior dressed like a Roman. The Aztecs of San Diego State and the Rainbow Warriors of Hawaii made their mascots more "authentic" (though you'd think an authentic Aztec would be more stereotypically savage and bloodthirsty than a white guy in facepaint at a football game) and have thus far been allowed to keep them — though protests persist at both campuses.

Eighteen schools are trying to keep their mascots. These can be divided into two categories: those with a chance and those without. Those without a chance are the schools with generic Native American mascots, like the Braves of Alcorn State, the Indians of Arkansas State, or the Redmen of Carthage College. Many schools who had these mascots already ditched them in favor of silly alternatives, like St. John's (N.Y.) becoming the Red Storm instead of the Redmen. The NCAA loves this sort of change, because it lets them point and say, "They did it, now you will too." The teacher's pet schools that make these types of changes are "model institutions," following "best practices," and it is their example that dooms Indians and Braves nationwide.

The schools that have a chance are the ones with specific tribal mascots: the Utes of Utah, the Chippewas of Central Michigan, the aforementioned Seminoles and Fighting Sioux. Most of these schools have explicit permission from tribal authorities to use the names, and they work with the tribes to manage their imagery very carefully. The NCAA has said that the testimony of tribal leaders will be crucial in the appeals process, so some of these schools may be allowed to keep their names — for now. But even if they win that battle, they'll lose ground in the war: the "model institutions" will see to that. Already, the Universities of Iowa and Wisconsin refuse to schedule games with schools who have "hostile and abusive" mascots (except Illinois, who they are required to play under conference rules). Other schools will be pressured into adopting this "best practice," and in time even wealthy schools like Florida State may be forced into dropping their mascots just so they can get a game.

That's 32 schools accounted for. The 33rd, the Braves of North Carolina-Pembroke, must be considered on their own, because they're going to keep their mascot with full NCAA approval. Pembroke adopted the Braves nickname back in the '40s, when the student body was 100% Native American (compared to 20% today). Apparently, this sets them apart from the other schools, which "[have] not demonstrated that their use of a Native American mascot . . . was the result of Native Americans attending or being associated with that institution." This last statement, from the NCAA's press release on Pembroke, is ridiculous. As Kupchella points out in his letter, North Dakota has 25 separate programs to support Native American students; they've produced 20% of all Native American doctors in the country today, they've trained nurses, psychologists, and pilots. Any of the other schools can point to their Native American associations and attendees — but that doesn't matter. Pembroke is keeping their mascot because they demonstrated that they are a school by Native Americans, for Native Americans; in the NCAA's view, they cannot be contributing to a hostile environment because they are the environment, and they cannot be hostile to themselves.

This is what the NCAA president Miles Brand meant when he suggested that the decision aims at "initiating a discussion on a national basis about how American Indians have been characterized." For the academic utopians, a hostile environment eliminates the possibility of discussion. In order to initiate a discussion, one must clear the way for discussion to take place; i.e., get rid of whatever is considered hostile. So paint over the courts, toss blankets over the statues, whitewash the campus, and then maybe we can talk about whether you can keep all the stuff you just got rid of. Kupchella asks, "Do you really expect us to host a tournament in which [Native American] names and images are covered in some way that would imply that we are ashamed of them?" The utopian responds, "As long as those names and images are present, you should be ashamed."

This seeming stalemate is actually a victory for the NCAA: in the interest of initiating a discussion, they have stifled any possibility of one. So far only Pembroke has avoided being preemptively labeled a "hostile environment," and in 2007, barring any other successful appeal, Pembroke will be the only place in the country where any aspect of Native American culture can be celebrated in an NCAA-sanctioned athletic event. A tidy solution: restrict all that Indian stuff to a little plot of land no one cares about, where it can't get out and be hostile or abusive to anyone. The word reservation comes to mind.

I could be wrong. College boosters have a lot of pull, and they started tugging on strings as soon as they recovered from the initial shock. By the time this issue reaches the newsstand, the NCAA may already have given in to some of the richer schools. But winning through power politics would be the worst possible result for the colleges: it wouldn't change anyone's mind, and it wouldn't challenge the "hostile environment" test. People would go on thinking that the NCAA just went a little nuts.

But the NCAA is not acting alone or out of character. The entire educational establishment, higher or not, is in on this crusade. There are activist groups that exist solely to pressure elementary schools into giving up their Native American mascots. NCAA president Brand called the Native American controversy a "teachable moment." What sounds more teachable: having a mascot like the Choctaw or Cherokee that provides a ready-made lesson plan about an area's Native American heritage, or settling for a generic mascot like the Tigers or the Hawks?

To people like Brand, a "teachable moment" is not a time for disseminating information, or leading people to a point where they can make tentative conclusions based on what they have learned. No, a teachable moment is one in which there is a chance to transform human consciousness, to bring humanity a step closer to the "best practices" ideal. (Other teachable moments include the enactment of campus speech codes, mandatory sensitivity training sessions, and the destruction of colleagues' lives and careers for unfortunate slips of the tongue.)

Teachable moments, hostile environments, model institutions: this is the vocabulary of today's National Collegiate Athletic Association. For them, this policy isn't about sports, and only tangentially about Native Americans. What it's about is controlling the rules of discourse: initiating discussion by first eradicating any thought that may be perceived as hostile; or better yet, turning the discussion into a lecture, with the superior teacher condescending to the willful, unruly, yet "teachable" students.

The NCAA wants to see itself as a virtuous conqueror, bringing civilization to the uncivilized. This viewpoint has gone unchallenged for too long. It is more like an unwelcome invader, interfering where it is neither wanted nor needed, while ignoring the genuinely beneficial duties that should be its only concern.

Sherlock Holmes often noted the importance of rejecting the impossible and focusing on whatever remained, however improbable. The NCAA should heed his advice and concentrate on improbable tasks, like limiting corruption in big-money college sports, rather than impossible ones like changing human consciousness by fiat.

© Copyright 2008, Liberty Foundation

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