[Marxism] David Horowitz (lengthy!)
lnp3 at panix.com
Mon May 2 12:22:47 MDT 2005
(I apologize for the length of this, but it is available only to Chronicle
of Higher Ed subscribers and we need to keep track of our enemies. This
article has the goods on them. There is one revelation in here that
deserves singling out. The author points out, "The academic bill of rights
may have its genesis back in Mr. Horowitz's grade school, but it really
started to take shape after a December 2002 meeting with some fellow
Republicans in New York. He met with Thomas F. Egan, chairman of the Board
of Trustees of the State University of New York System; Peter D. Salins,
the system's provost; and Candace de Russy, a member of the board, to
discuss the problem of leftist indoctrination in college classrooms and how
to solve it." So you have to ask yourself how David Horowitz inveigles
himself into meetings with top officials of the State university in order
to discuss "leftist indoctrination". Here's how it happens. With a
Republican governor and a spineless Democratic Party, you end up with
people like Candace de Russy. Here's some info on her from the SUNY Board
Dr. Candace de Russy is a nationally recognized writer and lecturer on
education and cultural issues. A former college professor, she was
appointed to the Board of Visitors of the U.S. Air Force Academy by
President George W. Bush in 2002; in 2005, when her term ended, she
received the Air Forces Exceptional Service Award.
Dr. de Russy has been a Member of the Board of Trustees of the State
University of New York since 1995. Her current term will expire in 2007.
For several years she served on the SUNY Boards Executive Committee and
chaired its Academic Standards Committee; she is a member of its Ad Hoc
Committee on Charter Schools.
In 2005 she joined the Board of Regents of Ave Maria University.
In 2004 she was named an Adjunct Fellow at the Hudson Institute in
Washington, D.C., where she focuses on governance, strategic planning,
assessment, accountability, funding and other issues in higher education.
In 2005 she became a Member of the Committee on the Present Danger, which
is dedicated to protecting and expanding democracy by winning the global
war against terrorism and the movements and ideologies that drive it.
Chronicle of Higher Education, May 6, 2005
What Makes David Run
David Horowitz demands attention for the idea that conservatives deserve a
place in academe
By JENNIFER JACOBSON
David Horowitz, one of the country's most famous converts to conservatism,
is waging a one-man war against the academy. Liberal college students, he
says, see their views reflected in textbooks. His kids, as he calls
conservative students, have to subscribe to The National Review to get a
balanced view of the world. So nearly every day, he is on the road,
promoting his "academic bill of rights" -- a set of principles that he says
will make universities more intellectually diverse and tolerant of
If he is lucky, maybe the next generation will read his name in its textbooks.
Mr. Horowitz stands at a podium in the Ohio Statehouse, hoping to persuade
the State Senate's education committee to support his academic bill of
rights. A compact man dressed sharply in a brown suit and green shirt, he
sports a goatee and longish hair, the only vestiges of his days as a
left-wing radical. First a Republican senator lobs him softball questions.
Then the hearing, held in March, takes a surprising turn. Sen. Teresa
Fedor, a Democrat, says she has a list of questions. Her tone, direct,
clipped, and not at all friendly, suggests she means business. "Mr.
Horowitz," she asks, "what is your current occupation?"
"Writer," he answers.
If only it were that simple. David Horowitz is a former leftist turned
conservative activist. At 66, he has indeed written more than 20 books,
nearly all of which denounce the faulty logic of the left. A popular campus
speaker among college Republicans, he is a deeply polarizing figure. In
April a student threw a pie in his face as he gave a speech in Indiana.
Nearly 20 years ago he co-founded the Center for the Study of Popular
Culture, a nonprofit organization based in Los Angeles that promotes
conservatism. The center runs an online advocacy journal, Frontpagemag.com,
where Mr. Horowitz writes a blog.
He is also the founder of Students for Academic Freedom, a national
watchdog group that helps college students document when professors
introduce their politics in the classroom. And he is the creator of
Discoverthenetworks.org, an online database that purports to catalog all
the organizations and individuals that make up what he calls "the left."
But his major focus now is his academic bill of rights, which calls on
public universities to expose students to a greater diversity of views in
curricula, reading lists, and campus speakers. The document, which Mr.
Horowitz wrote to stop what he sees as the rampant abuse of conservative
students by liberal professors, also prohibits the grading of students and
the hiring or firing of professors based on their political or religious
Universities have balked at adopting it, saying they already have such
principles and procedures in place. Mr. Horowitz insists they do not follow
them, and that the government should step in and force them to do so.
Critics -- including many prominent professors and traditional faculty
groups -- say the bill seeks to purge liberals from the academy and to
create quotas for hiring conservative professors.
"It's Orwellian," says Roger W. Bowen, general secretary of the American
Association of University Professors. "He's trying to create an atmosphere
in the classroom where faculty are not treated like the professionals that
Although it's called an academic bill of rights, "it's really an academic
bill of wrongs," Mr. Bowen continues. "The intent is to take away academic
The document itself strikes a decidedly nonpartisan tone. The problem many
people have with it is the partisanship of the man who wrote it.
Republicans, not Democrats, have sponsored Mr. Horowitz's bill.
Conservative students, not liberal ones, have testified in support of it.
And right-wing foundations, not left-leaning ones, contribute to his
center, and in turn, his campaign.
Mr. Horowitz is no Karl Rove. He does not have a large and powerful
operation, nor does he rally to the Republican cause of the day, whether
it's Terri Schiavo or Tom DeLay. He describes himself as moderate on
abortion, libertarian on censorship, and "the most prominent conservative
defender of gays" that he knows of.
For Mr. Horowitz, this battle is personal. He is feisty, single-minded, and
like many a professor, loves to lecture. He is a man of contradictions. An
ideologue with feelings, he is sensitive to how he appears in press
accounts and admits he sometimes overreacts. While he wants desperately to
be included in the academy -- for professors to assign his books and invite
him to speak in classes -- he seems eager to punish it, in part, for
turning a cold shoulder to his work. And although he contends his bill of
rights is not a political document, it is large conservative foundations
that make sure he, and the handful of people helping him, have plenty of
cash for the fight.
Mr. Horowitz acknowledges that his Republican credentials might not make
him the best person to lead this charge against the academy. But then
again, no one else could do the job, he says. It is perfectly suited to a
former radical. "Conservatives don't have this mentality of changing
institutions," he says. "I have an instinct of how to fight this battle."
A Republican senator objects when Senator Fedor asks Mr. Horowitz how much
money he makes. The hearing room buzzes. The committee chairwoman bangs her
gavel, and the senators confer. Ms. Fedor withdraws the question. A former
fourth-grade teacher, who will later say Mr. Horowitz is no different from
a bully in her classroom, she remains unfazed. She peers down at her list
and asks him another question: "Where do you get the majority of your
funding for this campaign?"
"My motivation has to do with a young man whose parents were Communists in
the McCarthy era ... ," Mr. Horowitz says before the committee chairwoman
suddenly interrupts him. She tells him to answer the question.
"I'm not going to answer the question," he says.
If the senator had not cut him off, here is what Mr. Horowitz would have
said: Back in the 1950s, even though he was a Marxist, his professors at
Columbia University never treated him poorly because of his politics. He
would have told the senators that in all his years in school -- from
kindergarten to graduate school -- he never heard a teacher or professor
express a political prejudice in class. Things are different now, he would
The academic bill of rights may have its genesis back in Mr. Horowitz's
grade school, but it really started to take shape after a December 2002
meeting with some fellow Republicans in New York. He met with Thomas F.
Egan, chairman of the Board of Trustees of the State University of New York
System; Peter D. Salins, the system's provost; and Candace de Russy, a
member of the board, to discuss the problem of leftist indoctrination in
college classrooms and how to solve it.
"I was among sort of friends," Mr. Horowitz says. "It allowed me to think
Based on their conversations, Mr. Horowitz drafted the bill, which he
modeled on the AAUP's own academic-freedom statement, written in 1940. The
AAUP statement says professors "are entitled to full freedom in research
and in the publication of the results," as well as in classroom discussions
of their subject, "but they should be careful not to introduce into their
teaching controversial matter which has no relation to their subject."
Mr. Horowitz says the academy has failed to enforce that guideline for
years, allowing liberalism to dominate college campuses and suppress
His campaign stems from "the desire to have a pluralism of ideas," he says.
"I don't want the universities to be conservative. I want them to be
Mr. Horowitz has always wanted to be a scholar himself.
After earning a bachelor's degree in English from Columbia, he attended the
University of California at Berkeley. He says he got bored with his
graduate program and left with a master's degree in English. "Everything
had been mined," he explains. There was "nothing to research that was
Instead he wrote a book on American foreign policy in the cold war, a book
on Marxist theory, and one on Shakespeare. In 1969, at the pinnacle of his
career as a radical, he became editor of Ramparts, a leading magazine of
the New Left, the 1960s political movement that was for civil rights and
against the war in Vietnam. He also counted as friends such prominent
figures in the movement as Tom Hayden and Todd Gitlin.
But in the 1970s, Mr. Horowitz abandoned the left. He says the murder of
his friend Betty Van Patter, a bookkeeper for the Black Panthers, along
with his conclusion that the antiwar movement was wrong about Vietnam, led
him to embrace conservative politics.
When his politics changed, liberal intellectuals shunned him. "For 20
years, when I have written books on the left, the left has ignored me," he
says. "It's just what Stalin did to Trotsky."
Prone to hyperbole, Mr. Horowitz does not mean to suggest that leftist
professors are trying to kill him. He simply believes he has been
blacklisted by academe. Although he says he was a "leading figure in the
New Left," professors do not assign his books, nor do they refer to his
work in the hundreds of courses taught on the 1960s, he says. They don't
invite him to speak in those courses, either.
To gain the recognition he believed he deserved, Mr. Horowitz established
the center, which features conservative programs such as catered lunches
with right-leaning luminaries who discuss their latest books. "I don't have
a platform in The New York Times," he says.
If he were liberal, he contends, he could be an editor at the Times or a
department chairman at Harvard University. And his life story would have
already been told on the big screen. Radical Son: A Generational Odyssey,
his autobiography, has been out for eight years. "Someone would have made a
film out of it if I was a leftist," he says bitterly.
He claims he would make more money as a liberal, too, "at least three
times," what he earns now. According to the center's most recent available
tax form, Mr. Horowitz received an annual salary of $310,167 in 2003. He
declines to give his current income, but in addition to his salary, Mr.
Horowitz receives about $5,000 for each of the 30 to 40 campus speeches he
gives each year.
College Republicans always invite him. Other student groups never do. "My
kids have to scrounge up the money off campus," he says, complaining that
student governments pay liberal speakers more than conservative ones.
Mr. Horowitz accuses the academy of trying to keep him away from students.
He still reaches some of them through the activities of his center, but one
senses he would prefer the classroom. "I enjoy the contact with students,"
he says. "I'd enjoy teaching."
Senator Fedor asks Mr. Horowitz another question about the financing for
"Do I get to ask a question?" he says.
"No, you do not," the committee chairwoman says.
The senator tries a different tack: "How many states are addressing a
"About 20 states," Mr. Horowitz says. "Most of the state legislators
contacted me. Rhode Island, Tennessee, Minnesota, Missouri. The one state I
went to was Colorado, where I made a concerted effort."
Ms. Fedor then questions him about Students for Academic Freedom.
"I have 150 student organizations," he says. "These are not a lobby. These
organizations are to defend student rights. I have three people who work
Sara Dogan is one of the three. As the national campus director of Students
for Academic Freedom, she helps students push for the academic bill of
rights on their campuses. "We're trying to promote academic freedom and
intellectual diversity," says Ms. Dogan, seated in her office in Washington.
The sign for Suite 1100, just steps from her office door, says National
Hispanic Medical Association. A piece of paper taped beneath says Students
for Academic Freedom. The group sublets space from the association, and Ms.
Dogan has a corner office, where she works alone. From her window, the
26-year-old has a nice view of K Street.
"Most people my age are in these tiny cubicles," she says. A bookshelf
filled with Mr. Horowitz's books lines one wall. A fax and copy machine sit
Ms. Dogan oversees the nearly 150 student chapters of the group that have
sprung up since Mr. Horowitz founded it two years ago. She runs the
organization's Web site, and monitors its complaint center, where students
post incidents of liberal professors harassing conservative students in the
classroom. She also writes scathing responses to articles that Mr. Horowitz
believes misrepresent what he has proposed.
If students have problems with a professor -- seeing their grades drop
after wearing a George Bush T-shirt to class, for instance -- Ms. Dogan is
often the first person they call. Some days, students call incessantly. On
an afternoon in March, when many of them are on spring break, the phone
rings only once.
A graduate of Yale University, Ms. Dogan worked at Accuracy in Academia, a
conservative, nonprofit organization that documents cases of political bias
on college campuses, before joining Students for Academic Freedom in 2003.
College Republicans have so successfully spread the word about the
organization that she no longer has to do much recruiting. "Students really
come to us," she says.
To start a campus chapter, students fill out a form posted on the group's
Web site. Some students tell her they have 30 members, while others may
have only two. "We don't really measure membership," Ms. Dogan says.
Once students have started a chapter, Ms. Dogan suggests they get others to
fill out complaint forms on professors they believe are indoctrinating
students, to help publicize the cause. She also suggests they see if
student fees support a diverse range of campus speakers. And she recommends
they meet with administrators to see if they're interested in adopting the
While Ms. Dogan links Mr. Horowitz to students, Bradley Shipp connects him
to state legislators. Mr. Shipp, 32, lives in Raleigh, N.C., and works out
of his home. (The center itself is located on the fourth floor of an office
building in downtown Los Angeles, but Mr. Horowitz prefers to work from
home.) A former political consultant with Rotterman & Associates, a North
Carolina-based, Republican media-consulting firm that once worked for Mr.
Horowitz, Mr. Shipp has helped run campaigns for Jesse Helms, the former
Republican senator. He now serves as national field director for Students
for Academic Freedom and helps students start chapters of their own.
But his main job is scheduling. He arranges Mr. Horowitz's campus visits
and meetings with Republican legislators who want to sponsor the bill.
Mr. Horowitz insists that he does not pick the states -- 16 so far -- where
legislators introduce the legislation. (The bill has also been introduced
in the U.S. House of Representatives as a resolution, and similar language
is also in the proposed extension of the Higher Education Act.) State
politicians contact him, he says. For instance, Sen. Larry A. Mumper, an
Ohio Republican, called Mr. Shipp. "I don't know how he knew to call Brad,"
Mr. Horowitz says.
The only state where Mr. Horowitz chose to launch his campaign was
Colorado, which he says he picked for the wrong reasons. After the SUNY
officials he met with in 2002 told him that professors there would never
support his bill, Mr. Horowitz set his sights west a year later. He hired a
University of Denver law student to help him coordinate the battle in Colorado.
In the end, Colorado's legislature did not pass the bill. But the hearings
and the testimony were enough to pressure public universities in the state
to sign a "memorandum of understanding" last spring in which they promised
to do more to follow the spirit of the document.
Mr. Horowitz has declared victory in Colorado. The government should
intervene in academe only as a last resort, he says, and he hopes to see
more such memoranda of understanding. Ultimately, he would prefer that
universities adopt the bill themselves, he says, but that is unlikely. "I
called the AAUP," he says. "My goal was 'Let's look at this. Can we try to
But the association was hostile from the beginning, he asserts. "If they
had supported it, the universities would have supported it," he says.
"There would be no battle." (Jonathan Knight, an associate secretary of the
AAUP, says it is possible that Mr. Horowitz e-mailed the association a
couple of years ago, but he doesn't remember.)
For the AAUP's Mr. Bowen, Mr. Horowitz is less of a concern than the
legislators who are taking his bill of rights seriously. "David Horowitz
himself has little power," he says, "but state legislators do."
Mr. Bowen fears that if those legislators do pass the bill, it will "put a
monitor in classrooms," increase the role of government, and make
litigation at the college and university level more frequent and more
Todd Gitlin, now a professor of journalism and sociology at Columbia, also
has a problem with the bill as legislation. The actual text of it is fine,
he says. "If it came across my desk as a petition, I'd probably sign it."
But "the attempt to rope legislatures into enforcing rules of fairness and
decorum on university campuses is misguided and perverse."
"Who funds your center?" Senator Fedor asks Mr. Horowitz. She has asked
this question three times in three different ways.
"Ten foundations," Mr. Horowitz says. "Thirty-five thousand people. I am
less well funded than the American Association of University Professors,
far less well funded than the ACLU. This is a bizarre line of questioning,
if I may say so."
The committee chairwoman reminds him to stick to answering the questions.
"Well, this is an ad hominem attack that has nothing to do with the bill of
rights," Mr. Horowitz says. "What are you trying to show? Do I represent
the oil-and-gas lobby? Is that what this is about?"
In addition to the 35,000 individuals that contribute to Mr. Horowitz's
center, several conservative foundations regularly send large checks. The
most well known among them include the Sarah Scaife Foundation, which the
conservative billionaire Richard Mellon Scaife runs, and the Lynde and
Harry Bradley Foundation, which, according to its Web site, is "devoted to
strengthening American democratic capitalism" and supports "limited,
According to the most recent tax forms available, the two foundations gave
a total of $620,000 to the center in 2003. Since 1998, the two groups have
contributed about $3.5-million. The center received about $3.26-million in
donations in 2003, and Michael Finch, the center's executive director, says
about 40 percent of that comes from foundations.
Mr. Bowen of the AAUP says that none of the foundations that contribute to
Mr. Horowitz's center give to his association. "If they really were
supporting academic freedom, they should be sending money our way," he says.
The board of Mr. Horowitz's center is similarly conservative. David Keene,
chairman of the American Conservative Union; Wayne LaPierre Jr., executive
vice president and chief executive officer of the National Rifle
Association; and John O'Neill, spokesman for the Swift Boat Veterans for
Truth, are members, as are Bruce H. Hooper, president of the Elizabeth S.
Hooper Foundation, and Norman Hapke, a member of the board of the Jacobs
Family Foundation, both of which contribute to the center.
Despite his ties to the Republican Party, Mr. Horowitz says his biggest
disappointment is that he doesn't have liberal and nonpartisan support. "I
have to take responsibility," he says. "It's just me. I'm a hot-button
But in the next breath, Mr. Horowitz concedes that he seeks people for his
board for whom he has an "affinity," and that he has never invited liberals
to join. "I've tried to keep on the board people who will raise money for
me," he says. "The center is a personal campaign of my agendas."
Mr. Horowitz says he made an attempt (he admits not a "tremendous" one) to
ask academics on the left, such as Stanley Fish, to support his bill of
rights. But when Mr. Fish, dean emeritus of the College of Liberal Arts and
Sciences at the University of Illinois at Chicago, said no, he concluded
that other university administrators would similarly decline. "They
wouldn't survive being associated with David Horowitz," he says.
Fellow conservatives don't expect the bill to win liberal support anytime
soon. "It's a slow process, overturning those that stand in the
university's doors, guarding leftist ideology," says Joe R. Hicks, a friend
of Mr. Horowitz's who served as the center's executive director a few years
ago. "Hopefully, others will join him." But Mr. Hicks says he is not naïve
enough to think liberals would want to change the academy or embrace Mr.
Horowitz's difficult personality. "Certainly, he's a prickly individual."
He is also an obstinate one. During the hearing in Ohio, Mr. Horowitz would
not name the foundations that contribute to his center, promising to mail
Senator Fedor the complete list when he returned to his office.
Just after the hearing, Mr. Horowitz admits that he does, in fact, remember
who gives him money. "She wanted me to say Richard Mellon Scaife," he says,
standing in his hotel lobby. "I like Dick Scaife. He's been utterly demonized."
He also complains that the senator asked him about his income. "Teresa
Heinz Kerry didn't give her income," he says. "It's like the sacred cow in
American life. It was too personal. [The senator] said right away, 'I want
to know what your motive is,' as though I'm proposing to legalize
prostitution or something."
Weeks after the hearing, with the list of conservative foundations that
contribute to his center in hand, Ms. Fedor calls Mr. Horowitz a political
hack. "His whole organization is one big political propaganda tool for
Republicans," she says.
He bristles at the accusation. "No one, not Dick Scaife, not the Bradley
Foundation, told me to do this," he says. "The idea that it's a plot cooked
up in their boardrooms is idiotic." He finds the notion that this campaign
is his revenge on the academy similarly absurd. He says he wants a place at
the table for conservatives like Dinesh D'Souza and Victor Davis Hanson,
not just for himself.
"Of course it rankles," he says of the books never assigned, the
invitations to speak never sent. "But it would be a complete distortion to
say that this is about one man."
January 10, 1939, Queens, N.Y. (Forest Hills)
Queens, N.Y. (Long Island City)
* A.B. in English, Columbia University, 1959
* M.A. in English, University of California at Berkeley, 1961
A few of the more than 20 books he has written
* Radical Son: A Generational Odyssey (Free Press, 1997)
* How to Beat the Democrats, and Other Subversive Ideas (Spence
Publishing Company, 2002)
* Unholy Alliance: Radical Islam and the American Left (Regnery
On his nightstand
The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky; Quarantine, by Jim Crace;
and Restoring Free Speech and Liberty on Campus, by Donald Alexander Downs
In his stereo
"I go for baroque," he says.
What he drives
Lincoln Town Car, 2004
Chihuahuas Jake and Lucy, and Winnie, a Burmese mountain dog. He also has
two canaries and two finches.
Married to April Mullvain Horowitz, a photographer, for seven years. They
live in Los Angeles County. "I love my work space," he says. "I sit at my
desk with my laptop. I listen to music. I take the dogs for a walk. Like
most writers, I live in my head." He has four children from his first
marriage, four grandchildren, and a stepson.
DAVID HOROWITZ'S NETWORK
David Horowitz recently started Discoverthenetworks.org, an online database
of left-wing organizations and individuals. The site includes pictures and
profiles of organizations like the American Association of University
Professors and professors like Cornel West. It names George Soros and
Teresa Heinz Kerry among the liberal establishment's major contributors.
Mr. Horowitz, of course, has contributors of his own. Here's a glimpse of
his network of friends and financial supporters, and some of his projects:
Lynde and Harry Bradley Foundation
The Milwaukee-based charitable organization is devoted to democratic
capitalism and limited government.
* Between 1998 and 2003, it contributed $2.2-million to Mr. Horowitz's
center, according to Form 990 tax filings for those years.
* Among the winners this year of the foundation's annual $250,000
Bradley Prizes were George F. Will, the conservative columnist, and Ward
Connerly, founder of the American Civil Rights Institute.
Sarah Scaife Foundation
Richard Mellon Scaife, the scion of the Mellon oil and banking empire, is
chairman of this Pittsburgh-based charitable organization.
* Between 1998 and 2003, it contributed $1.3-million to the center.
* The foundation is also a major contributor to conservative
organizations like the American Enterprise Institute, the Manhattan
Institute for Policy Studies, and the Heritage Foundation.
John M. Olin Foundation
The New York-based philanthropic organization, started in 1953 by the late
inventor and industrialist, encouraged research on public policy in social
and economic fields.
* Between 1998 and 2003, it contributed $1.265 million to the center.
* The foundation has been a major contributor to American colleges and
universities, as well as a supporter of conservative intellectuals like
Allan Bloom, Linda Chavez, and Dinesh D'Souza. The foundation, which has
spent essentially all of its assets, plans to close this year.
Other large donors to the Center for the Study of Popular Culture:
* The Randolph Foundation: $245,000 between 1998 and 2001
* The Vernon K. Krieble Foundation: $125,000 between 1999 and 2003
* Castle Rock Foundation: $150,000 between 1998 and 2001
* Elizabeth S. Hooper Foundation: $56,000 between 2001 and 2004
* Jacobs Family Foundation (San Diego): $52,200 between 1997 and 2004
Students for Academic Freedom
A national organization that helps students track cases of professors who
introduce their political views in the classroom. The group has more than
150 campus chapters in 43 states and Washington, D.C. (States without
chapters are Alaska, Arkansas, Hawaii, Idaho, Mississippi, North Dakota,
* The center's executive director says the project has a $500,000
* Just three people work on the project: Sara Dogan, national campus
director, based in Washington; Bradley Shipp, Mr. Horowitz's chief
scheduler and legislative liaison, based in Raleigh, N.C.; and Ryan Call,
regional coordinator, based in Denver.
Center for the Study of Popular Culture
A Los Angeles-based, conservative, nonprofit organization. Mr. Horowitz
founded it in 1988 with Peter Collier, publisher of Encounter Books, based
in San Francisco. Mr. Collier and Mr. Horowitz edited Ramparts, a leftist
political magazine from 1969 to 1973 and wrote several books together.
* The center brought in about $3.26-million dollars in donations in
2003, according to its tax forms. That year Mr. Horowitz earned $310,167.
* The center's board includes John O'Neill, spokesman for the Swift
Boat Veterans for Truth; David Keene, chairman of the American Conservative
Union; Wayne LaPierre Jr., chief executive of the National Rifle
Association; and Marlene Mieske, who is also a member of the board of
directors for the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education.
The Center for the Study of Popular Culture's online journal features Mr.
Horowitz's blog and articles by conservative college students and by
well-known conservative writers like Ann Coulter and Daniel Pipes.
Wednesday Morning Club
One of the center's regular programs: a speaker series that has included
the writer Christopher Hitchens; William Kristol, editor of The Weekly
Standard; and U.S. House Majority Leader Tom DeLay.
States whose legislatures have introduced the "academic bill of rights," a
list of principles that Mr. Horowitz says colleges should follow to make
their campuses more politically diverse: California, Colorado, Delaware,
Florida, Georgia, Indiana, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, Minnesota,
Missouri, North Carolina, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Washington
David Horowitz is a former left-wing radical who converted to political
conservatism. A one-time supporter of the Black Panther Party, he has
canvassed the country this year to make college campuses more tolerant of
conservatives like himself. He is now president of the Center for the Study
of Popular Culture, a conservative, nonprofit organization "dedicated to
defending the cultural foundations of a free society," according to its Web
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