Malcolm X was a radical, hate-spewing, violent, anti-American racist. Explain to me then, in all earnestness: how could Columbia dedicate a room in his honor?
For the uninitiated, the "Malcolm X Lounge," formerly room 106, stands deep within the Hartley complex, nearly visible from the building's main entrance. Quite inconspicuous from afar, only close inspection reveals a plaque dedicating the room to Malcolm X. Some would characterize the naming of a room as a small affair, and with them I wholeheartedly agree, but the premise is far from a trivial matter. The fact that a man, a radical hatemonger unrelated to the University, will have honors bestowed upon him is not only appalling, but disappointing. What of other Columbia alumni, dare I say the occasional Columbia conservative, who have done more to promote a free and equitable society through non-violence but lack the agency of political correctness (read diversity) to be honored?
First, if I may, allow me to substantiate the aforementioned claims with Malcolm's own FBI file, a compilation of letters, testimony, and recorded conversations with Mr. X, or rather Mr. Little. If I may quote from the text directly, "The subject did, however, admit that during World War II he had admired the Japanese people and soldiers and that he would have liked to join the Japanese Army at the time." Odd, Mr. Little was deemed "insane" when called upon to serve his nation. Faking it... sure he was. Admittedly, however, I couldn't stop laughing while reading his FBI file, a treasure trove filled with literal "white devil" conspiracy theories like this little gem:
"It was expected [by Malcolm] that the negro race would be the rulers of the world and it had been indicated that the white man's rule in the US would end in 1955 ... continuously referred to as the Battle of Armageddon."
Crazy? Indeed. Remember, this is the same man who, in 1963, as a response to the assassination of President Kennedy, remarked, "Chickens coming home to roost never made me sad. It only made me glad." Even Harvard has the tact not to name a room after their traitors.
Moreover, there's no justifiable link between Columbia and Little to warrant a posthumous honor. Well, scratch that: a Columbia URL reveals, "X was killed in 1965 in the Audubon Ballroom in Harlem, now a Columbia biotech research building." Sorry, but living in the general vicinity of Columbia does not justify even the most trivial form of recognition, especially for Little, a militant lunatic.
To finally answer why, we must then turn to the Black Student Organization's Web site. "The History of the Malcolm X Lounge" reads, "[In the 1970s] a group of black students occupied the ROTC lounge on the first floor of Hartley Hall the aforementioned issues [empowerment and self-determination] as well as questions of land and territory were definitely on their minds. The group of students renamed the liberated lounge the Malcolm X Lounge. The naming was done in the honor of one of the most important revolutionaries of the twentieth century."
Amazingly, when you think it impossible for an explanation to get worse, it inexplicably does. The administration had, and continues to this day, recognized and honored a violent, illegal act against students serving their nation with something even as small and subtle as the dedication of a room. Note how the room was "liberated," not "stormed and forcefully held." We could, of course, change it back to the ROTC lounge... Oh, wait, they've been banned from campus--I see the radical '70s are still alive and kicking at Columbia. Well, should we replace Malcolm Little, clearly not deserving of such a room, who could take his place? I suggest Whittaker Chambers, a personal favorite Columbian and Communist extraordinaire.
As expected, a search of the Columbia Web page reveals 1,549 hits for "Malcolm X" and a mere 20 for "Whittaker Chambers." Chambers, however, had at least attended Columbia in 1921, where (see how things don't change) he discovered the Communist Party. For roughly 16 years, until 1937, when he began, "like Lazarus, the impossible return," Chambers was a leading Communist spy. In the end, however, he found God and quickly realized the incompatibility between "God or Man, Soul or Mind, Freedom or Communism." Chambers risked life and limb to break with the Party and ultimately serve as the key witness in the Alger Hiss trial. His manuscript, Witness, and its introduction, "A letter to my children," became some of the world's most well-read and influential anti-communist texts. Not a traditional conservative, Chambers was nonetheless instrumental in shaping the beliefs of generations of Americans intent on winning the Cold War and liberating the enslaved masses of the USSR.
A modern-day David? He just might be, but a black "revolutionary" Chambers is not. I sincerely doubt that there will be any efforts taken to give this man the honor he, unlike Little, deserves.
Chris Kulawik is a Columbia College sophomore. Chris Shrugged runs alternate Wednesdays.