What’s wrong with a good, old-fashioned book burning? (Part II)

The book purge at the United States Naval Academy

In Part I of this post, I assert that the US Naval Academy's status as an academic powerhouse is no accident. Academic excellence is essential to USNA's mission: developing Midshipmen "morally, mentally, and physically" for service as officers in the United States Navy and Marine Corps. A necessary condition for preserving its prominence is a full-throated commitment to academic freedom, the right of USNA scholars – professors and students – to explore ideas and express opinions without undue intrusions from the institution or the government. As I argue in Part I, Defense Secretary Hegseth's order to remove 381 books from the shelves of Nimitz Library for political reasons is an egregious rejection of this cherished ideal.

In Part II, I examine and critique the decision to comply with Secretary Hegseth's order.

Prudence, Legality, Morality

Given their martial trappings, it's ironic that America's service academies are far less capable of pushing back against government intrusion than civilian colleges and universities. Unlike the presidents of Columbia, Harvard, or Ohio State, the Superintendent of the Naval Academy (the service academy equivalent of a college president) doesn't answer solely to a board of trustees. He or she is bound by oath to "support and defend" our Constitution. Article II Section 2 of that hallowed document establishes the president as commander-in-chief of the military. In other words, Admiral Davids, the 65th Superintendent of the Naval Academy, ultimately reports to Donald Trump, the 47th President of the United States. "The prez" is "the supe's" boss.

That oath serves as an ethical North Star for officers in the US military, one constant in a morally complex and politically tumultuous universe. There is, therefore, a strong and necessary bias toward obeying orders from above (and expecting obedience from below) according to a constitutionally ordained chain of command. The bias toward obeying orders from the civilians sitting atop that chain of command – the President and Secretary of Defense – is especially strong. America's survival as a democratic republic depends on our unequivocal commitment to the ideal of civilian control of the military.

However, as any newly commissioned officer can attest, the bias toward obedience is not an absolute edict. Not all orders are created equal; they vary along three axes: prudence, legality, and morality. Naval Academy Youngsters (sophomores) learn that naval officers should challenge imprudent orders if time permits but then salute and enthusiastically carry them out if the boss insists. Officers should also challenge unlawful orders, time permitting. However, unlike orders that are merely imprudent, palpably illegal orders must be disobeyed, regardless of the circumstances or the seniority of the person issuing the order. Indeed, failure to disobey an unlawful order is itself unlawful.

The most complex combination is an order that, while legal, is immoral. A common example is an order that would cause unnecessary human suffering. A specific example is the case of Army Warrant Officer Hugh Thompson, a helicopter pilot during the Vietnam War. When Thompson observed what appeared to be American troops firing on Vietnamese civilians, he disobeyed orders to "return to base" and set his helo down between the Vietnamese villagers and an advancing platoon of US soldiers led by Lieutenant William Calley. Hundreds of Vietnamese noncombatants were killed during what became known as the My Lai Massacre, but hundreds more were saved because Thompson disobeyed a lawful but immoral order.

Midshipmen study the Hugh Thompson case. The learning objective is for the Mids to understand that doing the right thing could potentially require them to disobey a lawful order. However, they also learn that disobeying lawful orders, even if they're clearly immoral, is risky. Assessing the morality of an action is typically more challenging than determining its legality; morality is inherently less precise than black letter law. Officers who disobey lawful but immoral orders may earn praise. Alternatively, they may face dismissal, criminal procedures, or even jail time.

Analysis and Critique

How does Secretary Hegseth's book purge measure up against these three criteria?

Regarding its prudence, Hegseth's order earns low marks. It insults large swaths of the USNA community by implying that the offending books – mostly by or about people of color, women, non-Christians, or LGBTQ people – are somehow dangerous. It infantilizes the Midshipmen (adults all) by suggesting they're incapable of critically evaluating novel ideas without becoming indoctrinated by them. It risks a flight of talent as professors who rightly reject constraints on academic freedom seek positions better insulated from government influence. Over time, the brain-drain, and the associated challenge of attracting new scholars, will erode the quality and prestige of a Naval Academy education and, consequently, the quality of prospective students it attracts. A bottom-up erosion of the quality of America's officer corps is inevitable.

For the presidents of MIT, Princeton, or UCLA, prudential considerations alone are sufficient grounds to kill bad ideas. For the Superintendent of the Naval Academy, however, defying an order solely because of its monumental stupidity would be unlawful. The Superintendent can disobey Hegseth's order and keep faith with her oath (and stay on the right side of the law) only by making a case that the order is palpably illegal or immoral.

The legal basis for Secretary Hegseth's order is President Trump's executive order titled "Ending Racial Indoctrination in K-12 Schooling," which the Trump administration specifically extended to include the military academies. Executive orders function as law within the executive branch; they can mandate action by federal agencies (like the service academies) and are enforceable by the courts. Executive orders cannot, however, conflict with existing laws. In a 4 April letter to the Army, Navy, and Air Force Secretaries, Democratic Representatives Adam Smith and Chrissy Houlahan criticized USNA's book purge as a "blatant attack on the First Amendment." That seems right to me. Viewpoint discrimination – government interference with public discourse by censoring one side of the argument – is prohibited under the First Amendment. I hope a party that can demonstrate standing in the courts comes forward to challenge the constitutionality of this McCarthy-esque executive order. However, until the executive order is overturned by the courts, by Congress, or by a future president, the Navy and Naval Academy have no choice but to treat Secretary Hegseth's order as lawful. (I'd be most grateful if a reader with a law degree would challenge this conclusion.)

That leaves us with ethics. Does compliance with SECDEF's order require the Naval Academy to do something immoral?

In short, yes. Promise-breaking is an archetypically immoral act (Kant employs "lying promises" to prove his categorical imperative). The Naval Academy is breaking a promise to its faculty and students by complying with Hegseth's order. USNA has long pulicized its commitment to the norms of open academic inquiry. For example, its Faculty Handbook and past accreditation reports claim that USNA civilian faculty enjoy the same academic freedom protections observed at civilian institutions. The Nimitz Library website is even more explicit:

“Intellectual and academic freedom have been cornerstones of academic thought and rigor for over a century in higher education in the United States. The Nimitz Library is dedicated to these core principles of building knowledge in its acquisition, promotion, and retention of scholarly materials. Thus, the librarians actively acquire resources from content creators that encompass the full spectrum of voices and perspectives available.”

Without assurances that the Naval Academy embraces academic freedom just as enthusiastically as any civilian college or university, many top candidates – prospective faculty and students alike – would have accepted offers elsewhere. USNA's diligent compliance with SECDEF's assault on academic freedom reveals that its assurances were hollow promises, principles to be jettisoned when honoring them became hard.

Some may argue (though I would not) that removing 381 books from a collection that includes hundreds of thousands of titles is hardly an infringement on academic freedom. Admiral James Stavridis, former Supreme Allied Commander Europe, dean of the Fletcher School at Tufts, and Naval Academy grad, cautions against underestimating the dangers. "Book banning can be a canary in a coal mine," he told a New York Times reporter. It "could predict a stifling of free speech and thought." Indeed, it could. A week after NYT ran Admiral Stavridis' warning, Naval Academy officials canceled a scheduled lecture after the speaker, Ryan Holiday, refused to refrain from addressing the book purge. Stavridis' canary didn't last long.

Sound moral reasoning, as taught at the Naval Academy, must also account for the consequences of a prospective action. Generally following the utilitarian tradition, Midshipmen learn that the morally right thing to do is the action that introduces the most "net good" (or least net harm) into the world.

When considering the prospect of disobeying Secretary Hegseth's book purge order, the "harms" side of the ledger is chilling. For starters, the acting Chief of Naval Operations (the former CNO was recently fired, ostensibly for her commitment to DEI) and the Superintendent would have been fired straight away. While this detail wouldn't have influenced either officer – both are pillars of honor and integrity who are entirely motivated by the interests of the Naval Academy, the Navy and Marine Corps, and the nation – it would certainly have influenced the loyal staff advising them.

The primary harm that likely deterred the CNO and Superintendent from taking a principled stand was the prospect of a vindictive administration effectively dismantling the US Naval Academy as we know it. Harvard's situation illustrates the lengths to which the Trump administration will go to punish any institution that openly defies it. But because Harvard is a private and extremely well-endowed institution, it seems likely that it will weather the attack. By contrast, the federally funded Naval Academy has no private sector breakwater to protect it from executive branch retribution. Through mass firings and ideologically based hiring, the administration could transform one of the world's premier institutions of higher learning into little more than a trade school. Given this dire prospect, it's reasonable for anyone to conclude that the net harm resulting from defiance of SECDEF's order would overwhelm any good that might result.

That conclusion, however, relies on the assumption that sacrificing 381 books will satiate the administration's interest in the US Naval Academy. This assumption ignores Columbia's experience with appeasement. Columbia's good-faith concessions have thus far only inspired new demands while restoring none of its funding. Both Columbia and USNA may be guilty of underestimating the scope and scale of the Trump administration's ambitions vis-à-vis higher education. The administration has signaled through Project 2025, comments from senior administration officials, and threats from the president himself that the administration intends to fundamentally dismantle the culture of higher ed, seize sovereignty from the "Marxist maniacs" and "leftist lunatics" who currently dominate academia, and ultimately enlist America's colleges and universities in the service of promoting conservative values. In short, the book removal order is likely only the beginning, not the end, of government intrusion on academic freedom at the service academies. When you pay protection money, it's never "one and done."

What about the good outcomes that would have resulted from a joint letter from the CNO and the Superintendent of the Naval Academy advising SECDEF that they cannot in good conscience carry out this imprudent, potentially illegal, and definitely immoral order? The signal of confidence in and respect for the Brigade of Midshipmen – especially those of color, women, and LGBTQ orientation – would have profoundly and positively influenced these future leaders for decades. It would have confirmed for the professors and students who accepted offers from the Naval Academy – while turning down offers from Brown, Cal Poly, and Texas – that USNA's commitment to academic freedom was genuine, not an empty promise. Finally, defying SECDEF's repugnant order would have resulted in headlines featuring Harvard and the US Naval Academy as guardians of academic freedom in America.

What was the right thing to do?

So, what should the Navy and the Naval Academy have done? Anyone who maintains that the answer to this question is obvious either doesn't understand the essential importance of academic freedom to the growth of human knowledge or doesn't comprehend the burden of military command. Both options are defensible, and both are costly. Nevertheless, a decision must be made.

As I drafted this essay, I tried to put myself in the boots of the Colonels and Captains who were, no doubt, consulted. How would I have advised the CNO or the Superintendent of the Naval Academy if I were on his/her staff? Never in my career have I recommended a course of action that would foreseeably end a flag officer's career. This occasion, therefore, would have been a first. After examining the prudence, legality, and morality of Secretary Hegseth's orders, considering my duties to USNA students and faculty, and weighing the grave harms and substantial goods that would result from either action, I would have recommended disobedience. If, indeed, taking a stand for academic freedom at the service academies meant sacrificing remarkable military and academic careers, this would have been a righteous hill to die on.

Continuing with my thought experiment, if the CNO or Superintendent responded, "Thank you for your input, Captain Herbert, but that's not what we're going to do," I would have fully understood. It's the essence of a moral dilemma that a legitimate case can be made for and against both actions. I would, however, have reminded the admiral that we will likely get another chance to take a principled stand, or not, for academic freedom. Extortionists always come back for more.

Photo credit: Robert J. Baldock