Speaking out about Princeton's guest lecturers

An article in Philadelphia's City Paper last year asked the following rhetorical questions. Would you invite Enron's Kenneth Lay to talk about corporate ethics? No. How about Yugoslav dictator Slobodan Milosevic to speak on human rights? Not a chance. Why then, the authors wanted to know, was the Wharton School inviting Domingo Cavallo to speak on the economic situation in Argentina? And why, might I add, is Princeton inviting him to speak here next Wednesday?

A bit of background: In 2001-2002 Argentina suffered one of its worst economic crises ever (this is saying a lot), which plunged millions of people into poverty. In some parts of the country the crisis actually led to starvation, a sad turn of events for a nation that once enjoyed a standard of living greater than that of Western Europe. A major cause of the collapse was a misguided policy developed by Domingo Cavallo, then Economy Minister, which kept the Argentine currency fixed one-to-one to the dollar. This policy was fine until the government did not have enough reserves to maintain the inflated exchange rate, at which point the Argentine peso lost more than two-thirds of its value, erasing people's life savings overnight.

Still, that someone was very bad at his job should not disqualify him from speaking at Princeton. Even though it is unlikely that Mr. Cavallo will focus on "lessons learned" — he continues to advocate his "convertibility" policy even in light of its disastrous history — it would certainly be interesting to hear an account of recent Argentine economic history from such a central figure (just as it would quite informative to hear Saddam Hussein's take on political liberty in Iraq).

Furthermore, Princeton has an intellectual responsibility to invite controversial speakers in order to foster a vibrant exchange of ideas. It would be wrong to deny Mr. Cavallo an opportunity speak simply because we disagree with his views or oppose his policies.

But there is more to the story. Mr. Cavallo is not merely a bad policymaker; he is an authoritarian and an alleged criminal. In 1982 he served as director of the Argentine central bank under the most recent military dictatorship, a ruthless regime that "disappeared" 30,000 of its own citizens. More recently, Mr. Cavallo was jailed for three months in 2002 for allegedly smuggling arms to Peru and Croatia while he was Economy Minister during the 1990s. The case remains open.

The problem with Mr. Cavallo, then, is not what he believes or what he advocates, but rather what he has done. Here Princeton's responsibilities change. As an academic community we have a responsibility to engage polemic views, but have no obligation to give a podium to former totalitarians and alleged arms smugglers. Indeed, we have a moral responsibility not to.

Lectures like the one next week give a false sense of legitimacy to a man whose actions should have earned him time behind bars, not lecture tours or prestigious professorships at elite North American universities (he has taught at NYU and Harvard, to their discredit). Mr. Cavallo uses opportunities like these to try to escape the social opprobrium (and possible criminal investigations) that await him in Argentina, where he is widely despised. He can get away with it because few North Americans know of his shady past. Ignorance, however, does not make next week's lecture morally acceptable. As an educational institution Princeton should inform the community about the dubious character of the man who takes refuge in our midst, not embrace him. The University tarnishes itself by associating with Mr. Cavallo.

Fortunately, Mr. Cavallo's most recent stay in the United States has shown him that even here he cannot erase his past. Argentine expatriates and their supporters regularly picket Mr. Cavallo's lectures, and I do not expect next week's event to be an exception. This is the ironic flipside of the rapacious globalization that Mr. Cavallo advocated as Economy Minister. Alongside traditional exports of grain and beef, Argentina now sends us escraches and cacerolazos, two distinctly Argentine forms of protest that Princeton may be treated to next week. Let us hope that even if the University insists on bringing Mr. Cavallo here to speak, public outcry will erase any shred of legitimacy the lecture casts in his direction.