In a series of essays this year, New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof has argued that liberals in academia—people like me—are intolerant of, and politically biased against, conservatives on campus. “Universities are the bedrock of progressive values, but the one kind of diversity that universities disregard is ideological and religious,” he wrote in “A Confession of Liberal Intolerance,” in May. “We’re fine with people who don’t look like us, as long as they think like us.” Later that month, in “The Liberal Blind Spot,” he took on critics of his earlier piece, writing, “Frankly, the torrent of scorn for conservative closed-mindedness confirmed my view that we on the left can be pretty closed-minded ourselves.” And this month, apropos of campus reactions to Donald Trump’s victory, Kristof warned his massive progressive audience about “The Dangers of Echo Chambers on Campus”:

We liberals are adept at pointing out the hypocrisies of Trump, but we should also address our own hypocrisy in terrain we govern, such as most universities: Too often, we embrace diversity of all kinds except for ideological…. We want to be inclusive of people who don’t look like us—so long as they think like us.

There are plenty of legitimate critiques of campus politics, and there’s certainly room for more ideological diversity on campus. But Kristof’s recurring argument has glaring, and potentially damaging, flaws. He has an untenably narrow view of campus life and politics, and worse, he reinforces the hyperbolic view of colleges and universities that the right uses to undermine the credibility of people speaking from academic and pedagogical expertise. By pretending to look inward at the flaws of progressivism, but in practice externalizing blame for the left’s failures by scapegoating academia, Kristof’s confessionals contribute to the enduring strain of anti-intellectualism in American politics.

Like so many on the right—and some on the left, like New York magazine’s Jonathan Chait—Kristof generalizes about liberal intolerance on campus and cites extreme examples, such as Oberlin students’ protest of a local bakery accused (wrongly, it seems) of racial profiling. But as CUNY professor and campus activism historian Angus Johnston points out, “Kristof is focusing on a tiny number of unrepresentative colleges. The typical American college student today—the typical American student activist today—doesn’t attend a tiny, insular liberal arts college. The median American college student attends a public college, never lived in a dorm, isn’t studying liberal arts.” Of the 20.5 million students projected to enroll in college this past fall, 7.2 million were in two-year colleges. Private colleges—to say nothing of elite ones like Oberlin—enroll about 3.4 million students in total.

Even at elite liberal arts colleges, there’s a lot more dialogue between liberals and conservatives than critics suggest. “After Donald Trump’s election, some universities echoed with primal howls,” Kristof wrote, in a pitch-perfect impersonation of National Review. “Faculty members canceled classes for weeping, terrified students who asked: How could this possibly be happening?” Kristof’s point was that liberals on campus had sheltered themselves from the real world, but this was not the case at Colby College, where I teach. I know a lot of our students and faculty were upset, but I didn’t witness students weeping in despair about the impending Trump presidency, or looking to censor views they don’t share. Yes, some professors canceled classes. But most didn’t. I taught my classes as usual and left my office door open for students looking to talk politics—of any persuasion. Like my colleagues, I wasn’t concerned only for students fearful of Trump, but also those who supported him and might now feel embattled. Indeed, in the weeks following the election, what little I had to say about it in class came with an explicit affirmation of my respect for all of our students, and my openness to political discussion of any kind. When students asked for my thoughts, I was honest, but I also made clear that, like them, I’m a political being with my own positions and values, and I don’t expect everyone to agree with me.

Beyond the classroom, a campus-wide conversation was also taking place. A week after the election, faculty members and students from the College Republicans and College Democrats held a panel to consider the implications of the Trump presidency. Then progressive students began organizing a walkout and march in solidarity with those marginalized by Trump. Students had discussed their plans with the administration, faculty, and other students, and a bipartisan debate ensued about whether a walkout was the best way to protest, and what the protest would mean to different college groups and constituencies. When the march finally took place, students with pro-Trump apparel mingled with the protesters—and did so maturely, without incident, which can’t always be said for political protests in the “real world.”