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With the brutal assassination of Charlie Kirk on September 10, conservative college students lost a figurehead in their movement. He was, in many ways, the paradigm of the modern-day campus conservative figure. Kirk engaged in fiery, provocative debate under a banner that read, “Prove me wrong.” He was also a symbol of how far conservatism has strayed from the of conservative thinkers who once represented the movement’s intellectual foundations.

Once defined by deep philosophical engagement, conservative thought on campus today often centers on spectacle and confrontation — a shift that mirrors the changes in conservative political culture in recent years, with growing hostility towards learning itself. At Harvard, this tension plays out in organizations — openly political and otherwise — that imitate or embody conservatism’s ideals.

Although not purely a provocateur, Kirk’s videos — with titles like “Charlie Kirk VS the Washington State Woke Mob” or “Charlie Kirk Hands Out Huge L’s at University of California San Diego” — showed that the primary aim was to score points in a competitive debate, not serious, informed discussion.

Kirk was by no means alone in this approach; right-wing speakers like Ben Shapiro have adopted a similar style — fast-paced, combative, and designed more for spectacle than serious discourse. The instinctive appeal of this style is evident — these debates hold similar entertainment value to a sporting match. However, there is something shallow about it; scoring viral points might be fun, but, by its nature, it prioritizes entertainment over intellectual depth and mutual discussion.

Yet, at its best, conservatism, particularly in the academy, offers something crucial to academic debate. It reminds us that not everything in our past need be thrown out. While it is true that some ideas may become outmoded or shown to be inaccurate, conservatism can serve as a vital backstop when we are tempted to throw the baby out with the bathwater.

When we think of this intellectual conservatism, figures like Leo Strauss and Roger Scruton come to mind; but, these figures were different from the campus speakers of today. Rather than focusing on handing out “huge L’s” to their opponents, they focused on serious academic study, wrote books on classical philosophy, and brought a unique perspective to academic discourse.

In an era when the American conservative movement has become a hotbed of suspicion and hatred for universities and education, it is no wonder that this older brand of conservative intellectualism has receded from campus life. When the president and de facto leader of the American conservative movement unleashes attack after attack on our universities, the message is clear. As JD Vance underscored in a speech titled “The Universities are the Enemy,” the right’s stance toward academia has grown increasingly antagonistic.

The problem with this mode of engagement is that it reorients the position of the conservative from one of an intellectual foil to a perpetual antagonist to deeper learning. High shock value debate and material attacks on education position the conservative movement as something outside and opposed to the academy.

At Harvard, there are signs that some students long for this older intellectual conservatism. The Salient — which describes itself as “The Harvard Undergraduate Journal of Conservative Thought,” draws heavily from that tradition. It clearly aims to evoke the heritage of intellectual conservatism, drawing on canonical writers, referencing classical Greek philosophy in high regard, and incorporating religious — particularly Christian — thought. With its use of pseudonyms from great thinkers of yore, it adopts the trappings of old-school conservatism.

But, for good reason, the Salient is met with ire when it arrives in dorm room mailboxes each month; as much as it wants to be conservatism at its best, it frequently embodies the worst of the contemporary conservative movement: An article in September’s edition derided the “female mode of learning” as the “lowest common denominator” in coeducation. Another drew, verbatim, on the rhetoric of Nazi ideology claiming that the “fraternity” of nations is “rooted” in “blood” and “soil.”

Even the way it presents itself — a clandestine, nocturnal delivery, shrouded in pseudonyms — resembles more the shock-value-oriented, high-paced debating style of famed conservative speakers than the institutionalist, academic-oriented intellectual conservatism of days past. These qualities overshadow its traditionalist surface.

This, however, should not be surprising. In a national political climate where conservatism has defined itself in opposition to the academy and higher education, it is unclear what role a conservative academic has in the conservative movement.

Critics are quick to blame the state of campus discourse on the lack of ideological diversity among faculty, but the reality of the modern day conservative movement suggests that this is not merely a result of ideological bias: conservatism, by and large, seems to have moved on from the academy.

In today’s political world, is there still room for the intellectual conservatism of days long gone?

At Harvard, the Abigail Adams Institute stands as an interesting counterpoint to the death of conservative intellectualism. While not explicitly conservative, the Institute is home to much of what is good about this tradition: It hosts seminars (this semester, on Plato’s “Symposium”) and weekly discussions “on the Big Questions of life;” its mission is explicitly interdisciplinary and pro-academy. However, that the center is politically neutral, at least officially, is telling insofar as it confirms that there is a discontinuity between American conservatism and the intellectual conservatism that finds its home at AAI.

As long as the American conservative movement defines itself in opposition to the academy, the hope of returning to intellectual conservatism seems far-fetched. It remains to be seen, however, whether reviving a genuine spirit of academic debate, an admiration of great thinkers long-gone, and a commitment to working within the academy may revive what has been lost for now.

Allison P. Farrell ’26, a Crimson Editorial editor, is a Philosophy concentrator in Leverett House.