When the axe of censorship falls upon a college campus, it generally deals the deathblow to a vital means of free expression. Student opinion, though aroused, is often helpless in the face of absolute University rule, and a crusade for academic freedom tends to be waged within the confines of a paper bag.

In two separate instances, one involving a minor incident, the other a standing educational policy, the charges of censorship and applied pressure have been leveled against New York educational policy makers. In the first case, a co-editor of the Long Island University newspaper was forced to resign because of that paper's "damaging" editorial policies, which the faculty found offensive to its taste.

Three weks ago John Tlumak initiated a new policy which called for semi-weekly publication of the regular weekly campus newspaper, The Seawanhaka. Tlumak's purpose for increasing publication, he said, was "to better inform the student body of campus activities," but the faculty objected to the new policy and the editorial board was told to revert to its old weekly policy.

The LIU paper followed with an editorial suggesting that the administration's reasons and its policy toward the student newspaper be brought out in the open. The provost, Admiral Richard E. Conolly, replied that the editorial was "damaging to the faculty and in bad taste." Tlumak received a letter from the Administration asking for his resignation "to avoid further occurrences," and he complied. Tlumak resigned, he said, "to prevent any faculty or administration from censoring material published in the newspaper."

News censorship, such as that which occured at LIU, is not the only form of restrictive action taken against the free expression of student opinion. The second instance of restraint involves the broader issue of casting a blanket of silence around controversial speakers, by not allowing them to appear on college campuses. Such was the action taken by the Administrative Council of the Board of Higher Education of New York to prohibit persons convicted under the Smith Act from speaking at the city colleges.

When John Gates, former editor of the Daily Worker, was asked to speak at Queens College last year, the Administrative Council banned him from the campus. This decree of silence was prompted partially by public pressure, and partially by a few independent and outspoken Council members with muddled views about communism and the new radical generation.

The National Student Association has advanced the worthy propositions that "the student press should be free from all types of direct or indirect financial pressure, reprisal or threat thereof from student government groups, university or college faculty, or administrative authorities..." and that the press be free "to present articles concerning controversial matters and to comments freely providing a forum for free expression."

But, in spite of spontaneous student protests, and long-range concentrated efforts to bring a wider and healthier atmosphere of conflict and controversy to college campuses, the students invariably emerge on the short end. Censorship, restriction, and pressure are harsh words, and when they are applied to institutions of higher learning, they strike at the real meaning of education, a meaning that those too long separated from the search for knowledge have forgotten.