Free speech is fragile, and if we don’t defend it—on campus, on the golf course, and everywhere else—it will disappear.
Last Tuesday at The Players Championship, Texas golfer Luke Potter called Rory McIlroy a “choke artist.” McIlroy responded not with words but by taking Potter’s phone—an act that qualifies as theft by any legal definition. Instead of holding McIlroy accountable, the golf media rushed to his defense and, in doing so, took a shit on property rights and free speech.
Rory and “The Phone Incident” (photo, Irish Star)
Meanwhile, a different—but equally troubling—battle over free expression rages on in higher education. Professors who once had the freedom to challenge authority under the protection of tenure now find themselves at the mercy of administrators who bow to public pressure, donor influence, and government intervention. The erosion of tenure is just one front in a broader war on dissent, which extends far beyond campus walls and into every facet of public life—including professional golf.
What do these two incidents—one involving a college golfer, the other involving the erosion of academic freedom—have in common? Both expose the growing hostility toward free speech in American institutions, where protecting the consequential matters more than defending the truth.
McIlroy’s reaction to criticism was more than just petulant—it was a case study of how the powerful silence those beneath them. If McIlroy had a problem with being called a choke artist, he could have responded with words or, better yet, by proving Potter wrong. Instead, he acted like a feudal lord dispensing justice on his terms, confident that the PGA Tour and its media lapdogs would spin the story in his favor.
And spin, they did. The coverage framed Potter as disrespectful as if questioning an athlete’s performance—an objectively verifiable fact—were some moral failing. This wasn’t just about protecting McIlroy’s ego but maintaining control over the sport’s narrative. The PGA Tour operates like a country club dictatorship, where players and fans are expected to applaud politely and keep their criticisms to themselves. The moment someone steps out of line, the Tour—and its media enforcers—step in to shut them down.
This is the same playbook universities have used for years: manufacture outrage, shift the conversation away from the real issue, and make an example out of the dissenter.
Higher education was once a sanctuary for free expression, where the best ideas were tested without ego or politics and then thoroughly debated. That is no longer the case. The corporatization of universities has turned them into risk-averse bureaucracies more concerned with the quality of the dorms or food than upholding academic freedom.
Tenure, once the last line of defense for scholars who challenged authority, is being dismantled piece by piece. Meanwhile, university administrators, protected by the doctrine of qualified immunity, can silence dissent without consequence. If a professor voices an unpopular opinion, they can be dismissed under the guise of “institutional values.” If an administrator tramples on constitutional rights, they walk away unscathed.
This one-sided fight has turned universities into controlled environments where only the safest, most institutionally approved ideas can flourish. And just like the PGA Tour, academia is more concerned with protecting the powerful than defending the principle of free speech.
Free speech is not just a legal concept; it is the foundation of a democratic society. The Supreme Court has repeatedly ruled that the First Amendment protects even offensive or controversial speech. In New York Times Co. v. Sullivan, the Court established that public figures—politicians, professors, or professional golfers—must tolerate criticism, even when it is harsh.
This principle is under attack. The PGA Tour’s crackdown on dissent mirrors the censorship creeping through American universities, boardrooms, and media outlets. When those in power—be they athletes, administrators, or billionaires—can silence criticism at will, democracy suffers. The common thread between Rory McIlroy’s overreaction and the erosion of academic free speech is control—those in power dictating what can and cannot be said.
Suppose we allow this to continue and accept a world where only “approved” speech is tolerated. In that case, we will wake up in a society where debate is dead, criticism is a crime, and the truth is whatever the most influential people say.
Luke Potter may never get an apology from Rory McIlroy; just as silenced professors may never get their voices back. But their experiences serve as a warning: free speech is fragile, and if we don’t defend it on campus, on the golf course, and everywhere else—it will disappear.
