In the heart of New Orleans, a city renowned for its vibrant culture of expression and debate, Loyola University stands as a beacon of Jesuit education—or so it claims. Yet, in a decision that reeks of ideological censorship, the university’s Student Government Association (SGA) recently voted to deny official recognition to a proposed chapter of Turning Point USA (TPUSA), a conservative student organization.

This move, made just days ago, in mid-October 2025, not only stifles the voices of conservative-leaning students but also exposes Loyola’s profound hypocrisy in championing “inclusive” education while selectively silencing dissent. As a private institution, Loyola may not be legally bound, for now, by the First Amendment, but its failure to uphold the spirit of constitutional freedoms—assembly, free speech, and the marketplace of ideas—demands harsh criticism. Through its refusal, Loyola betrays its own mission, undermines academic diversity, and hoards the privileges of intellectual liberty for only those who align with its progressive leanings.

To understand the gravity of this denial, consider the facts. TPUSA, founded by conservative activist Charlie Kirk, aims to promote free-market principles, limited government, and traditional values on college campuses.

It’s not without controversy—critics accuse it of fostering divisive rhetoric—but that’s precisely the point of a university: to host conversations that challenge assumptions and foster growth.

At Loyola, a group of students sought to charter a chapter to provide a platform for conservative extracurricular activities. They gathered signatures, prepared presentations, and followed the university’s procedures. Yet, during an SGA meeting, student senators voted overwhelmingly to reject the bid, citing ridiculously vague concerns about the organization’s national reputation and potential to disrupt campus harmony. Protests erupted outside the meeting, with leftist opponents labeling TPUSA as “hateful,” This isn’t governance; it’s pure gatekeeping.

Loyola’s defenders might argue that, as a private Jesuit university, it has the right to curate its community. After all, private institutions aren’t state actors, so the Constitution doesn’t compel them to recognize every group. But this technicality is a flimsy shadow shield for moral cowardice. The First Amendment’s protections for freedom of speech and assembly aren’t mere legal obligations—they’re foundational American values that any institution claiming to educate future leaders should emulate.

Freedom of assembly allows individuals to band together for shared purposes, whether political, social, or ideological. By denying TPUSA’s charter, Loyola effectively tells its students: You may think conservative thoughts in private, but don’t dare organize around them publicly. This echoes the very authoritarianism TPUSA critiques, turning a campus meant for enlightenment into a echo chamber.

Moreover, Loyola’s action ignores the broader benefits such groups bring to higher education. Universities thrive on diversity—not just of race or gender, but of thought. A TPUSA chapter would host debates on fiscal policy, immigration, or cultural issues, inviting speakers from across the spectrum. It would counterbalance existing monolithic progressive groups, like those focused on social justice or environmental activism, which Loyola readily supports.

Research from organizations like the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE) consistently shows that campuses with robust viewpoint diversity produce more resilient, critically thinking graduates. At Loyola, where enrollment hovers around 4,500 students, conservative voices are already excessively marginalized.

A 2024 survey by the Heterodox Academy revealed that conservative students at private liberal arts colleges often self-censor, fearing backlash from peers and faculty. By refusing TPUSA, Loyola exacerbates and promotes this chill, signaling that only certain ideologies deserve official sanction. What message does this send to incoming freshmen? That intellectual curiosity is welcome only if it fits the administration’s worldview?

The irony deepens when considering Loyola’s Jesuit heritage. Founded in 1912 by the Society of Jesus, the university prides itself on Ignatian values: seeking truth through discernment, promoting justice, and engaging in dialogue. St. Ignatius Loyola himself emphasized education as a path to understanding God and the world through open inquiry.

Yet, in denying TPUSA, the university contradicts their own principles. Jesuit education is supposed to form “men and women for others,” not ideological conformists. How can students become well-rounded citizens if they’re shielded from conservative perspectives? This isn’t protection; it’s paternalism.

Loyola benefits immensely from its tax-exempt status, federal funding, and societal prestige as a nonprofit educator—privileges granted under the assumption that it serves the public good by fostering free inquiry. But by hoarding these benefits and denying them to conservative students, Loyola indeed acts like a private club, not a public-minded institution. It enjoys the freedoms of assembly and speech in its own advocacy—lobbying for issues like immigration reform or environmental justice—yet withholds fundamental freedoms from its own community.

This isn’t an isolated incident; it’s part of a troubling pattern at private universities nationwide, including in Louisiana. While public institutions must adhere to constitutional standards, private schools like Loyola, Tulane, and Xavier often hide behind autonomy to suppress unpopular views. Just down the street, Tulane is digesting a TPUSA chapter application.  Let’s hope logic rules the day down the avenue.

In Louisiana, where conservative politics dominate statewide but liberal enclaves like New Orleans campuses lean left, this disparity creates intellectual silos. State Republicans have pushed anti-DEI legislation, arguing that diversity initiatives stifle conservative thought, but Loyola’s denial plays right into that narrative.

If private universities won’t voluntarily embrace pluralism, they invite external intervention—laws mandating viewpoint neutrality, as seen in states like California, Florida and Texas. Loyola’s shortsightedness could accelerate such measures, eroding the very autonomy it cherishes.

This decision harms Loyola’s reputation and bottom line. Alumni donors, many of whom hold conservative views, may well reconsider their support.

Loyola’s endowment benefits from a diverse alumni base, yet it seems unwilling to extend that diversity to its current students. This selfishness underscores a deeper failure: misunderstanding that constitutional freedoms aren’t zero-sum. Sharing the right to assemble doesn’t diminish Loyola’s own; it enriches the entire community.

Loyola University New Orleans’ denial of the TPUSA chapter is a blatant assault on the principles of free speech and assembly. It reveals an institution more interested in radical ideological purity than intellectual vitality, hoarding constitutional benefits while denying them to persecuted students.

As a Jesuit university, Loyola should know better—its mission demands better. Students, alumni, and faculty must demand a reversal: Petition the administration, boycott events that exclude diverse voices, and amplify conservative perspectives through informal channels until official recognition is granted. Loyola must be an educator, not a censor. The Constitution may not force private universities to act justly, but history will judge those who fail to balance the scales. Loyola, it’s time to choose freedom over fear. And if not, then there’s always the legislature.