Disagreement Is Not Disqualification
An outsider’s perspective on the Sundial and Columbia Political Review anonymity debate
Just over two weeks ago, perhaps for the first time in recent memory, we witnessed two student-run publications—the Columbia Political Review (CPR) and Sundial—publicly debate over the issue of publishing anonymous articles. Much of the interaction concentrated on defending their respective sides from an alleged mischaracterization of journalistic values. Both have rather provocative titles, yet far more reasonable content. The first piece was a response to Sundial’s November-December letter from the editor by CPR Editor-in-Chief Adam Kinder, titled “A Letter to Sundial: Columbia Doesn’t Need Your Moderation.” The next day, Sundial responded with a headline mirroring the CPR piece: “A Letter to CPR: Your Distortion of Our Values Rings Hollow.”
I would like to problematize this exchange. I hope readers do not view this situation as merely a spectacle of political drama between campus publications. Rather, I implore our community to view this exchange as a genuine dialogue based on two internally consistent, yet mutually exclusive, premises.
CPR and Sundial’s exchange epitomizes a centuries-long debate on the question of journalistic anonymity. Therefore, I write this article to remind our community that, despite the heated exchange, disagreement is not a disqualification of each publication’s validity.
There is, of course, an obvious solution. Writers could simply submit to the publication that best fits their needs. In this case, if one desires anonymous publication, they could submit to CPR or other pro-anonymity outlets. If they are unwilling or unable to do so, they should either opt for non-anonymity or refrain from submitting the piece. Indeed, this is the argument that Nagin and Chaudhry made in their response to Kinder’s piece. It seems, then, that where articles are published is a matter of personal preference.
Indeed, both publications agree that, though they are both pro-free speech, they serve different purposes. CPR considers itself a place for “multipartisan political discourse” and “an open forum” that not only cares about local but also international issues. Sundial, on the other hand, considers itself the “Independent Voice of Columbia University” that has a unique emphasis on “a writer’s individual story.” In their response to Kinder, Nagin and Chaudhry point out this distinction explicitly: CPR is a political journal, while the Sundial is a magazine of “criticism and commentary,” where writers must write “as themselves.” These explicit definitions alone should have settled the debate.
While one could reduce this issue to a matter of personal preference, it is worth investigating both publications’ reasoning. The issue is not a black-and-white dichotomy between Sundial, which states that context matters, and CPR, which states that ideas matter. More likely, both publications would agree that both context and ideas matter. The disagreement, then, is whether anonymity strips the context of journalism so much that it should be considered unacceptable.
The implicit logic of CPR is that the story should stand on its own, even if there is no name to attribute to it. Knowing a text is written by a famous abolitionist, say Frederick Douglass, aids our understanding, but the argument against slavery should remain valid even if we don’t know the author’s name.
To use Kinder’s example, knowing the author behind both Common Sense and the Communist Manifesto aids our understanding. But these are also influential materials on their own. This logic is sound. My expectation for the article you’re reading now is that if I changed the name of the author from “Eric” to “Sam,” the text could still be personal and nuanced, even though the reader attributes it to “Sam” instead of me.
Sundial, in response to this logic, refers to its own primary goal: “to foster a publication culture that forces our writers to weigh their arguments carefully.” Sundial explicitly stated in their original letter that permitting anonymity “would create a discourse that is dominated by self-isolated ideas bumping into other self-isolated ideas. And, even more insidiously, the reduction of people into ideas without ownership.”
The logic is simple: Sundial aims to highlight the “vulnerability” from personal touch, and to produce “a campus culture that can productively disagree while being respectful.” Sundial would no longer be Sundial if we realized that when reading a piece, we are not reading the thoughts of “Eric Li,” but an unknown student by the name of “Anonymous.”
The only victims here are those writers who meet every Sundial criterion (quality and style) but cannot or will not publish at CPR.
Sundial needs to accept two realities that challenge its argument. The first is that objectively good pieces go unpublished. The second is that if articles are published with a real name, writers could suffer negative consequences. Given the abysmal free speech rankings of Columbia and Barnard, it is easy to imagine a conservative afraid of being “cancelled” or berated by a liberal peer, or a liberal fearing repercussions from the current administration. Sundial cannot simultaneously hold that free speech is worsening and state that its writers are “safe” to express their views. They must acknowledge that writers are responsible for the risks.
Granted, Sundial did mention its mechanism for protecting its authors in its response: They accommodate writers who wish to remain anonymous by publishing them in print only, making a compromise between anti-anonymity and author protection. But this is a mitigation technique. Fundamentally, Sundial is compelling the author to make a tradeoff.
However, even if one disagrees with the specific points made by Nagin and Chaudhry, it’s important to recognize that attaching names to articles is a general practice in journalism. The New York Times serves as a good example. It does publish anonymously, but only rarely. “Our first step in evaluating any submission is to look at the background of the writer and the quality and significance of the piece itself. But we do also take into consideration a writer’s motives as part of the vetting process.” The Columbia Journalism Review has discussed this practice in more detail. The idea is that an opinion given by a student association president (whether from a professional or personal position), a member of the Morningside Heights community, or an international student carries weight that is intrinsically related to their identity.
Kinder’s own letter is an excellent example of this. If the letter was anonymous and we did not know he was the Editor-in-Chief of CPR, the reception of the piece would have been much different. Writers should be encouraged to incorporate their backgrounds—The question is whether it’s worth it. I believe that both CPR and Sundial neglect to consider that this is up to the writer’s discretion.
Anonymity, then, is the intended result of a system designed to prioritize safety over values. It protects the selfish writer just as much as the virtuous one. It guarantees that even if we lose the value of the byline, we protect the author’s safety. However, I can’t help but question what incentive a Columbia student, whose time is of value, could have to write subpar or troll articles and submit them anonymously for no tangible benefit. My hope is that all submissions, anonymous or not, are written in good faith. Otherwise, if the rigor of Columbia’s academic life is not enough to deter the trolls, they have better publications to submit to—we literally have the Federalist dedicated to that.
Secondly, anti-anonymity should not be the universal principle. For instance, applying this reasoning broadly would imply that the use of pseudonyms is detrimental to qualitative academic studies—meaning 90 percent of Columbia’s psychological, sociological, and social science departments would have to shut down. However, this is an issue of individual journal submission requirements, not research ethics. I believe it is necessary to identify these as two distinct issues. Personally, I am pro-anonymity in both instances, but I believe Nagin and Chaudhry did not contend that one should be anti-anonymity on all fronts. They are defending their policies at Sundial, which they have the right to do.
I do not believe that Nagin and Chaudhry explicitly argue that anonymous submissions are of poor and irresponsible quality. But if that is indeed the case, that argument is clearly wrong. Anonymity certainly doesn’t guarantee publication, given that almost all publications have a selection process in place. It would be difficult to envision CPR publishing an article similar to that of the Harvard Salient, with or without anonymity.
Kinder’s main argument against Sundial revolves around Nagin and Chaudhry’s contention that “As a free speech publication, anonymity sets a regressive precedent that hinders the open exchange of ideas.” I understand how some readers, including Kinder himself, could interpret those sentences as an implicit criticism of CPR, which has recently started to accept anonymous submissions. However, I caution readers against this slippery slope: Sundial’s explanation for rejecting anonymous submissions does not necessarily mean they are criticizing publications that accept them.
Personally, I support CPR’s decision to accept anonymous submissions. However, I’m skeptical that this policy has made CPR’s pages more ideologically diverse.
Pieces submitted anonymously are not the norm but the exception, which leads me to question how effective the practice of anonymity actually is in diversifying a publication’s pages. I think it is powerful not because of its substantive impact, but because it takes an explicit stance. In theory, CPR’s policy allows them to publish opinions that could not be expressed elsewhere. However, CPR’s own selection criteria remain in place. CPR states that “there are limits to what ‘free speech’ actually means.” Yet if we also grant that “Any true commitment to free speech demands that we reckon with radical ideas, regardless of who they come from,” the question becomes what distinguishes an acceptable radical idea from an unacceptable one. This distinction is at the sole discretion of the CPR editorial board. Thus, while I believe that anonymity can protect writers, I am not convinced that it diversifies the journal.
CPR’s gatekeeping is not necessarily undesirable. However, consider the following, rather comical thought experiment. If a well-argued article were to take a position opposed to the views of the CPR editorial board, would CPR publish it? Kinder’s letter argues that it is “literally the editor’s job is to make sure that an idea not worthy of publication is not published. That alone is a moderating force, and to make the threshold for rejection any closer is a partisan choice masquerading as principle.” Where is the line drawn between a “moderating force” and a “partisan choice”? Would an editor who is anti-Trump reject a pro-Trump submission, or vice versa? If CPR is truly neutral, then the claim that their anonymity policy increases viewpoint “diversity” is marginal, evidenced by the fact the majority of articles on CPR’s own website are published with bylines.
To be fair, I do not see how Sundial, or really any publication, could solve this problem. Distrust in “impartiality” is a universal phenomenon, and in many instances, justified. This is a simple reality that needs to be more explicitly acknowledged. Filtering occurs during the selection process for both journals, regardless of whether the submissions are anonymous. Independently, then, it is also difficult to discern how Sundial is less radical than CPR with or without anonymity.
I view this somewhat heated exchange as a necessary intellectual discussion that has not yet occurred. I do not see it as CPR framing Sundial as elites who can afford to burn bridges, nor as Sundial framing CPR as lacking integrity. I believe that, as stated in the very beginning, both editorial standards are internally consistent. While CPR is uncharitable to Sundial by implying that its editorial standard is a form of political persecution, I do not necessarily think it is a “distortion,” as Nagin and Chaudhry claim. While CPR might have mischaracterized Sundial’s intent, it does not mischaracterize the consequences.
I do agree with Nagin and Chaudhry when they state that respecting each other’s standards is more desirable than trying to convince the other side that they are better. My main concern, which has not been sufficiently addressed, is that we even need to debate the use of anonymity so intensely on an American college campus in 2025. Sundial’s policy may be more desirable in an ideal world, one that we do not currently live in.
For instance, in response to a New York Times anonymous editorial piece, President Trump stated that “If the GUTLESS anonymous person does indeed exist, the Times must, for National Security purposes, turn him/her over to government at once!” This, I have to remind the reader, happened in 2018—an arguably less polarizing year than 2025. The writer was protected from the federal government’s attacks because of anonymity. Nagin and Chaudhry do not adequately consider how the policies they are advocating for clash with the realities of the past decade or so, to say the least.
I hope readers see this article as a necessary digression, one meant to reset the conversation. The simplest solution I can offer as an outsider is this: Read both publications, and consider submitting to both. Whether anonymously through CPR or with your name attached through Sundial, participate in this unique moment in our University’s history.
Mr. Li is a sophomore at Columbia College studying history, economics, and political science. He is a guest contributor for Sundial.
The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Sundial editorial board as a whole or any other members of the staff.