EDITORIAL: Sviggum's continued presence on regents board sends hostile message on diversity

Dec. 24—On Oct. 13, Steve Sviggum asked a question he shouldn't have asked.

The former Minnesota House Speaker from Kenyon is a member of the University of Minnesota Board of Regents. During a meeting that focused on declining enrollment at the University of Minnesota, Morris, campus, Sviggum said he'd received two letters from friends who wrote that their children would not attend Morris "because it is too diverse, let's say, of a campus. They just didn't feel comfortable there."

Simply mentioning those letters was a risky move, but he went one step further, asking, "Is it possible that at Morris we've become too diverse, all from a marketing standpoint?"

Try as we might, we've had no success in figuring out how a college campus — or a high school, a government agency, a private company or any other organization — could be "too diverse."

His remarks set off a firestorm, and not just on the Morris campus — which, by the way, has a student population that is 61% white. Anyone with even a basic understanding of public relations would have told Sviggum to apologize immediately and fully, then lie low and ride out the storm, but for four days he persisted and even doubled down, going on WCCO radio and saying "Nothing should be above or below questioning. I think it's fair to at least ask the question. I don't see asking a question as being offensive or wrong and certainly, certainly, not racist."

He was wrong — and the day after that interview, as calls for his resignation swirled (including from Rep. Tina Liebling, DFL-Rochester), Sviggum finally succumbed and issued a long-overdue, unequivocal (at the time) apology.

At its conclusion, he made the following admission: "I clearly have more to learn to better understand the strength that diversity brings to our institution, and I look forward to taking those who have reached out to me up on their offers to meet and to hear their perspectives and learn from them. I am willing to learn and I must do better — and I will."

One week after issuing this apology, Sviggum resigned from his vice chair position on the Board of Regents — but he simultaneously announced his intention to serve out the remainder of his term, which will end next summer.

Sviggum isn't seeking another term on the board. We don't know if he'd planned to step down before the incident at Morris, but if he hadn't, we'll at least give him credit for seeing the handwriting on the wall now.

The question we now must ask, however, is whether he should resign (or be asked to resign) immediately — if only to send a message about how seriously the state takes its mission to welcome, educate and hire people of all races, creeds and genders.

The truth is that Sviggum could have used those two letters he received as a teachable moment. He could have said, "When parents say Morris is too diverse for their kids, that tells me we need to do a better job of educating people about the benefits of diversity on college campuses and every other environment."

But he didn't do that. Instead, he basically told the audience that he knew he was asking a dangerous question, then said "At 71 or 72 years old, I say things that I would've never thought when I was 52. But it gives you a little freedom to do that."

Age is supposed to bring wisdom, Mr. Sviggum. Not the freedom to pose loaded, inappropriate questions. And a public figure of any age should know that if you say something along the lines of "I probably shouldn't say this," then you probably shouldn't say it. Especially in a meeting, with cameras and tape recorders rolling.

But what we find even more distressing is that, even after apologizing and stepping down as vice chair, Sviggum doesn't seem to recognize the magnitude of his mistake, nor does he seem to be following through on his supposed willingness to listen to and learn from those he has wronged.

In November, at the invitation of University of Minnesota-Morris student body president Dylan Young, Sviggum went to the Morris campus and had lunch with Young and other students.

Sviggum should have attended this lunch with the goal of listening, being openly regretful and demonstrating his appreciation for the students who were taking the time to meet with him.

Apparently, that didn't happen, Young described Sviggum as "defensive, disingenuous and bitter," and said Sviggum repeatedly told him and his fellow students that "he has a fiduciary duty to the University of Minnesota and that asking questions (even harmful ones) is part of that responsibility."

That sounds a lot like "Sorry, not sorry."

Granted, we weren't present during that lunch meeting, so we can neither confirm nor refute Young's impressions of Sviggum's conduct nor his recounting of Sviggum's words. But we can confirm that on Dec. 14, more than two dozen student government leaders from across the state signed a letter seeking his immediate resignation from the Board of Regents.

They argued, "Your continued presence on the Board of Regents will signal a hostile attitude toward diversity and deter prospective students from choosing one of the five University of Minnesota campuses."

We'd have a hard time disagreeing with that statement.

So, while we won't go so far as to seek the formal ouster of Sviggum from his position and the appointment of an interim replacement (a process that would likely would take months), we wouldn't mind if Sviggum announced that he will attend no further meetings of the 12-member board while waiting for his term to end.