Free Speech Under Fire? - The Case of Steven Salaita

Earlier this year, The New York Times’ Nicholas Kristof used his column to call upon academics to engage a wider public beyond their usual audiences.  Kristof argued that our society needed the best and the brightest among us in order to solve some of the vexing problems we currently confront, noting the misfortune that “[S]cholars have periodically submitted meaningless gibberish to scholarly journals — only to have the nonsense respectfully published. ...” while concluding, “So, professors, don’t cloister yourselves like medieval monks — we need you!”

Kristof’s views raised a number of objections from many academics who essentially countered that many scholars already are engaging a broad public through their teaching and their writing, which often appears beyond professional scholarly journals and in outlets like the op-ed pages of major national newspapers, blogs, and other alternate venues.  While Kristof’s opinion may have been valid in spirit to some extent, he and some of his critics ultimately missed a major point about the current climate on contemporary college campuses – namely how academics increasingly are being discouraged if not out rightly punished for speaking publicly on important topics of the day.

One needs to look no further than the case of Steven G. Salaita.

Image Steven G. Salaita from Inside Higher Ed

For those unfamiliar with this situation, here are the basic facts.  Dr. Salaita was offered a tenured professorship at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign (UIUC).  Ultimately, UIUC Chancellor Phyllis M. Wise voided Dr. Salaita’s appointment when she refused to advance his nomination to the University’s Board of Trustees, which was to vote on Salaita’s joining the UIUC faculty.  Chancellor Wise cited Dr. Salaita’s public comments via Twitter about the ongoing violence in Gaza – comments some characterized as uncivil at best and as anti-Semitic at worst.  During the subsequent weeks, the UIUC Board and Chancellor received criticisms that their actions and their justifications of them on the basis of "civility" are tantamount to an attack on academic freedom, freedom of speech protections, or both.

Writing for The Chronicle of Education’s blog "Vitae", Georgia Perimeter College Associate Professor Rob Jenkins discusses the chilling effects punitive actions such as those taken by the UIUC administration can have, stating:

I’m not denying that academic freedom is taking a beating all over the country.  But what is even more endangered, it seems to me, is the right of faculty members to speak their mind outside of the classroom, off-campus, and apart from their contractual duties.  In return for a paycheck, faculty members are increasingly expected to surrender their personal beliefs on controversial topics, lest—God forbid—they say something that might “embarrass the institution.”

My point here is not to weigh whether or not Dr. Salaita’s Twitter comments constitute anti-Semitism.  Rather, I wish to express my own concern about the broad application of so-called civility and similarly vague or ambiguous dispositional characteristics as the basis for punitive actions against scholars and academics by the institutions they serve or by the administrators responsible for the integrity of those institutions.

We must consistently bear in mind that colleges and universities are institutions founded on the free exchange of ideas.  Many scholars do what they do in order produce and advance knowledge for the benefit of all of society.  As such, practitioners of the various academic disciplines should challenge conventional wisdom and speak truth to power.  Indeed, this was a motivating factor for me in becoming an historian.

In his brilliant primer, History: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford University Press, 2000), John H. Arnold addresses this idea, writing:

[H]istory is an argument, and arguments present the opportunity for change.  When presented with some dogmatist claiming that “this is the only course of action” or “this is how things have always been,” history allows us to demure, to point out that there have always been many courses of action, many ways of being.  History provides us with the tools to dissent (page 122, original emphasis).

As Dr. Salaita’s case demonstrates, punitive institutional actions against those charged with producing and disseminating knowledge can take tremendous tolls on both the professional and the personal levels.  Yet, I believe it is the work of academics and scholars - the producing and disseminating knowledge and speaking truth to power - that can serve as a corrective to such aggressions.

In Memoriam - Michael B. Katz, 1939-2014

The intellectual community lost a giant last week.  Michael B. Katz, the Walter H. Annenberg Professor of History and Research Associate in the Population Studies Center in the History Department at the University of Pennsylvania passed away on Saturday, August 23^rd 2014 after a long bout with cancer.  (It has been a particularly tough couple of years for Penn’s History faculty, when one considers the recent losses of Sheldon Hackney and Robert Engs, each towering figures in his own right.)

Michael was a pioneer and helped make the history of education a viable field of study with the publication of The Irony of Early School Reform (1968), a book that remains as relevant today as when it first was published.  He was a prolific scholar, and his later works examined urban history and the history of poverty and the welfare state.  Indeed, Michael enjoyed renewed attention in these areas recently with the release of a revised and updated edition of his The Undeserving Poor (1990), which coincided with growing interests in income inequality among the mainstream media and in the public discourse.

Image from the University of Pennsylvania

Several moving tributes to Michael as a scholar and as a person appeared almost immediately following his passing, for example here and here.  The immediacy of these memorials demonstrates the tremendous loss Michael’s passing represents.  For me, the loss is not only professional, but also personal.  Michael was my adviser for seven years and oversaw my dissertation when I was his doctoral student at Penn.  I have several stories and memories about Michael, two of which I wish to share with you now.

The first is from the Spring of 2008.  I was part of a panel of graduating doctoral candidates who had completed Penn’s Graduate Certificate in Urban Studies, a program Michael helped create.  This annual event highlights the work of graduate students as emerging scholars.  Michael presided over the panel, offering commentary and leading the Q-and-A session.  I noted at the time that the panel marked the first time that I shared a dais with Michael, saying it was all the greater of an honor as it was the only time that we would appear together as adviser and student.  Michael’s comments and feedback on that Spring morning to my fellow panelists and me demonstrated the deep interest he took in his students.  His guidance throughout my dissertation writing particularly showed the high expectations he held for his students to do their very best work.

The second is more recent, coming during the final months of Michael’s life.  Periodically throughout my career as a junior academic, I have reached out to Michael via e-mail, either to update him on my progress or to ask his assistance or advice with the trajectory my career was taking.  Admittedly, most of these would come when I was feeling particularly low about how my career was not developing as I had hoped or when I was contemplating abandoning academia all together.  Among his last replies to me was a rather lengthy e-mail message, one that reveals someone who not only was fully engaged with the state of the profession but also acutely aware of the changing demographics of education generally, and how those changes would influence the future needs of higher education in particular.  Michael’s astute observations of those needs - and what I could contribute to meet them - were as encouraging as they were inspiring.  Even towards the end, Michael was engaged with and interested in his students and the profession.

I treasure these and so many more memories all the more now that Michael is gone.

I know I am not alone in mourning the loss of this wonderful person.  My thoughts and condolences go out to Michael’s family and his many colleagues and friends.  I hope they find comfort in knowing that his spirit lives on in the teaching, research, writings, and other work of his many, many students.