By Matilda Fitzmaurice and Dion Georgiou
This article represents an attempt to establish some basic, but contingent, principles on academic freedom. It does not put forward a ‘UCU Commons position’ on academic freedom, as this collectivity contains diverse and wide-ranging views on the subject (which we believe should be encouraged). As the authors of this article, both of us are constantly re-examining and updating our views on this subject, and these principles are not fixed outside of time and space, but a response to the conjuncture in which we currently find ourselves. Therefore, we hope that these principles are received in an ethic of generosity and curiosity. The article proceeds in five parts, with one part per principle.
The biggest threat to academic freedom comes from the exercise of state power. This may seem obvious, but we believe it is important to state it here. While this is an issue constantly bubbling away more or less in the background, it has been brought to the fore in recent months by Israel’s bombing of Gaza following attacks and the taking of hostages by Hamas on 7th October 2023. Israel’s bombing campaign has been described as a genocide and has led to an interim ruling by the International Court of Justice that Israel must prevent all genocidal acts in Gaza. Since Israel’s retaliation began, there have been large demonstrations all over the world, week after week, calling for an immediate ceasefire.
On the 28th October 2023, two UK academics, both appointed by Research England to an advisory group on equality, diversity and inclusion, became the subjects of a letter written to Ottoline Leyser, the CEO of UKRI, by the Secretary of State for Science, Innovation and Technology, Michelle Donelan. Both Kate Sang and Kamna Patel had posted on X (Twitter) about events in Palestine/Israel, indicating support for views that, according to Donelan, promoted “extremist ideologies” and in one case, expressed “support or sympathy” for Hamas as a proscribed terrorist organisation. However, it quickly became apparent that far from being ‘extremist’, the views expressed by Sang and Patel were simply contrary to what was then the UK government’s position on Israel’s bombing of Gaza. While Donelan used the words “extremist ideologies”, likening the Israeli state’s actions towards Palestinians to “apartheid” is well within the bounds of legitimate political discourse, both in the UK and indeed in Israel. Therefore, this looks less like an attempt to protect impartiality than a cynical attack on academic freedom, which seems designed to exert a chilling effect on those expressing their own views on this or other subjects. Ottoline Leyser, the head of UKRI, responded by disbanding the EDI advisory group of which Sang and Patel were members, pending an investigation. UCU responded furiously to this, calling for UKRI to reverse the suspension, or risk losing the sector’s confidence in the independence of UK research funding councils. What this tells us is that if there is to be any meaningful academic freedom, there has to be an arm’s-length relationship between academic research and the executive (via research councils) and on no account should governments overstep those publicly, as Donelan did.1 Furthermore, since academics’ continued employment depends on attracting external funding for research, falling foul of research funding bodies might have serious material consequences. The implications of this are especially weighty for the many precarious academics who are dependent on research funding providers in a more concrete sense for their continued employment, and therefore their material livelihoods.
Universities must accept that academic research carries an inherent risk of controversy. This means they should be narrowly specific in deciding where to intervene (i.e. if their views make them a threat to students). For example, the sociologist David Miller, then employed by the University of Bristol, allegedly made comments to the online student newspaper The Tab describing a university Jewish Society as an “Israel lobby group”, as well as referring to Israel in lectures as “an enemy of world peace”. Though a QC is said to have found that Miller’s alleged comments were not “unlawful speech”, the University of Bristol terminated Miller’s employment in 2021, citing its duty of care to students and the wider university community. However, some of Miller’s comments in lectures – those linking Jewish charities to Zionist lobbying, which is widely understood to be an antisemitic trope – had been dismissed by the university on academic freedom grounds. As authors of this piece, we would also consider these comments antisemitic. Here, there seems to have been a distinction made between comments expressed by Miller that, on the one hand, took the form of legitimate academic speech (i.e. in a lecture), and on the other, extramural speech that undermined Miller’s duty as an educator not to expose his students to (potential) harm. What’s more, Miller seems to be a rare example of apparent prejudice resulting in tangible material consequences (his dismissal from his post), which is, in all probability, related to the fact that his comments attracted criticism from across the political spectrum.
There is a massive imbalance in our media ecology towards the political right. This means that even if an academic is shunned by their peers on account of their views, they are still in a material position to express them if they align with those of dominant media institutions. The politics professor Matthew Goodwin, for instance, has been regularly and robustly criticised in public by his peers (for example, by Jonathan Portes and Martin Shaw) for sloppy academic practice, as well as for being a participant in populism masquerading as an authoritative academic observer of it. Yet, having keyed into the ‘anti-woke’, ‘cancel culture’ agenda, and having ensconced himself in the network of right-wing think-tanks such as the Legatum Institute, Goodwin retains the power to express himself freely. A similar assessment can be made – and indeed, has been made – of the former Birkbeck professor Eric Kaufmann, who recently complained (in a column for The Critic) that “it is difficult for people with heterodox opinions to survive in modern universities.” Kaufmann is now a professor at the private University of Buckingham, where last month he launched a publicly-accessible online course called ‘Woke: The Origins, Dynamics, and Implications of an Elite Ideology’. As with Goodwin, it is difficult to argue that expressing his views has led Kaufmann to experience any limitations to academic freedom.
Furthermore, the benefits of this right-wing media ecology do not only accrue to committedly controversialist figures like Goodwin and Kaufmann. In May 2020, a controversy erupted over an article published in the journal Security Dialogue, providing an analysis of the so-called ‘Copenhagen School’ of securitisation theory as an exemplar of the institutionalised racism of International Relations. The authors of multiple texts critiqued in the article wrote a rejoinder claiming that the article’s two authors, Alison Howell and Melanie Richter-Montpetit, had engaged in ‘deepfake methodology’ and that they had personally accused him, and his Copenhagen School peers, of racism. While Howell and Richter-Montpetit were personally attacked online, one of the criticised authors, Ole Waever, received a sympathetic write-up in the reactionary online magazine Quillette, titled: ‘Meet Critical Theorists’ Latest Target: Critical Theorists’. He was also interviewed by the Danish newspaper Kristeligt Dagblad, which, in what might be read as an echo of the Jyllands-Posten’s infamous publication of inflammatory Prophet Mohammed cartoons in 2005, published a sketch that appeared to depict Waever being pursued by the authors, the journal editor and an unmarked figure, all armed with pitchforks and flaming torches (see Howell & Richter-Montpetit 2023: 321). The critical point here is that due to the dominance of right-wing sensibilities in the current media ecology, and the hegemonic status (though contested) of the ‘cancel-culture’ discourse within that ecology, a latitude was accorded to Waever and his sympathisers that would not be available to someone on the political left. Moreover, as Howell and Richter-Montpetit (2023:319) themselves report, controversies like these have a chilling effect on emerging scholars, especially those who are already marginalised and/or minoritised.
Exercising academic freedom is not separate from, but entangled with power. We should recognise that we do hold a degree of power to silence or exclude views as academics, especially those in open-ended posts or carrying prestige for previous publications or scholarly contributions. The outrage expressed by Waever and his peers, and their affront at having their discipline-building legacy challenged, not least by two more ‘junior’ women colleagues, is an example. Other academics have less power to exclude other views, and may be at a heightened risk of experiencing this exclusion themselves. For example, given they do not benefit from open-ended posts at universities, academics in precarious employment can be said to have negligible academic freedom insofar as definitions of it such as that outlined in the Education Reform Act (1988)2 only afford protection to those with remunerated positions at universities. As we know from many of our colleagues’ experiences, this is no longer a guarantee for growing numbers of academics. It is also worth keeping in mind that the introduction of a legal definition of academic freedom in the UK (inaugurated by the 1988 Act) originates out of the abolition of tenure for academics in the UK (so in a paradoxical but very real sense, out of a defeat for academic freedom). But since we do have power, there is an onus on us to make sure we use that power properly. However, it still needs to be stated unequivocally that non-platforming someone is far below the level of power held by those other institutions (such as the executive or media organisations), and it is important it exists – and can be wielded – as a countervailing force, to create an environment with more genuine academic freedom (by reducing the power of those who’d threaten the freedom of others).
Finally, academic freedom is about responsibilities as well as rights. There is a responsibility for individual academics, for instance, to ensure we engage ethically in research. Academic freedom is a collective right that depends on us exercising it well and not taking advantage of it for our own agendas. Some have argued that this extends to an obligation to engage rigorously and in good faith with our disciplinary peers. The feminist scholar Joan W Scott (2019) has argued that academic freedom is both enabling and constraining, a right and a responsibility, as enjoying academic freedom means subjecting oneself to the rules governing a disciplinary community. In a detailed review of two prominent ‘gender-critical’ books – Helen Joyce’s Trans and Kathleen Stock’s Material Girls – the law professor Alex Sharpe points out that Stock fails to rigorously engage with queer and gender scholarship in the humanities and social sciences, to the point of seriously misrepresenting it. Sharpe argues that in her drive to discredit ‘gender identity’ and ‘social constructionism’, Stock claims that Judith Butler denies the existence of biology and that Michel Foucault denies homosexuality, claims that both Butler and Foucault have refuted. For Scott, this would certainly amount to a failure to subject oneself to the scrutiny of the disciplinary community, for if an academic – or someone claiming to have had their ‘academic freedom’ violated – has refused to engage properly with the work of their peers, they cannot very well claim an attack on their academic freedom when bad-faith or poorly conceived arguments are met with rebuttals. To be clear, none of this means it is not possible to receive negative pushback for speaking out justly. However, it seems far more damaging when an individual researcher acts in bad faith, ultimately, because of the discord it sows, and opportunities it provides for other bad-faith actors. It means something different, for instance, if a doctor were to spread vaccine conspiracy theories than a non-credentialed member of the public – their obligation to use their freedom of expression carefully has more serious implications.
And now to some concluding remarks. We have argued that academic freedom is inextricable from the functioning of power: since we as academics, by virtue of our position, are not powerless, our exercising of our academic freedom carries responsibilities as well as rights. It is incumbent on our employers, and our funders, to accept the risk of controversy inherent to rigorous academic research as practised in a democratic society. This acceptance sits firmly at odds with the ‘restructuring’ and ‘rebranding’ strategies recently – and currently – pursued by some university managers. Additionally, while it may smart to be shunned by our peers for our views, the most serious threat to our freedom to talk about our work without fear or favour comes from the exercise of state power, regardless of which government happens to be in office, acting in concert with a right-leaning media whose interventions politicians both anticipate and react to. As we stated in our introduction, we believe that any principles on academic freedom must be arrived at, and situated within, the broad reality of the situation that confronts us now. Finally, all of the above must be read through the lenses of difference, minoritisation and marginalisation.
Dion and Matilda would like to thank fellow UCU Commons members for lively discussions on academic freedom, which have substantially enriched both the argument and the ethic with which they have approached this article. They also thank Sophia Woodman for her careful copy-editing. Matilda would like to acknowledge Alison Howell and Melanie Richter-Montpetit, whose experiences also informed the arguments presented here.
Featured photo by Mathias Reding.
References
Howell A & Richter-Montpetit M (2023) Upholding disciplinary whiteness: The #SdScandal, gender and international relations’ critical turn. Security Dialogue 54(4), 313 – 336.
Scott JW (2019) Knowledge, Power, and Academic Freedom. New York: Columbia University Press.
- Following an investigation, UKRI found no evidence of a breach of the EDI advisory group’s terms of reference, and no breach of the ‘Nolan’ principles of public life. Donelan has since been forced to apologise and pay damages after Sang launched a libel action against her. The libel bill of £15,000 was paid for by the UK taxpayer and Donelan has not offered her resignation.
↩︎ - According to the Education Reform Act (1988), “[A]cademic staff have freedom within the law to question and test received wisdom, and to put forward new ideas and controversial or unpopular opinions, without placing themselves in jeopardy of losing their jobs or privileges they may have at their institutions.” ↩︎
UCU Commons a 