Anthony Kenny's essay 'Enemies of Academic Freedom'

Enemies of Academic Freedom

Anthony Kenny

Translated by: Reza Yaghoubi

Shargh Newspaper, 11 September 2021

Academic freedom is one of the pillars of the modern social order, according to which the academic is permitted and immune to challenge all accepted and prevailing views and may present controversial perspectives within their field of work. On this basis, institutions of power not only have no right to exert pressure to influence the content of an academic's speech, but must also provide space for the exchange of ideas and opinions in scholarly environments so that academic disputes are resolved in their natural settings, and not through the intervention of influential external elements. What follows is an article about academic freedom from a book titled The Ivory Tower by Anthony Kenny, the distinguished English philosopher. In this book, Kenny aims to show that philosophers have not sat in an ivory tower and can intervene in and help resolve concrete, social, political, legal, etc., issues. The book is organized into three parts: Part One, "Philosophy and Law," contains chapters on English criminal law. Part Two, "Philosophy and War," contains chapters on nuclear deterrence and just war. The final part of the book is about the "Enemies of Academic Freedom." The translation of this book has been completed by Reza Yaghoubi and will soon be published by Movajeheh Publishing.

I am both honored and embarrassed to speak in this place about the enemies of academic freedom.[1] There are few universities in the world that have dedicated themselves so much to defining academic freedom and have expended so much effort in its defense. The enemies of academic freedom I wish to speak about fall into two categories: external and internal. I want to speak about the external enemies and the internal enemies. The greatest external threats to academic freedom come from ideologies and governments; and above all from governments that serve ideologies. Let me explain what I mean by ideology. An ideology is a system of ideas that are both simple enough to be understood without special training, and ambitious enough to explain the fundamental features of human behavior and history. The hallmark of an ideology is that it has consequences for moral and political conduct. Marxism, Freudianism, Christianity, and various types of racism are instances of this definition of ideology. As you will see from the list, ideologies are not necessarily malevolent; but they all share the common feature of being unscientific. In other words, ideologies are not at all open to empirical confirmation or falsifiability and encounter a degree of assent that goes beyond the available evidence to support them. Because of the simplicity of their explanatory apparatus and the powerful allegiance they demand, ideologies stand at the opposite pole from the specialized, rigorous methods and the commitment of a scientist, a researcher, a philosopher, to testing and revision in the search for truth. My own first encounter with the conflict between ideology and academic freedom was with the harmless ideology of Christianity in its Roman Catholic form. As a student of theology in Rome, I grew accustomed to seeing many books in the library secured with a lock and a red seal: they were books that were on the Index of Forbidden Texts and could not be read without special permission from the Holy Office. A condition for obtaining any degree at the Gregorian University, where I studied, was that one swear an oath, the Anti-Modernist Oath, which obliged one to reject many modern theories; this went beyond membership in any Christian denomination or church council. At the lower levels, I swore the oath with increasing doubt; but when I had completed my doctoral examinations in theology and received the degrees, I concluded that I could no longer do so, and as a result, I was never permitted to finish that stage.

Of course, the Catholic authorities considered their actions entirely justified, even if there was no doubt that banning books and imposing test oaths was a violation of academic freedom. The transmission of pure Catholic doctrine, uncontaminated by heresy, was of incomparably greater importance than the value of academic freedom. Thus, even a harmless ideology like this is a potential enemy of academic freedom.

In recent years I have seen friends in several Eastern European countries suffer from restrictions on academic freedom on a much larger scale. Christianity, compared to the ideology imposed there, is harmless and, unlike Christianity, is imposed by the forces of police and government. In these countries, academics lose their positions for expressing views contrary to the party line: you have all experienced this to a great extent, and your Vice-Chancellor, in his opening address, spoke movingly of the university's duty of accountability and of strong accountability when ideology attempts to obstruct research. Even we in Britain are not immune to threats to academic freedom from the government. In recent months, for the first time, our Department of Education and Science (DES) attempted to intervene to change the content of a university course. In Britain, there is an institution called the Open University[2]. Its meaning is not 'a university open to all regardless of race': all British universities are open in that sense. The British Open University is a university where enrollment is open without requiring stringent qualifications, and it teaches through correspondence, radio and television programs, and printed booklets. It is the only university directly established by the government; other universities receive public funds through a quasi-independent body of academics called the University Grants Committee[3]. The social studies curriculum at the Open University contains a foundation course on the social context of economic activity; complaints were sometimes made that the materials written for this course had a Marxist bias. The Department of Education and Science (DES) commissioned a review by a number of government economists, who found the complaint to be justified; their review was sent to the Vice-Chancellor's office of the Open University with a request that the complaint be addressed. Many academics, myself included, regarded this action as a threat to the most fundamental of all academic freedoms: namely, the freedom that the content of courses should be determined by academics according to academic standards.

I can understand the arguments that the Department of Education and Science might adduce to justify this. The Department is responsible for spending money taken from taxpayers; it must see that the money is well spent on the purposes for which it was voted, and if public money has been spent on publishing unbalanced courses, then it has been badly spent. The Department of Education and Science claims to be concerned about the academic competence of the course, not its political content, and in any case it is not judging the course itself, but merely verifying the claims received before handing them over to the university authorities so that they can deal with them according to their own legal procedures. I am not a Marxist, and I do not wish to see Marxist indoctrination carried out in universities, whether at public or private expense. But it seems to me a dangerous precedent for a government, which is also the paymaster, to officially object to a university course, because it gives excessive prominence to an ideology opposed to the ruling party. The Open University can easily ignore government interference with impunity; perhaps the course under investigation is being revised for other reasons. But this procedure is equally alarming for Marxist and non-Marxist alike. If, during the tenure of a left-wing Labour Secretary of State for Education, the Department of Education and Science were to interrogate me as to whether my faculty's courses contained sufficient essential Marxist elements, I would be outraged. Although I find this development worrying, I realize that our problems concerning the freedom to teach what we wish are negligible compared to the difficulties you must grapple with. Our freedom in research and learning is not hindered by the banning of books; our professors do not have to hesitate to address certain subjects or refrain from expressing their opinions frankly for fear that a police informer might be sitting in their classroom. You in this university have a traditional and resonant definition of academic freedom, which is the right to decide 'who may teach, what may be taught, how it shall be taught, and who may be admitted to study.' Although it is a splendid definition and seems remarkably broad, it contains items that relate to university autonomy rather than academic freedom. In another way, it seems very limited, because it makes no mention of research, which is surely one of the functions of a university as fundamental as teaching.

So far I have spoken only of threats to the freedom of teaching. I will now speak of threats to the freedom of who teaches and who is taught; but let me first pay more attention to the definition of academic freedom and its nature.

Academic freedom must be distinguished, on the one hand, from freedom of expression and, on the other, from academic privilege. Academic freedom overlaps with freedom of expression but is not identical to it. Freedom of expression is a right enjoyed by all citizens, not just academics, in a free society. On the other hand, academic freedom is not the same as academic privilege. Academics in many universities have the right—a right not enjoyed by all professions—to take sabbatical leave. I consider sabbatical leave valuable, defensible, and an academic privilege, and I protest against attempts to take this right away; but I cannot claim that abolishing sabbatical leave is a violation of academic freedom. Our issues concerning university admissions relate to two things: overseas students and students coming from different schools within the British education system. Mrs. Thatcher's first government forced universities to charge overseas students the 'full cost' above a minimum level set by ministerial decree. Given the prevailing exchange rate at the time, Oxford became one of the most expensive universities in the world. We feared overseas students would go elsewhere and our international standing would suffer. Most universities and colleges protested, and as a result of these protests and diplomatic representations from other countries, the situation has improved somewhat. Was the imposition of full costs a violation of academic freedom? It was clearly an encroachment on university autonomy: universities were no longer free to set their own fees as before (though this freedom had been eroded over the years). But was it also against academic freedom? Some institutions protested against the decision on financial grounds: high fees would deter all overseas students and reduce the university's overall income. If that were the only objection, it would have no bearing on academic freedom. But others protested on genuinely academic grounds: after years of experience, we felt that having people of different nationalities and races shoulder to shoulder in the college was itself a valuable part of the education we offered. Thus here, an encroachment that was fundamentally on university autonomy also impinged upon academic freedom. Regarding the admission of students in Britain, our concern at Oxford was to ensure that recruitment from both the state and private education sectors was fair. Although independent, non-profit schools educate a very small percentage of the population, they sometimes make up half of the successful candidates for admission to Oxford. Naturally, many ask whether this is fair, and we have recently reformed our admissions procedures, particularly regarding the timing of the entrance examination, in ways we believe make the entrance competition perceptibly fairer; but we refused to accept the proposal to set admission quotas for different schools (which was proposed at this time by the opposition party, not the government). Some of our members favor this measure: but in my view, it would be an inappropriate use of non-academic criteria in the university's admissions decision-making. Academic freedom is the freedom granted to academics so that they can properly carry out the university's academic tasks, pursue unknown truth through research and inquiry, and transmit the knowledge gained through publication and teaching. Academic freedom is therefore freedom from restriction in the performance of these academic activities. Among the most important decisions a university makes for the purpose of seeking and transmitting truth is the selection of persons appointed to academic posts, and this decision must be based on academic grounds. Restricting this choice on other grounds is a violation of academic freedom. In many parts of the world, especially where, as in Britain, unemployment is high, this aspect of academic freedom is under threat. In Britain, any foreigner who wishes to work must obtain a work permit; and any employer who wishes to obtain a work permit must prove not only that the worker they are hiring has the best qualifications for the job, but must also prove that they are the only person with those qualifications.

My own college recently experienced the restrictions that this system imposes on us, when we advertised a senior research fellowship in history. In open competition among candidates working in different fields, the leading candidate was a specialist in medieval siege warfare. When we selected him and applied for a work permit, it was refused unless we could certify that he was the only suitable candidate. We were reluctant to do this: if he did not take up the post, we would have chosen the next best applicant. Nor were we willing to leave the post vacant and advertise for a medieval catapult specialist; a post for which he would undoubtedly have been the sole candidate. We wished to reserve the right, which we greatly value, to appoint to posts the persons who are academically best qualified, regardless of their nationality. After months of negotiation, a procedure was eventually devised that seemed to satisfy both sides. Nowadays, when we apply for a work permit for a foreign academic, we certify that “the chosen person was so far ahead of the other candidates in the competition as to be effectively the only qualified person for the advertised post.” The freedom to be able to choose whom you wish to teach is the most controversial freedom included in your definition of academic freedom. I claim that it is rightly included in the definition, but only insofar as this freedom of choice serves the academic function of the university. What is fundamental is admission to the university on academic criteria, not on irrelevant grounds such as racial origin. In Britain we are forbidden to base our admissions on race; and I do not regard this as an infringement of academic freedom.

I do not claim that it is necessary that those who have been most successful in a competitive examination should be preferred in admission to those who have been less successful. Whether this is the best way of selecting candidates—even on the strictest academic grounds—depends on the whole educational context in which the university operates. It is perfectly reasonable to select a candidate who has done poorly in an examination provided that, whatever deprivation he suffered during his preparation, we believe he will benefit from a university education as much as someone who, thanks to attending a better school, has been better trained for the examination. Selecting in this way, on the basis of promise rather than performance, is quite different from imposing entry quotas from different sources; it is entirely justifiable academically, even though it naturally carries greater risks of misjudgment than those involved in basing admission on a not-very-meritorious competitive examination. On the other hand, the imposition of quotas, whether based on race, gender, religion, or background, seems to me a violation of academic freedom. This is often imposed with lofty motives out of a desire to help disadvantaged groups. But no student at a university should have to believe, “I am here only because I am black, or a woman, or because I came from a state school.”

The threat to academic freedom from the imposition of quotas is as real within the university as it is from outside it: for there are as many enemies of academic freedom inside the university itself as outside it. The internal enemies of the university fall into two groups: enemies within the faculty, and enemies within the student body.

Faculty members, by abusing academic freedom, pose the most common threat. If someone uses their academic position to impose an ideology on a student, if someone grades based on inappropriate criteria, if someone sexually assaults a student, they have harmed academic freedom. It is especially disastrous for academic freedom when academics try to turn every issue concerning academic excellence into an issue about academic freedom. This abuse takes shape when academic excellence is defended by means that contradict its very raison d'être; such as when the relative salary base of academics is defended by a campus sit-in, which is equivalent to the actions of industrial workers. When academics, to promote their own interests, resort to actions and omissions whose immediate result is harm to their own students, they disgrace their distinguished profession. It is true that strikes harm third parties, like a dockworkers' strike causing discomfort to travelers, but what is offensive in strikes is when they cause harm to those with whom one has a professional, reciprocal relationship. Academics can not only betray academic freedom in name by smuggling in those less-than-noble advantages; they can also err by overvaluing even genuine academic freedom. Academic freedom is an authentic and precious value; but it does not rank very high in the hierarchy of human values. The right to academic freedom is not as important as the right to a living wage or the right not to be forcibly separated from one's family. A society that has placed great value on academic freedom and little value on other rights is, from a very broad perspective, worse than a society that has denied academic freedom but respects the more fundamental rights of human beings. The second category of enemies of academic freedom, who are internal enemies, are enemies from among the university's student body. In recent decades in many countries, some of the worst attacks on academic freedom have come from students, who are the primary stakeholders of the university. Shutting down lectures and seminars, harassing unpopular lecturers and administrators, using force and threats to determine university decisions—all of these are violations of academic freedom that both interfere with the university's own procedures and not only fail to produce academic freedom but also disgrace the entire academic community. They give malevolent public authorities a pretext to intervene in university life and fuel hostility toward academic values among the uncultured general public.

My intention in saying this is not to deny or wish away the students' right to protest, and I do not do so by pointing out their opposition to government policies or the non-academic decisions of university bodies. If students boycott a reception hall in protest at buffet prices, or form a noisy lobby for a committee to make room rents reasonable, although it may be annoying for university administrators, it cannot be said to diminish academic freedom. But when direct pressure is applied regarding academic appointments, course content, or examination results, the matter is different. The clearest violation of academic freedom by students occurs when physical action is taken to prevent a professor from teaching or to prevent a student from attending a course. Regrettably, both types of violation are still seen in my own country. So, in my view, one of the first requirements of academic freedom is that every lecturer who is duly appointed, and every student who is duly enrolled, must be free to offer or take their courses.

Apparently, where the subject is the offering of university courses, and the students in the course are at their own university, and that course is run by the university's own faculty, there is no room for debate. The matter becomes difficult when lectures and talks within the university are given by guests from outside the university.

As far as visiting academics—staff or students from other universities—invited by members of the university are concerned, I believe the rule should be the same as that which governs courses organized within the university itself. The shared privilege of the community of scholars should mean that any member of one university who is properly invited by members of another university should have as much right to be heard as the faculty and students of the host university have, and moreover, this right should, if necessary, be enforced by the university authorities. When we come to consider the issue of non-academic visitors, we enter a difficult area. Should all members of the university have the right to invite whomever they wish to accompany them in their course? And should this right be enforced by the university authorities at any cost? I noted that the Senate and Council of the University of Cape Town recently declared their support for freedom of speech and assembly on campus and affirmed the right of academics to invite any person to participate in any university program. I must confess to some misunderstandings about the apparent breadth of this declaration. I understand that this declaration was accompanied by a reaffirmation of the right to oppose such invitations or the views expressed, provided that the expression of such opposition in no way restricts freedom of speech or expression. But if it means that it is an essential part of academic freedom that any academic can officially invite anyone to speak on campus, I respectfully disagree. Some invitations issued by academics can lead to an abuse of academic freedom: thus, one might invite individuals who represent views so wicked or regimes so odious that it constitutes such an abuse. In my view, it would not be a violation of academic freedom if the entire academic community—through its appropriate governing bodies—oversees the invitation of non-academic persons. For example, the invitation of a non-academic professional politician is something that requires approval by an assembly before it is issued. So I agree with the proposition that academics, and not any academic, should be free to invite whom they wish. If inviting someone requires security provided by the police, or if disciplinary action is needed for its execution, then in the case of an invitation to the university, the university authorities must be informed; if that person is a non-academic, the consent of the university authorities must be obtained. I realize that by expressing this opinion I am entering a matter that has been a concern here recently, but the rule I have stated is formulated on the basis of a fairly similar experience at Oxford. I will apply this rule to a hypothetical case: if one of my colleagues invited an academic from a South African university to report on the operation of racial laws, I would consider this a legitimate use of academic freedom and would secure the faculty's support for that speaker, even if students proved a violation of academic freedom. But if he invited the South African ambassador, I would consider it an abuse of academic freedom. Since this invitation was extended to a non-academic guest, I would deem it requiring the approval of the university's governing community, and among the governors, I would work to prohibit it for two reasons; first, whatever service this invitation could render to academic aims is also available through other means; second, an ambassador is not an academic person but a representative of a government; so that giving a platform to such a person is a means of supporting that government's policies. I said that if an academic person from South Africa were invited to my faculty, I would consider it an academic right and defensible, and indeed we would be pleased and honored to have welcomed distinguished scholars from South Africa for many years, especially from the University of Cape Town, to grace and enliven our common rooms and seminars with their presence. From this statement you will conclude that I have no interest in an academic boycott of South Africa. You will know that among my academic colleagues in Britain there are those who will think I should not have come to this country, and indeed, the general policy of the Association of University Teachers is a boycott of South African universities.

Therefore, before concluding, I must say a little about academic and non-academic boycotts. I believe six major types of boycott have been imposed or promoted against South Africa by other countries: consumer boycotts of South African exports, boycotts of sporting contacts, boycotts of theatrical and entertainment contacts, ecclesiastical censures, refusal to invest in South Africa, and the severance of academic links. There are different arguments for each of these boycotts, but they are all justified on the grounds that this is the only way to make the country's decision-makers realize that South Africa's isolation in the international community can put pressure on the government to abandon unjust laws and discard racial policies.

As I explained in my lecture, we too have problems in defending academic freedom; but they are nothing compared to the threats you must confront. The threats that governments pose to our academic freedom are harmless compared to what they bring upon you, and when we speak out against government encroachment, we need not fear that our protest will be recorded in a file or that our passports will be revoked.

Every guest who comes to your university must congratulate you on the struggle you have waged in recent years for open access to the university for all races, and look forward to the day of your complete victory.

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Notes:

[1] This lecture was delivered at the University of Cape Town on 24 July 1984 (this university is located in South Africa, and the lecture pertains to the height of the apartheid era in that country—Translator).

[2] Open university

[3] University Grants Committee

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