Academic Freedom and the Future of Civilization
by Llewellyn H. Rockwell, Jr.
by Llewellyn H. Rockwell, Jr.
The
attack on Hans-Hermann Hoppe
draws attention to an institution that hangs by a thread in our
state-managed times: academic freedom. The attackers and the victims
come from both right and left in a continuing cycle of aggression
and retaliation that began with the politicization of the university
environment, and will continue so long as academic institutions
are used as tools of political propaganda and indoctrination. That
a world-famous libertarian intellectual would come under assault
should raise the consciousness of all who care about the future
of liberty.
In
the first letter that began the public aspect of the case, the university
administration excoriated Hoppe for a politically sensitive illustration
that he used in an economics lecture. The administration then dared
pronounce on what should be considered valid (politically approved)
fact and invalid (politically unapproved) opinion, and insisted
he stick to the former and eschew the latter in his classroom lectures.
He had earlier been threatened with even more severe punishments.
The
weapon used against him is hardly a surprise. Following a student
complaint, the university's "anti-discrimination" regulations were
invoked to say that Hoppe had created a hostile learning environment,
as if his teaching was invidious and personal as versus illustrative
and general. As a long line of academic and commercial victims of
these regulations can attest, anti-discrimination regulations presume
the ability of enforcers to read the mind of the accused and perfectly
discern his motive, then criminalize it in a fully despotic fashion.
Using
these laws to suppress dissent is more subtle than the old instruments
of loyalty oaths, claims of treason, accusations of heresy, and
the like. They tap into the reigning political morality of the day,
which is that there are few wrongs as heinous as insulting a politically
favored victim group. Anyone so accused can hardly ever escape the
accusation, and there is essentially no defense other than to crawl,
cry mea maxima culpa, and spend the rest of one's days affirming
the truth and merit of official political etiquette.
What
the university had not counted on was that Hoppe would not cave
in and take this path. He refused and fought back, and eventually
the case entered the public eye. The bureaucrats who went after
him could not have expected the amazing and near-universal response,
which was outrage at Hoppe’s accusers.
Some
700
scholars, students, and citizens have signed the Mises Institute's
letter on his behalf an unprecedented online effort on behalf of
a faculty member and this has lifted everyone's spirits. European
scholars wrote and signed an
additional letter. More importantly, to those professors who
face pressure every day and fear breaking political taboos, the
petition says: you are not alone. You can count on an international
movement of students, scholars, and citizens to back you should
you face attempts to silence you.
This
is all magnificent. It also draws attention to the importance of
academic freedom in the history of civilization. What academic freedom
means is no more and no less than the inviolability of the academy
from state intrusion. It means that government may not dictate what
is taught in the classroom, and, by extension, professors must not
face retaliation by the state or its proxies for the ideas they
teach.
When
many people hear this phrase, they think it represents special privilege,
as if professors are claiming a right for themselves that others
in society do not have. After all, we don't hear about the rights
of plumbers, real-estate developers, or computer-programmers. We
all answer to someone. Why should professors, just because they
have PhDs and impressive gowns, be treated any differently?
One
response to this is that the same freedoms that apply to professors
in a free society should indeed apply to everyone. Yes, there should
be plumber freedom, etc., and it should be as inviolable as academic
freedom. While it is true that most people do not consistently defend
such a broad view of freedom, such guarantees should indeed exist.
There should be liberty for all, and privilege for none.
Nor
does the idea of academic freedom somehow trump the institution
of private property. A private school is free to hire and fire on
any basis whatsoever. It can make contracts with professors that
say: you must always teach that X religion is true, that the college
president is not a jerk, that socialism did not fail, or whatever
else is specified in the contract. There is a market for contracts,
and professors are free to shop around.
Nor
does academic freedom mean relativism, as William F. Buckley's bestseller
God
and Man at Yale (1952) presumes. Buckley, whose attack on
Yale in this book for its tolerance of dissent, had an enormous
impact on the American conservative movement. He belittles academic
freedom even as he misunderstands it. He also heralds the federal
government for being "far ahead" of private universities in suppressing
dissidents. In fact, Buckley here approves of the government rule
that classrooms teach nothing "which is manifestly inimical to the
public welfare." Here we have a founding document of postwar conservatism!
Despite
attacks from the left and right, the University of Nevada, Las Vegas,
contract
is not at all unusual in specifying academic freedom as a firm principle,
even today. Why such an emphasis on this point at a time when all
our freedoms are being chipped away? Why do people get up in arms
about this particular point? Why does there exist a constant struggle
for the rights of speech in the classroom, when so many other rights
have been given up without a fight?
The
reason lies deep in Western history. When the universities of the
early Middle Ages were established, they were established by the
Church to be completely free of state interference. No secular leader
was permitted to interfere, and none dared do so. This was academic
freedom: freedom from the state.
This
permitted the universities to teach ideas contrary to current political
trends, contrary to regime orthodoxy, and contrary to whatever the
local chieftain demanded. Universities, like cathedrals, were sanctuaries
from wars, political machinations, revolutions, and kingly belligerence.
University life was not always peaceful, but its conflicts were
internal matters of management. This tradition of autonomy was quite
broad: not even Popes used their formal powers against them.
The
independence of academic life is what permitted the rise in the
Middle Ages of the ideas of liberalism, human rights, commercial
freedom, religious freedom, scientific objectivity, and progress
generally. As Ralph Raico has pointed out, the competing sovereignties
of church, university, family, community, and state led to an ideal
confluence of forces, such that no one institution could impose
its will on the whole of society. This permitted the emergence of
new ideas and new ways of thinking that led to capitalism and the
anti-statist movement of the 18th and 19th
centuries.
Of
course, the Middle Ages that defended academic freedom was a time
before the creation of the nation-state in the 16th century.
Jacques Barzun writes (in Sidney Hook's edited volume In Defense
of Academic Freedom, 1971; pp. 120129) that by 1500, the
entire old scheme of divided sovereignty and the free university
had been wiped away. The advent of the nation-state led to government
imposition on universities in Europe. Kings interfered in management
and imposed new rules on students, administrations, and faculty.
Since then, universities have been threatened, dictated to, and
shut down for political reasons.
What
is remarkable is not that states have imposed their will, but the
extent to which academic freedom survived the onslaught of the nation-state.
The sacrosanct principle against interference remained the norm,
even as the rest of society became absorbed into the new statism.
In this respect, the independence of the university mirrored the
independence of the Church; it survived because the institution
fought so hard for it. Academic freedom made it possible, which
is why Walter Metzger described the institution as "one of the remarkable
achievements of man."
The
idea survived not only the creation and growth of the nation state,
but autocracy and even the emergence of the total state. Under Nazism
and Communism, there was no academic freedom. But even they could
not stamp it out entirely in the farther reaches of their empires.
As Barzun points out, "even under the Russian czars the police were
forbidden to enter the university, a tradition that curiously persisted
through the Russian repression at Prague in the summer of 1968."
One
lesson that history teaches is that the state never relents. It
wants all institutions under its control. We owe our freedom not
to the state's willingness to allow people and institutions to be
free, but to the willingness of people and institutions to resist.
The state is forever pressing its demands against the university,
even as the university, even if owned by the state, bears a moral
obligation rooted in history and tradition to resist.
One
of many tools the state uses to control academic life today is agitation
of student victim groups. Any student claiming to be offended by
a professor's remark about a group or class or individual can invoke
anti-discrimination laws. The university is usually ideologically
prepared to go along, given the prevalence of "politically correct"
sympathies in the higher administration. This has led to a disproportionate
number of political dissidents being caught in the web of the newest
round of attacks on classroom autonomy.
Mises
and the liberal tradition generally have argued that ideas are the
unseen forces that shape our history and future. If professors cannot
feel free and protected when they teach ideas contrary to the ruling
regime, liberty faces the gravest possible danger: that students
of tomorrow are prevented from exploring and knowing truth. Anyone
concerned about the future of liberty has a moral obligation to
join the resistance.
The
ideas of the Austrian School in the 20th century were
subjected to censorship and attack by states left and right. Mises's
books were banned by both Communists and Nazis. This was the fate
of other thinkers in our tradition, from Wilhelm Roepke to F.A.
Hayek. Even in the United States, Austrians have felt the pressure
of political interference, with even the heads of freedom-minded
think tanks hauled before Congressional committees (as happened
in the 1950s). It is expected, then, for Austrians to again be out
front in defense of the rights of intellectuals.
The professors of tomorrow
can either be free to think, research, write, and publish, without
interference by the state or its proxies, or they risk becoming
what Barzun calls commissars with PhDs. There are many great teachers
in academia today. We at the Mises Institute know this; after all,
our programs have assisted in educating many of them, and placing
them where they are today. Now is the time to take the next step,
and defend their right to think and teach. This is why the victory
of Hoppe today is a victory for civilization tomorrow.
Sign
the Hoppe Petition.
February 28, 2005
Llewellyn H. Rockwell, Jr. [send him mail] is president of the Ludwig
von Mises Institute in Auburn, Alabama, editor of LewRockwell.com,
and author of Speaking
of Liberty.
Copyright © 2005 LewRockwell.com
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