Self-Pity and the Universities

Two somewhat contradictory remarks, made a few weeks ago by the national commander of the American Legion, illustrate more clearly than any abstract editorial generalizations the present status of academic freedom in this country. Addressing two Legion posts gathered in New York's Madison Square Park for a Memorial Day service, Mr. Ray Murphy voiced the dire prediction that if this nation were ever overcome by Russia, "a lot of American citizens, most of them college graduates, would be ready, able, and willing to staff the new satellite of the Soviet."

And a few breaths later, Mr. Murphy added his opinion that "too few of our leaders have an adequate knowledge or conception of the tactics and strategy of communism in America today."

As Mr. Murphy meant them, these sentences are not at all contradictory. The knowledge of Communism to which he refers is the kind held by every homegrown demagogue who can "spot a Red when he sees one" and is quick to pin the label on even some of the ones he can't see. But the more responsible agencies of government long ago recognized the extent to which they must rely on the academic world for a knowledge of the strengths and weaknesses of the nation's enemies. Symbols of this policy, begun long before World War II, are institutions such as Harvard's Russian Research Center, which is supplying the ideas for the psychological counter-offensive against the U.S.S.R. Even more extensive is the use of the natural scientist; as war grows more destructive, the scientist has increasingly assumed a policy-making role. In domestic affairs, it is significant that the Supreme Court, in outlawing segregation last month, based its opinion not on judicial precedent, but on the findings of scores of social scientists.

But if the position of the intellectual is influential, it is also precarious. That the words "academic freedom" and "free inquiry" are in many quarters regarded as little more than cliches is evidence of this split status. The pressure is to conform, but it is only too plain that a Russian Research Center report slanted to fit the views of a particular political party is more than worthless-it becomes a positive danger. And when a natural scientist finds that his fitness is estimated by the degree of enthusiasm he shows for a project, the national interest will suffer from the enforced conformity of his fellow scientists in the future. In its more extreme form, this pressure shows itself in book burning, loyalty oaths, committee investigations, faculty firings, and super-caution.

Three Reactions to Pressure

To all this, there have been three noticeable reactions within the universities. First is the frequent use of the Fifth Amendment by professors when questioned about past activities. The discredit which this Constitutional safeguard has suffered is extremely unfortunate, for in the eyes of a great majority of the nation's population, its use is synonymous with the veiling of hidden guilt.

We realize that many innocent men in recent years have chosen to invoke the Fifth Amendment as a means of protesting the injustice of the investigations. The ethical decision in such a choice is one which each man must make for himself. Nevertheless, we feel that an innocent man who uses the Fifth Amendment as a shield is doing himself and his cause a great dis-service. A shadow hangs over the academic world today; part of it is self inflicted. Those who testify freely are too often branded as appeasers by their colleagues. One professor, however, who gives full and thoughtful testimony will usually do more to educate a committee and the general public than will the silence of a host of men invoking the Fifth Amendment.

The second reaction to the pressures of anti-intellectualism is that the academic world, instead of turning outward to fight, has often turned in upon itself, seeking refuge in the collective sympathy of its own kind. This attitude produces a result more subtle than a refusal to testify and is insidious because of this subtlety. It is always easier to conform than to take an individual stand, and now it is easy to blame conformity on the so-called "climate of fear." University administrators, men of the academic world themselves, say that they would not fire this or that professor were it not for the dangerous publicity they would incur by retaining him. Condemning the public and public opinion, yet capitulating to it, these men find a ready excuse for the conformity which they deplore in the abstract.

The third and by far the preferable reaction is not acquiescence, nor is it the rabid, alarm-filled articles that have come from many sources. Possibly there was a need for the alarmist cries a few years ago, when the danger of reckless investigations had just become apparent. But too often the cries have turned to cliches; instead of pointing to danger, they minimize it by their tired aspect of "cry wolf."

Scatter-gun, wholesale accusations are not the way to protect academic freedom. Instead, the universities should fight each case, individually, as it comes up. In the pages of this issue is some record of cases that have been fought by administrations, but many more that have not been. The universities must realize that the perfect case will never come. There will not be situations in which a man's guilt or innocence is so clear-cut or that a choice is easy. If a university will refuse to fight until it finds conclusive evidence of a man's innocence, it will never rise up to its own defense. Instead, if a university administration feels that one of its professors under attack is more right than wrong, it should stand firm and retain him.

The alarmists are right only in that there is much to fear today. But if the academic world were to grant the conclusion that there is little or no hope, the baleful predictions might well come true. When more universities reject self-pity and take instead a forthright stand against each unfounded attack, then education can match, in its own defense, that spirit of progress and initiative which has marked its advance in every other intellectual endeavor.