Fotogurme, Adobe Stock Images In January, a change to UNC System policy that might appear to be merely administrative reopened a longstanding debate about the political oversight of academic knowledge. The issue concerns public access to syllabi—the documents that professors typically prepare for every course they teach, laying out the course’s goals, assignments, and schedule. The new policy stipulates that “each constituent [UNC] institution shall develop an online platform to house syllabi for each course offered in a given semester or session.” Many faculty have objected to the development. The North Carolina Conference of the American Association of University Professors—the main professional organization for American academics—criticized it in a widely circulated petition. The policy, NC AAUP contends, will “endanger students and instructors by inviting political actors to attack the free inquiry on our campuses.”
While the AAUP is understandably alarmed, it goes too far in condemning the syllabus policy out of hand. The NC AAUP petition taps into a very real fear—one to whose genuineness I, as a faculty member, can attest. UNC System president Peter Hans, who supports the syllabus policy, admits that “making course syllabi publicly available will mean hearing feedback and criticism from people who may disagree with what’s being taught or how it’s being presented.” Yet, while the NC AAUP is understandably alarmed (notably due to recent incidents in which faculty have been punished for positions on a range of issues), it goes too far in condemning the syllabus policy out of hand. While making syllabi public will certainly expose them to unproductive criticism, NC AAUP, in raising these concerns, jettisons principles that are essential to academic freedom. The legitimacy of our profession rests, to a significant degree, on our responsibility to the public.
The legitimacy of our profession rests, to a significant degree, on our responsibility to the public. In full disclosure, I have been deeply involved with AAUP on my campus, in North Carolina, and at the national level. AAUP has played an essential role in defining the academic profession in the United States. I have, moreover, enormous respect for faculty members who assume responsibilities in the AAUP. Faculty who defend their profession are frequently disparaged by administrators as “troublemakers” while receiving minimal support from their colleagues. Though I disagree with NC AAUP on this issue, I respect its members’ willingness to take a stand.
That said, syllabus transparency is good for both the public and professors for three reasons.
First, the principle of access to public records is essential to democracy and open government. The case that syllabi designed by faculty at UNC institutions should be considered public records is well-founded. While the national AAUP criticizes the policy for “reclassifying course descriptions and syllabi as public records,” and the NC AAUP petition reproaches the UNC System for “further opening our public universities and colleges to bad-faith critique and extremist threats” from organizations (including the Martin Center) that request access to the syllabi, these complaints are far from the most important issue at stake. At a time when so many citizens—and professors—are concerned about the state of our democracy, I am surprised that a principle as central to democratic life as public-records laws arouses such skepticism. North Carolina’s General Statutes §132-1 declares: “The public records and public information compiled by the agencies of North Carolina government or its subdivisions are the property of the people.” It is on this basis that the statute declares that “the people may obtain copies of their public records and public information free or at minimal cost unless otherwise specifically provided by law.”
Obeying this law hardly amounts to yielding to “bad-faith critique and extremist threats”—or (as the national AAUP breathlessly puts it) to “dark money-funded right-wing activists and their allies in the UNC System.” Far from being a right-wing conspiracy, General Statute §132 was originally passed as the Public Records Law in 1935, at the height of the New Deal. A major force behind the 1975 amendments to the law (which extended its provisions to electronic records) was the nonpartisan government-accountability organization Common Cause—a dubious stand-in for “right-wing activists.”
A prominent public official had the following to say about the North Carolina statute: “It is critical that public agencies understand and follow this law that gives you the right to know what state and local government officials are doing on your behalf. After all, it is your government.” The “extremist” in question was Josh Stein, the former Democratic attorney general and current Democratic governor. Of course, the NC AAUP’s argument is not new: Since the law’s enactment, various entities have sought exemption from it. In a landmark case from 1992, a commission appointed by the president of the UNC System (the Poole Commission, which investigated improprieties relating to NC State’s basketball team) was sued for failure to release its internal records. In its decision, the North Carolina Supreme Court reaffirmed the statute’s broad definition: “We hold that in the absence of clear statutory exemption or exception, documents falling within the definition of ‘public records’ in the Public Records Act must be made available for public inspection.” The decision was written by Chief Justice Jim Exum, whose commitment to civil rights and criminal-justice reform led one scholar to describe him as North Carolina’s answer to Earl Warren.
It is difficult, in short, to see how UNC System syllabi would not be subject to the public-records statute. As an overview of the law published by UNC-Chapel Hill’s School of Government notes, case law has upheld the view that the term “public records” “includes any material kept in carrying out an agency’s lawful duties.” My university’s academic regulations state that “a syllabus is to be prepared for each course and distributed at the first of the semester.” A syllabus is clearly “material” that is produced and preserved in fulfilling the UNC System’s “lawful duties” of educating North Carolina’s citizens.
It is difficult, in short, to see how UNC System syllabi would not be subject to the public-records statute. Rather than seeking to shield syllabi from public exposure, it would make more sense for NC AAUP to insist on other parties—notably administrators and politicians—being subject to them, as well. Indeed, the strongest argument against the syllabus policy is that it is subjecting faculty to a law that others refuse to obey. The UNC System and some of its campuses (notably UNC-Chapel Hill) have a long history of shirking their responsibilities under the public-records law and the closely related public-meetings law. A lawsuit filed last year by Chapel Hill’s former provost alleges that the university’s Board of Trustees conducted official business on an electronic platform that allowed trustees to avoid the public scrutiny the law is meant to ensure. Even the North Carolina General Assembly has passed legislation to shield itself from the public-records law. The problem with NC AAUP’s position is that it places itself objectively on the same side as Chapel Hill’s board and the legislature. Granted, its arguments are not identical, but their goal is similar: to spare a specific group the inconvenience of transparency.
Professors are entitled to academic freedom because they are accountable to the public and not to private interests. The second reason faculty should support the new syllabus policy is that it is based on principles that are constitutive of academic freedom. The charter document of academic freedom in the United States is the AAUP’s 1915 Declaration of Principles. The declaration asks, in a sense, “Who owns academic knowledge?” Unlike earlier generations of intellectuals, who sought patronage or had to live off of their own means, professors must be paid. In some cases, those who pay own the knowledge. This is what AAUP calls “proprietary colleges or universities,” which have been charged with “the propagation of specific doctrines.” Examples include religious colleges or the universities of the old Communist bloc. But what of universities that, rather than advocating a particular creed, promote “freedom of inquiry, of opinion, and of teaching” and “unrestricted research and unfettered discussion of impartial investigation”? At such institutions, a professor’s authority derives not from a proprietary obligation but from responsibility to the public. The 1915 declaration states, “Trustees of such universities or colleges have no moral right to bind the reason or the conscience of any professor.” Professors, in other words, are entitled to academic freedom because they are accountable to the public and not to private interests. It follows that the public have a reasonable right to know what faculty teach—providing, of course, that the public does not use this right to assert proprietary claims of its own.
To bring in a little political philosophy, one might say that the contemporary professoriate’s instincts are grounded in the outlook of Thomas Hobbes. They see the world as dangerous and threatening (the national AAUP claims that “Peter Hans’ regulation amounts to a doxxing database”), so they would prefer an academic regime that reins in academic freedom—keeping it a “safe” and sedate affair confined to private and comfy settings—while offering robust protection (“critics” of all stripes, beware!). Yet, as the 1915 declaration makes clear, academic freedom is far more rooted in the thought of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. For Rousseau, the only freedom worthy of its name is one in which we are willing to subject our personal views to public scrutiny. This does not mean that the tyranny of the majority should prevail, but neither should we see academic work as a purely esoteric pursuit that publicly funded bodies have mysteriously opted to support.
In the name of defending academic freedom, the NC AAUP petition undermines its public anchoring. It conceives of teaching as a proprietary activity—that is, as the private property of professors rather than an activity whose very purpose is its service to the public. Many academics have bemoaned the fact that, in recent years, public institutions have been privatized in various ways—through the commercialization of college athletics, the outsourcing of academic programs, and the rise of an administrative caste more concerned with their CEO-like career prospects than with loyalty to their institutions. It is disappointing to see the AAUP, an organization with such a long history of promoting public higher education, succumbing to these regrettable trends.
The final reason why the syllabus policy is necessary is that faculty need to be willing to stand before the public. What surprises me about the NC AAUP petition is how completely it goes against professors’ core instincts. Academia is an ego-based profession. Our grad-school mentors teach us to brag; universities give awards for everything; many faculty use their email signatures to tout their publications and accomplishments. It takes a public-records request from a conservative think tank to make us modest.
More seriously, if we want to defend the embattled professoriate, we need to double-down on our commitment to the public—and not hide from it. It is well known that public confidence in higher education has plummeted, in large part because professors are seen as promoting their own views. I believe that the vast majority of my colleagues are not pushing an ideological agenda and are genuinely committed to educating students and promoting knowledge. But to make this case, we must be willing to defend our work in the court of public opinion.
But this presence before the public should also come with protection. In other states, public universities have adopted robust policies to protect faculty from trolling and doxxing attacks. The University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign clearly acknowledges this problem: “Nationally, unfair attacks on scholars as well as unauthorized release of their personal information have increased, often in social media, on message boards, and through other online forums.” It recognizes that these “‘trolling/doxxing attacks’ can be professionally disruptive and personally difficult.” To guide faculty in dealing with such attacks, UIUC has published a special brochure that outlines university protocols for threat assessment, reporting, and response to support faculty who become the target of attacks.
The UNC System should consider a similar move. Yet, whether or not it does, teaching is an inherently public vocation. Whatever the motives of the new syllabus policy, it serves as a useful reminder of this essential truth.
Michael C. Behrent is a professor of history at Appalachian State University.
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Michael C. Behrent
