Kiryl, Unsplash Most Americans firmly believe that educational institutions should be places where all ideas can be discussed and no one need fear reprisal for saying the wrong thing or pursuing the wrong research topic. That ideal, however, is not embraced by all people. There are powerful forces, here and abroad, that want to dominate education in order to advance their goals. They have no qualms about telling students what they must believe or telling faculty members not to research certain topics. Of course, the leaders of our colleges and universities would never cooperate with those authoritarian forces—or would they?
Our educational leaders are often ready to side with authoritarians when they think doing so can bring in more money and enhance their prestige. In her book Authoritarians in the Academy, Sarah McLaughlin, a senior scholar at the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE), explains that our educational leaders are often ready to side with the authoritarians when they think that doing so can bring in more money and enhance the prestige of their institutions. For them, educational ideals are nice and they always pay lip service to them, but other considerations can take priority. The book abounds in disturbing examples. Here is one of them.
Educational ideals are nice, but other considerations can take priority. In 2022, a group of students at George Washington University (GWU) placed posters that criticized China’s human-rights record and satirized the idea that China should host the Olympics. Their activity prompted a hostile reaction from GWU’s Chinese Students and Scholars Association (CSSA) chapter. It complained to the administration that the posters might incite hatred towards Asian students and went beyond the permissible scope of free expression. The CSSA students demanded that the administration identify and punish those who were responsible for the “insults” to them.
How GWU’s then-president Mark Wrighton responded was shocking. In a statement to the GWU community, he declare that he was “personally offended” by the posters, would have them removed, and would try to find out who was responsible. McLaughlin comments acerbically, “For the students who demanded punishment and censorship, this was quite a victory. Not only did the university’s leader agree to investigate those involved, but he also concurred that the artwork was offensive and unacceptable.”
Rather than defending freedom of speech, Wrighton’s instinct was to try staying on the good side of China. GWU police launched an investigation in response to the “bias report” filed by CSSA, checking surveillance cameras for evidence about the “guilty” students. Administrators even offered “counseling services” for students who claimed to be so upset over criticism of China’s government.
Only after receiving blowback from FIRE and national commentators did Wrighton call off the investigation, which could have put the dissidents in jeopardy if the Chinese government had learned who they were.
Why would an American university president act that way? Because, McLaughlin explains, our universities benefit a great deal from their dealings with China, as well as some other authoritarian nations. Many Chinese students paying full tuition study at them, and the Chinese government may have created other lucrative ties with American schools. This makes possible what McLaughlin terms “sensitivity exploitation,” namely a demand for censorship of political speech because such speech supposedly harms students from the foreign country. The implicit threat is that the flow of foreign money will stop if the school doesn’t cooperate and suppress unwanted criticism.
Sometimes, university leaders have had enough backbone to refuse to go along with sensitivity-exploitation schemes. In 1991, MIT’s then-president Charles Vest set a good example when the Chinese General Counsel wrote to him to say that his government was against allowing the Dalai Lama to speak on campus. Vest replied that he would not cancel the talk, because universities exist “to encourage the exploration and discussion of different, often divergent ideas.” Sadly, when North Carolina State University faced the same situation in 2009, its administration caved to Chinese pressure to disinvite the Dalai Lama.
In that case, the censorship demand came from the university’s Confucius Institute. Confucius Institutes (CI) were established by the Chinese government in cooperation with American colleges as a means of expanding its “soft power” in the United States. A university that accepted a CI would receive funding from China but with strings attached—play along with the portrayal of China as a benevolent, enlightened country or else the money stops. At least with regard to this Chinese project, there is good news. Most of the CIs have been closed as a result of scrutiny from legislators, alums, and others who found it unseemly for the Chinese government to exert leverage on free speech in America. But, McLaughlin says, the Chinese are busy creating new sources of influence here.
American higher-education leaders have been known to silence voices on campus in order to protect a school’s “brand.” While China is the most aggressive of the authoritarian forces, it is not the only nation that uses monetary leverage to stifle criticism. McLaughlin notes that India, Turkey, Qatar, and the United Arab Emirates play the same game.
Not all of the authoritarian influence comes from foreign governments, however. American higher-education leaders have been known to silence voices on campus in order to protect a school’s “brand.” For example, at Truman State University, officials refused to allow formation of a chapter of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA). What could be wrong with that? School officials said they were concerned that allowing PETA on campus would create the possibility of “emotional risk” for some students. Furthermore, PETA activities might create a “reputational risk” for the university. Faced with the choice between free speech and vague worries about risk and reputation, the school came down on the latter side.
Students may think they are free, but they are not. One of the most worrisome aspects of this problem is the phenomenon of American universities opening foreign campuses in countries that are not friendly to freedom of speech and “unapproved” lifestyles. Invariably, American leaders say that the campuses will be run in accordance with our laws and values, but then, behind the scenes, the foreign government undermines those promises. Not only is academic freedom compromised, but students can be in serious danger when they act upon the belief that their school’s foreign campus will safeguard their freedom, just as if they were in their home country.
Unfortunately, that isn’t necessarily true. American (and British) universities often quietly cede authority to the host country with regard to “controversial” subjects. Students may think they are free, but they are not.
McLaughlin relates the horrifying experience of British doctoral student Matt Hedges, who went to the United Arab Emirates (UAE) in 2018 to research that nation’s state-security system. UAE officials knew about him, and, when he landed at the airport, he was arrested, blindfolded, and subjected to weeks of grueling interrogation. Finally, exhausted, he signed the document the officials wanted, acknowledging that he was a British spy. With that coerced confession in hand, the government then sentenced him to life imprisonment. Fortunately, he was released after the British government intervened. But the point had been made. Don’t come here thinking you can poke into the government’s business.
Universities in many countries have groveled before China and other authoritarian regimes, and they continue trying to make lucrative deals so they can boast of having a foreign campus. As McLaughlin writes, this serves to “normalize these abuses.” She doesn’t advocate an end to such relationships but says that our universities must insist that Western concepts of academic freedom be respected in host countries. And colleges must be completely transparent with regard to their arrangements. “Universities should not pursue programs with limitations they are unwilling to discuss truthfully in public,” she writes.
Authoritarians in the Academy is one of those books that turns over a lot of rocks, exposing the unpleasant things going on underneath—in this instance the loss of academic freedom when college officials put money and reputation ahead of principle. The book deserves a wide readership. As Justice Brandeis remarked, “Sunlight is the best disinfectant.” Thanks to Sarah McLaughlin’s efforts, sunlight now shines on lots of disreputable conduct by college leaders.
George Leef is director of external relations at the James G. Martin Center for Academic Renewal.
Author
George Leef
