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In Defense of Academic Freedom

In Defense of Academic Freedom

The Atlantic22-05-2025

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Why defend academic freedom even when the ideas in question are wrongheaded or harmful? 'It is precisely because any kind of purge opens the gate to all kinds of purge, that freedom of thought necessarily means the freedom to think bad thoughts as well as good.'
Those words, written in 1953 by Joseph Alsop, an alumnus of Harvard who later served on its Board of Overseers, are relevant today, as the Trump administration cancels the visas of foreign students for viewpoints that it deems 'bad.' And they were relevant in recent years as institutions of higher education investigated and disciplined members of their communities for expressing views that ran afoul of various progressive social-justice orthodoxies. But Alsop wrote them in response to the McCarthy era's efforts to identify and punish Communists who were working in academia. Hundreds of professors were summoned by the House Un-American Activities Committee and the Senate Internal Security Subcommittee, forced to appear as witnesses, and pressured to name names––that is, to identify fellow academics with ties to the Communist Party. Many were then censured or fired and blacklisted by their employers.
'I have been profoundly and actively anti-Communist all my life,' Alsop declared in a letter to the president and fellows of Harvard, published in The Atlantic. 'Unfortunately, however, the question that confronts us is not how we feel about Communists and ex-Communists. The question is, rather, how we feel about the three great principles which have run, like threads of gold, through the long, proud Harvard story.'
The first principle he listed was the freedom to make personal choices within the limits of the law. The second principle was 'unrestricted freedom of thought.' And the third principle was one's right to due process when accused of breaking the law. 'A member of our faculty is not to be penalized for any legal choice he may make, however eccentric or controversial,' Alsop wrote. 'He may become a nudist or a Zoroastrian, imitate Origen or adopt the Pythagorean rules of diet. If called before a Congressional investigating committee, he may seek the protection of the Fifth Amendment, and refuse to testify on grounds of possible self-incrimination. However much we disapprove, we may not interfere.'
By standing for 'unrestricted free trade in ideas,' Alsop sought to conserve the university's ability to extend the frontiers of human thought and knowledge at a moment that has long been regarded as one of the darkest in the history of American academia. But as Greg Lukianoff, the president of the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE), documented in a 2023 Atlantic article, the threat to academic freedom today arguably surpasses the threat that existed in the 1950s. 'According to the largest study at the time, about 100 professors were fired over a 10-year period during the second Red Scare for their political beliefs or communist ties,' he wrote. 'We found that, in the past nine years, the number of professors fired for their beliefs was closer to 200.' More recently, FIRE has objected to the Trump administration's infringements on academic freedom, including the unprecedented demands that it sent to Harvard last month.
Supporters of academic freedom have every reason to fear that more colleges will be similarly targeted in coming months. One defense should involve consulting similar situations from bygone eras. Doing so can help identify principles and arguments that have stood the test of time—and it can be a source of hope. After all, the authoritarian excesses of McCarthyism, which intimidated so many, did not long endure. 'From the perspective of the sixties, the whole period has an air of unreality' for many students, a 1965 Harvard Crimson article —written in an era of 'sit-ins, summer projects, and full page ads criticizing U.S. foreign policy placed in the Times by hundreds of academics'—declared. But just several years prior, it pointed out, 'tenured professors thought long and hard before risking a statement on public issues; teaching fellows, fearful of antagonizing Governing Boards, were politically inert; and students retreated into silence and inactivity.'
I hope that, circa 2030, incoming college students will have trouble understanding the mounting attacks on academic freedom that began about a decade ago. Perhaps this period, echoing the Red Scare's aftermath, may yet be followed by a new flourishing of academic freedom. A renaissance of that sort will require defending people's rights—no matter how abhorrent one may find a given opinion. As Alsop put it, 'In these cases the individuals are nothing and the principles are everything.'

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Trump Is Wrong About Birthright Citizenship. History Proves It.
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Trump Is Wrong About Birthright Citizenship. History Proves It.

'All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.' That's the opening line of the Fourteenth Amendment. The vast majority of legal scholars have long understood the clause to confer citizenship on immigrant children born in the United States. But not President Donald Trump. 'This had to do with the babies of slaves,' the president asserted yesterday, at a press conference celebrating a Supreme Court decision that partially clears the way for the administration to end the practice of birthright citizenship, though the attempt will face further legal hurdles. (The court has not ruled on the challenge to birthright citizenship itself, only the ability of lower courts to issue nationwide injunctions against it.) 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Recognizing that they might not enjoy congressional supermajorities in perpetuity, they also sought to enshrine these rights permanently in the Constitution, via the Fourteenth Amendment. But today, Trump contends that the amendment does not apply to immigrants. His argument rests on two conceits: First, that the text of the amendment specifically limits birthright citizenship to 'persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof' — which, conservatives argue, does not include immigrant children, as they owe allegiance to a foreign power and are not fully subject to U.S. sovereign authority. Second, as the president explained on Friday, he believes the framers intended only to confer citizenship on freedmen (retroactively) and their children (prospectively). In effect, they were attempting a constitutional repudiation of the infamous Dred Scott decision, in which the Court in 1857 denied that Black persons could be citizens. 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Trump 'doesn't have an ideology, but if you had to try to sum it up, it's more Jacksonian than isolationist or anti-interventionist,' the adviser told us. Many of the president's advisers told us they believe that his blunt, tough-guy talk and his unpredictable tendencies—akin to Richard Nixon's 'madman theory'—have been effective in establishing deterrence with foreign adversaries. But Trump's volatility has also at times frustrated his own advisers. In 2019, he made an eleventh-hour decision to call off a planned retaliatory strike on Iranian missile batteries in response to the country's downing of a large U.S. drone over the Strait of Hormuz. The decision was based on an estimate of potential casualties on the ground in Iran that one military official said was wildly inaccurate. Then–National Security Adviser John Bolton and Secretary of State Mike Pompeo were aghast at the choice to call off the strike, which they believed was proportionate and would deter future attacks. 'He's capable of changing his mind right up until the very end, and when he's finally decided that the decision has been carried out and he can't reverse it, it's very stressful for him,' Bolton told us. He said the recent Iran strikes tracked with the president's preference for stand-alone, epic actions: 'It fits with his short attention span, and it fits with the fact he doesn't have a philosophy; he doesn't have a grand strategy.' When Bolton worked in the first Trump administration, he was frequently at odds with the president. This time around, Trump has few people questioning his calls. Even those who are leery of foreign entanglement have fallen in line to support the strikes. Vice President J. D. Vance, for instance, has led the charge in recent days in messaging that the Iran operation was not about regime change, but rather the more narrow goal of debilitating the country's nuclear program. Vance is 'going to be supportive of whatever the president wants to do, and there's never going to be any daylight between the two of them, even privately,' the outside adviser told us. Marco Rubio, now serving as secretary of state and national security adviser, has been 'very deferential' to Trump, the adviser added. CIA Director John Ratcliffe, meanwhile, has kept to his position's traditional lane, laying out the intelligence but not pushing any particular policy actions. 'If he is putting his thumb on the scale one way or the other, then people aren't going to trust his intelligence,' the adviser told us. The White House is adamant both that Trump gets the advice he needs and that he never gets his decisions wrong. 'President Trump has assembled a talented, world-class team who evaluate all angles of any given issue to provide the President a fulsome view,' White House Deputy Press Secretary Anna Kelly wrote to us in an emailed statement. 'Ultimately, the President evaluates all options and makes the decision he feels is best for the country—and he has been proven right about everything time and again.' Retired General Frank McKenzie, who commanded U.S. forces in the Middle East when Trump targeted Soleimani, noted that the most dire possible scenarios following the Soleimani strike and after those on the nuclear sites haven't borne out—at least so far. That may be because, in his view, Trump has accrued more credibility than other American presidents when it comes to threatening Iran. 'He's got a verifiable, auditable trail. He struck Iran twice; no other American president has done that,' McKenzie told us. Trump's Iran operation marked an unexpected deviation from what has been his administration's second-term focus on negotiations. Trump has said he wants diplomatic deals that not only halt Iran's nuclear ambitions but also end the wars in Ukraine, Gaza, and beyond. Now Trump may have more leverage in those talks. 'This guy really wanted a negotiation, and now he's done his one-and-done, and he wants to go back to negotiations,' Ian Bremmer, who leads the consultancy and research firm Eurasia Group, told us. One of Trump's more curious moves since returning to office was his decision to authorize a weeks-long air campaign against Houthi rebels in Yemen. The Biden administration had occasionally struck military targets in Yemen but had judged that the Houthis were unlikely to drop their tactic of attacking commercial and naval vessels, no matter what kind of military beating they received. Trump abruptly halted the campaign and declared victory in May, even though the Houthis retain significant military capability and vowed to continue their assaults on Israel. But Trump had moved on. That may not be so easy if Iran resumes its nuclear activity or continues to support proxy militant groups throughout the Middle East. 'You're going to have a hard time ignoring Iran,' the former official told us, 'and it's going to be much harder to change the subject.'

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