With regard to what is commonly meant by intemperate
discussion, namely invective, sarcasm, personality, and the like, the
denunciation of these weapons would deserve more sympathy if it were ever
proposed to interdict them equally to both sides; but it is only desired to
restrain the employment of them against the prevailing opinion; against the
unprevailing, they may not only be used without general disapproval, but will
be likely to obtain for him who uses them the praise of honest zeal and
righteous indignation.
- John Stuart Mill, On Liberty
The notion of academic freedom captures several
distinct claims. It asserts that academic peers are best placed to judge
scholarly competence and accordingly that on all such professional matters they
should be granted autonomy. This component of academic freedom is designed to
preempt extra-scholarly considerations from tainting employment decisions.
Beyond the right to professional autonomy, academic freedom also asserts that
pursuit of the life of the mind requires complete liberty of thought. Insofar
as the academic community is devoted to attaining truth, its mission cannot be
realized if barriers restrict the mind from meandering down paths of inquiry
less traveled. The right of an academic to liberty of thought additionally
means that outside the professional setting, scholars should enjoy the ordinary
rights of a democratic citizen to speak their minds and accordingly that
extramural utterances should not bear on the assessment of professional
competence. Historically, the great battles over academic freedom in the United
States were fought first to free university life from the hold of clerical bias
(sponsored by private denominations, American colleges were originally the
“ward of religion”), then economic bias (in particular, corporate
interference),[i] and then political bias (the periodic Red Scares climaxing in
McCarthyism).[ii]
Even if fully redeemed, academic freedom is not quite
so unfettered as it might appear prima facie. Insofar as your colleagues decide
your competence, you won’t survive the academic vetting process very long if
they are of the decided opinion that your speculations, however copiously
documented and compellingly advanced, lack scholarly merit. Ruling the roost,
successful academics develop a stake in the intellectual status quo. In fields
that are highly politicized, these academics, most of whom have reconciled with
the reigning orthodoxy, reflexively quash or, at any rate, look askance at
dissent. In practice, professional autonomy and liberty of thought mean that,
until gaining admittance to the community of arbiters, you can express
heretical ideas in the academy so long as your advisors approve your
dissertation; so long as refereed journals approve your articles for publication;
so long as expert readers for university presses recommend your manuscripts for
publication; and so long as, once entering the marketplace of ideas, your
publications are well received among authorities in the field.[iii]
The most urgent problems
regarding liberty of speech arise not from what can and can’t be said within
the university but what can and can’t be said outside it.
Having said this, it is nonetheless my impression
that academia is a relatively freewheeling place so long as one’s opinions are
kept within university confines. Rightwing commentators who declaim against
liberal bias in many (if politically the most innocuous) departments of higher
education are not far off the mark. If you stick to speaking only at academic
conferences, publishing only in academic journals, and being formally
deferential to your academic colleagues, pretty much anything goes, at any
rate, at non-elite academic institutions, where faculty opinions have no public
resonance. Just as the number of persons denied tenure each year on
political grounds is, in my opinion, greatly exaggerated, so are the
allegations of “academic McCarthyism” and assaults on academic freedom. If many
choose along the way to forsake the academic track, it is not because they feel
intellectually stifled, but because they prudentially decide that the
sacrifices are not worth the meager rewards (not least in salary), and because
academia is such a petty place rife with cliques and cabals, backbiting and
back-stabbing, preening and posturing. Probably the
only true thing Henry Kissinger said was, “University politics are so vicious
precisely because the stakes are so small.” [MikeNichols+DianeSawyer &
Soderbergh.]
The most urgent problems regarding liberty of speech
arise not from what can and can’t be said within the university but what can
and can’t be said outside it. Apart from the constraints that professional
autonomy imposes on intellectual inquiry, the social status conferred on
academics may also impose limits on what they might say. Put otherwise, what
you utter in your civilian life might be, or appear to be, so offensive to
current sensibilities, so unbecoming your professional stature—so uncivil—that
it will jeopardize your right to teach. If such a
conflict rarely arises nowadays it is because most self-described dissenting
academics inhabit a politically correct cocoon world, where the more bizarre
one’s personal orientation, the more protected one is, especially if one loudly
complains how oppressed one is. But if an
academic steps into the public sphere and gives vent to genuinely heterodox
opinions, it is at his or her peril.
It is highly improbable that the Israel lobby would
have waged such a vicious campaign to deny me tenure had I restricted myself to
an academic milieu. In fact, by the current standards of the ivory tower my
opinions on the Israel-Palestine conflict are quite tame: I do not oppose a
two-state settlement, I do not extenuate Palestinian terrorism, and I do not
define myself as anti-Zionist. What provoked the national hysteria was my
political activism. I wanted and was able to reach a fairly wide audience
while, worse still, appearing reasonable. Meanwhile the lobby’s arsenal of conventional
smears—“anti-Semite,” “Holocaust denier,” “crackpot”—wouldn’t adhere: I was
Jewish, my parents survived the Nazi holocaust, and my professional credentials
withstood scrutiny. In an earlier epoch but on a truly grand scale, the eminent
British philosopher Bertrand Russell too endured the tribulations of a
dissident public intellectual.
The Bertrand Russell Case
In 1940 Russell was appointed to the philosophy
department at the College of the City of New York. Almost immediately the
Catholic Church and rightwing forces orchestrated a witch-hunt on account of
Russell’s heretical opinions on religion and morality expressed in publications
geared to a popular audience. A lawsuit was filed against the City of New York
to rescind Russell’s appointment on the grounds of his being “lecherous,
libidinous, lustful, venerous, erotomaniac, aphrodisiac, irreverent,
narrow-minded, untruthful and bereft of moral fiber.”[iv] In short, he was
alleged to be a pervert. Despite an outpouring of support from his former students,
leading lights of higher education, and the liberal public, the court decided
against Russell. “This appointment affects the public health, safety and morals
of the community,” the judge stated in his opinion,
“and it is the duty of the court to act. Academic
freedom does not mean academic license. It is the freedom to do good and not to
teach evil. Academic freedom cannot authorize a teacher to teach that murder or
treason are good…The appointment of Dr. Russell is an insult to the people of
the city of New York…in effect establishing a chair of indecency.”[v]
Morally serious faculty members feel obliged to
justify public statements or actions that appear outrageous rather than wave
off criticism as “none of your business.”
Russell’s advocates pursued two seemingly
complementary but really contradictory lines of defense. Some, such as John
Dewey, mainly argued that the accusations were false and defamatory, Russell’s
actual opinions having been grossly distorted by the court.[vi] His advocates said
that he was of unimpeachable character in every respect. Others, such as
Russell himself, mainly argued that his opinions on religion and morality were
beside the point because he was hired to teach mathematics, logic and the
philosophy of science. In other words, it was of no account even if his
opinions were perverted.
It must be said that, however much the judge might
have hyperbolized, Russell’s opinions on sexual mores did—by the public
sensibilities of his time—constitute an outrage. The claim of Russell’s
defenders that the court lifted all his opinions out of context was
disingenuous. “Exhibit A” for the prosecution and the judge was Russell’s book
Marriage and Morals (1929; reprinted, New York: 1970). Alongside many lyrical
passages on love and sex quoted by his defenders, one could also read:
“this law [barring homosexuality] is the effect of a
barbarous and ignorant superstition, in favor of which no rational argument of
any sort or kind can be advanced” (pp. 110-11);
“it is good for children to see each other and their
parents naked whenever it so happens naturally” (p. 116);
“uninhibited civilized people, whether men or women,
are generally polygamous in their instincts” (p. 139);
“where a marriage is fruitful and both parties to it
are reasonable and decent the expectation ought to be that it will be lifelong,
but not that it will exclude other sex relations” (p. 142);
“I do not think that prostitution can be abolished
wholly” (p. 148);
“I think that all sex relations which do not involve
children should be regarded as a purely private affair, and that if a man and a
woman choose to live together without having children, that should be no one’s
business but their own” (pp. 165-66);
“I should not hold it desirable that either a man or
a woman should enter upon the serious business of marriage…without having had
previous sexual experience” (p. 166);
“No doubt the ideal father is better than none, but
many fathers are so far from ideal that their non-existence might be a positive
advantage to children” (pp. 196-97);
“Adultery in itself should not, to my mind, be a
ground for divorce. Unless people are restrained by inhibitions or strong moral
scruples, it is very unlikely that they will go through life without
occasionally having strong impulses to adultery” (p. 230).
In addition to these politically incorrect opinions
for his time, Russell also expressed many politically incorrect opinions for
our time:
“during [the 19th century] the British stock was
peopling large parts of the world previously inhabited by a few savages” (p.
245);
“one can generally tell whether a man is a clever man
or a fool by the shape of his head” (p. 256);
“The objections to [sterilization] which one
naturally feels are, I believe, not justified. Feeble-minded women, as everyone
knows, are apt to have enormous numbers of illegitimate children, all, as a
rule, wholly worthless to the community….it is quite clear that the number of
idiots, imbeciles, and feeble-minded could, by such measures, be enormously
diminished” (pp. 258-59);
“In extreme cases there can be little doubt of the
superiority of one race to another. North America, Australia and New Zealand
certainly contribute more to the civilization of the world than they would do
if they were still peopled by aborigines. It seems on the whole fair to regard
negroes as on the average inferior to white men, although for work in the
tropics they are indispensable, so that their extermination (apart from
questions of humanity) would be highly undesirable” (p. 266).
It must also be noted that, following Dewey’s line of
defense, if what was alleged about Russell’s opinions were true, it would be
grounds for stripping him of his academic post.[vii] Russell himself could not
have been pleased with this inference because it hit too close to home, which
is perhaps why he primarily based his defense not on the court’s mangling of
his opinions but on their irrelevance to his academic calling:
“I claim two things: 1. that appointments to academic
posts should be made by people with some competence to judge a man’s technical
qualifications; 2. that in extra-professional hours a teacher should be free to
express his opinions, whatever they may be.”[viii]
And yet more emphatically Russell wrote, in a letter
to The New York Times that lent him only tepid support, “In a democracy it is necessary
that people should learn to endure having their sentiments outraged.”[ix]
How tenable is Russell’s position? In my opinion, not
very. A collection of articles in defense of Russell included this sober reflection
of a school administrator, which merits lengthy quotation:
As a reductio ad absurdum, think of trying to retain
on any faculty teachers who openly advocate … the assassination of the
President. …[T]here is always a limit. The teacher who thinks that this limit
does not apply to him is not facing reality. The administrator must necessarily
take this fact into account in employing and retaining faculty members. He must
recognize that neither students nor the public will segregate a man’s teachings
in one field from his general teachings, his statements in class from his
public pronouncements, his philosophy from his life. He must recognize that,
whether or not it ought to be so, students and public consider that the
appointment of a teacher places a stamp of approval on him as a whole; it
invests him with a prestige which seems to justify youth in considering him an
example whom it might be well to follow. The teacher must be considered in his
entirety. This does not mean that he must be a plaster saint, but it means that
his assets must clearly outweigh his liabilities.[x]
I find it hard to quarrel with this opinion either as
a factual statement—for better or worse a professor will not be judged only on
his professional competence[xi]—or as a normative one—because students often
defer to the moral authority of a professor and because the title professor
carries unique moral prestige, a professor ought to acquit himself in a morally
responsible fashion. It cannot be plausibly maintained that a scholar, however
gifted, who advocates the desirability of “lynching niggers” would, or should,
be granted an academic post. Indeed, ought not professors take pride in the
social capital invested in them and conduct themselves in a manner commensurate
with this honor? Every responsible professor intuitively understands this. It
is why we are embarrassed by a faculty member who in word or deed demeans the
stature of the profession—i.e., carries on in public like an ass. It is also
why morally serious faculty members feel obliged to justify public statements
or actions that appear outrageous rather than wave off criticism as “none of
your business.” The realistic and responsible question then becomes: What sorts
of conduct should be reckoned unacceptable and accordingly liable to censure
and sanction?
Before turning to this question I want to enter a
crucial caveat. In the ensuing remarks I will be addressing legitimate
constraints on speech outside the classroom. Inside the classroom I am rather
old-fashioned on what is and is not proper. A lectern should not serve as a
soapbox, a classroom should not be a venue for indoctrination, a professor
should not be the conveyer belt for a party/politically correct line. Plato said, “The object of education is to teach us to love
what is beautiful.”[xii] It is not the worst aphorism, although I prefer a
slightly amended, less authoritarian version: The object of education is to
teach us to love the mind at play—while minds fully realized will probably
concur on the beauty of many things. On most topics in the social
sciences—really, social ideologies—arguments can be made on both sides and it
is nearly always a question of weighing and balancing, of preponderances, not
absolutes. There might be consensus on the evil of violent genocide and the
inhumanity of chattel slavery, but no such consensus exists on the evil of capitalism, which
arguably causes millions to perish each year from hunger and
preventable diseases, and the inhumanity of wage slavery, Chaplin’s Modern
Times notwithstanding. Although the issue of torture once appeared
closed, it has now been reopened. So long as an enduring consensus does not
exist on a particular topic, a professor should feel obliged to make the best
case for all sides and let students find truth after weighing and balancing for
themselves. “The university educates the intellect to reason well in all
matters,” John Cardinal Newman wrote, “to reach
out towards truth, and to grasp it.”[xiii] And the discovery of this truth “has
to be made by the rough process of a struggle between combatants fighting under
hostile banners” (Mill).[xiv] A professor must play both combatants—the
advocate and the devil’s advocate. Insofar as the human psyche is so contrived
that few are capable of playing a full-fledged devil’s advocate (i.e., making
the very best case against themselves), it is vital that a student be exposed
to those who are willing from conviction to play devil’s advocate. My primary
responsibility in the classroom is to stimulate, not to dictate.
If invited to deliver a public lecture, however, I
see my task as mainly to present my viewpoint, the results of my own process of
weighing and balancing, just as others are invited to present theirs. The
distinction might be analogized to the news pages versus the editorial pages of
a newspaper.
Incivility in Public Life
I want to look now at varieties of incivility in
public life. Consider first statements that might appear uncivil but which are
nonetheless factually grounded. On the Charlie Rose television program, investigative
journalist Allan Nairn claimed that the assistant secretary of state for Latin
America during the Reagan administration, Elliott Abrams, should be prosecuted
as a war criminal under the Nuremberg statutes, while Noam Chomsky has asserted
that on the basis of the Nuremberg statutes every U.S. president since World
War II would have been hung. In and of themselves such statements are no more
objectionable than calling Slobodan Milosevic and Saddam Hussein war criminals.
It is an altogether separate matter whether the statements are factually
accurate: Nairn and Chomsky might be guilty of misrepresentation, recklessness,
or libel, but not incivility. Likewise, it is not ad hominem to accuse Jewish
organizations and lawyers of turning the Nazi holocaust into a blackmail
weapon, as I did in my book The Holocaust Industry: Reflections on the
exploitation of Jewish suffering, or to accuse a professor of being a
plagiarist and falsifier of documents, as I did in Beyond Chutzpah. Such
allegations denote definite crimes and misdemeanors, the veracity of which is
subject to proof or disproof.
Consider next statements which are uncivil but might
nonetheless be warranted by the circumstances. I want to emphasize that I am
referring to incivilities directed against those wielding power and privilege.
I see no virtue in holding up to ridicule and contempt the poor and powerless,
the humbled, hungry, and homeless. Again, Chomsky dubbed Jeane Kirkpatrick
“chief sadist in residence of the Reagan Administration.”[xv] Kirkpatrick was
serving as U.S. ambassador to the United Nations, where she whitewashed
atrocities being committed by the U.S. government and its proxies in Central
America. [George Clooney. Steven Soderbergh.] Such a turn of phrase might
be uncivil but under the circumstances hardly objectionable. Young people in
particular yearn for a respected moral figure to speak the impolite and
impolitic truth, to give vent to the purity of moral indignation they feel the
occasion warrants. There are moments that might require breaking free of the
shackles imposed by polite discourse in order to sound the tocsin that innocent
people are being butchered while we speak due to the actions of our government.
The
problem is not uncivil words but an uncivil reality; and uncivil words might be
necessary in order to bring home the uncivil reality. An ad hominem
attack should not be a substitute for reasoned thought—and no one would accuse
Chomsky of failing to argue his case or footnote it—but neither should a cri de
coeur, however astringent, be ruled beyond the ambit of legitimate public
discourse.
Beyond being a vehicle to convey moral indignation,
incivility might also serve to expose pretense, fatuity, and charlatanry.
It is also pertinent to
recall that Chomsky’s caustic phrase appeared in a book pitched to a popular
audience. It might be the case that in content and form a publication
hovers on the juncture between the civility of the ivory tower and the
tempestuousness of the town square, and an author might want to reach these two
constituencies at once. There is no necessary contradiction between the stolid
scholar who meets the most exigent standards of academic protocol and the
scrappy scholar who leaps headlong into the public fray. Karl Marx appraised Das Kapital a “triumph of German
science,”[xvi] while even conservative economists such as Joseph Schumpeter
reckoned Marx an “economist of top rank.”[xvii] Nonetheless, as Frederick
Engels recalled at his comrade’s funeral, Marx wrote not just for “historical
science” but also for the “militant proletariat”; he was “the man of science”
but “before all else a revolutionary.”[xviii] Indeed, Marx applauded the French
publisher’s serialization of Das Kapital, for “in this form the book will be more accessible to the working class,
a consideration which to me outweighs everything else.”[xix]
It scarcely surprises then that Marx’s magnum opus
seamlessly interweaves scholarly detachment and highbrow literary allusion with
partisan polemic and lowbrow lampoon—or, in Schumpeter’s colorful phrase, “the cold metal of economic theory is in Marx’s pages
immersed in such a wealth of steaming phrases as to acquire a temperature not
naturally its own.”[xx] Bastiat is a “dwarf economist,” Young “a
rambling, uncritical writer whose reputation is inversely related to his
merits,” and MacCulloch “a past master…of pretentious cretinism”; Say’s
standpoint is one of “absurdity and triviality,” Roscher “seldom loses the
opportunity of rushing into print with ingenious apologetic fantasies,” while
Ganilh’s tome is “cretinous,” “miserable,” and “twaddle.” Even—and, in my opinion, inexcusably—Mill wasn’t spared
Marx’s verbal rapier: “On a level plain, simple mounds look like hills;
and the insipid flatness of our present bourgeoisie is to be measured by the
altitude of its ‘great intellect.’” As for the subject of Marx’s scientific
treatise, “Capital is dead labor which, vampire-like, lives only by sucking
living labor, and lives the more, the more labor it sucks,” and came into the
world “dripping from head to toe, from every pore, with blood and dirt.”[xxi]
On the general question of partisanship and passion in scholarship, it merits
quoting a top-rank intellect of vastly different temperament whom we have
already encountered. “A man without a bias cannot write
interesting history,” Bertrand Russell observed, “if, indeed, such a man
exists. I regard it as mere humbug to pretend to lack of bias….Which bias is
nearer to the truth must be left to posterity.”[xxii]
Beyond being a vehicle to convey moral indignation,
incivility might also serve to expose pretense, fatuity, and charlatanry.
Doesn’t the person proclaiming the emperor’s nakedness belong to an honorable
tradition? When Steven Katz sets out to demonstrate
that The Holocaust was “phenomenologically unique” in a “non-Husserlian,
non-Shutzean, non-Schelerian, non-Heideggerian, non-Merleau-Pontyan sense,” it
would seem fair game for the tag line, “Translation: The Katz enterprise is
phenomenal non-sense.”[xxiii]
It is also cause for wonder why the clever, witty, or
erudite putdown that is a staple of academic life should be preferred over
incivility of language. Henry Louis Gates juxtaposes
a pair of statements hypothetically addressed to a Black freshman at Stanford:
(A) Levon, if you find yourself struggling in your
classes here, you should realize it isn’t your fault. It’s simply that you’re
the beneficiary of a disruptive policy of affirmative action that places
underqualified, underprepared, and often undertalented black students in
demanding educational environments like this one. The policy’s egalitarian aims
may be well-intentioned but given the fact that aptitude tests place
African-Americans almost a full standard deviation below the mean, even
controlling for socioeconomic disparities, they are also profoundly misguided.
The truth is, you probably don’t belong here, and your college experience will
be a long downhill slide.
(B) Out of my face, jungle bunny.
“Surely there is no doubt,” Gates concludes, “which
is likely to be more ‘wounding’ and alienating.”[xxiv] He wants to illustrate
the inherent inadequacies of politically correct speech codes, but the point
might fairly be broadened to embrace the issue of incivility as well. I see no
reason to prefer polished insults that, as Gates shows, might be more vicious
and hurtful, to blunt language. Indeed, such stylishness is more often than not
testament to a self-indulgent verbal pedantry and lack of a moral core.
In this regard the hypocritical use to which the
incivility charge is typically put deserves mention. During my tenure battle
Professor Alan Dershowitz posted on Harvard Law
School’s official website the allegation that my late
mother [MarylaHurstFinkelstein] was—or I believed she was—“a
kapo” who had been “cooperating with the Nazis during the Holocaust.” For
the record, my late mother was a survivor of the Warsaw Ghetto, Maidanek
concentration camp and two slave-labor camps. She lost every member of her
family during the war and after the war served as a key witness at a Nazi
deportation hearing in the U.S. and at the trial of Maidanek concentration camp
guards in Germany. In a decent world Dershowitz’s crude and conscious
defamation would, I think, be deserving of censure. He
not only suffered no sanctions but then-Harvard Law School Dean (and current U.S.
Supreme Court Justice) Elena Kagan refused to remove
his posting from the HLS website.[xxv]
I have acknowledged that the extramural life of an
academic is bound to be, and should be, subject to some constraints. There are
forms of incivility that might degrade a position on which society has
conferred prestige and on which its principal constituency—students—rightly
have higher than normal expectations. However, in nearly all the examples I
have adduced—which draw from politics, not the more problematic domain of
social mores—I either exculpate or extenuate an alleged incivility. Indeed, it
is my opinion that the supposed incivility of political dissidents pales beside
what normally passes for civility in academic life. When
you consider that our best universities eagerly recruit indubitable war
criminals—Henry Kissinger, Jeane Kirkpatrick, Donald Rumsfeld; when you consider that many professors—as Edward Said put it,
referring to the Vietnam War era—“were discovered to be working, sometimes
secretly and sometimes openly, on such topics as counterinsurgency and ‘lethal
research’ for the State Department, the CIA, or the Pentagon”;[xxviii] when you
consider that a professor at one of our best universities advocates torture and
the automatic destruction of villages after a terrorist attack: when you
consider all this, it becomes clear that, however real, the question of
civility—whether or not a dissident academic abides by Emily Post’s rules of
etiquette—is by comparison a meaningless sideshow or just a transparent pretext
for denying a person the right to teach on account of his or her political
beliefs.
With permission from the author, this article was
edited and adapted from an earlier version published in the South Atlantic
Quarterly, Fall 2009. It was written after the author’s controversial tenure
denial case at DePaul University in Chicago.
[i] The classic account is Richard Hofstadter and Walter P. Metzger, The Development of Academic Freedom in the
United States (New York: 1955) (“ward” at p. 114). The landmark battles
to emancipate American higher education from clerical authority unfolded during
the Darwinian revolution in the late nineteenth century, and from corporate
authority as labor mobilized at the turn of the century. Broadly speaking, the
scientific revolution brought home the desiderata of professional autonomy and
freedom of inquiry (ibid., chap. vii), while the juggernaut of “big business”
brought into sharp relief the precariousness of an academic’s extramural rights
as a citizen (ibid., chap. ix, esp. p. 434).
[ii] Ellen W. Schrecker, No
Ivory Tower: McCarthyism and the universities (Oxford: 1986).
[iii] Louis Menand, “The Limits
of Academic Freedom,” in Louis Menand (ed), The Future of Academic Freedom
(Chicago: 1996), p. 9.
[iv] Horace M. Kallen, “Behind the Bertrand Russell
Case,” in John Dewey and Horace M. Kallen (eds), The Bertrand Russell Case (New
York: 1972), p. 20.
[v] “Decision of Justice McGeehan,” in ibid., pp.
222, 225.
[vi] John Dewey, “Social Realities versus Police
Court Fictions,” in Dewey and Kallen, pp. 57-74.
[vii] Dewey seems to concede this by indirection; see
his “Social Realities,” in Dewey and Kallen, esp. pp. 66-67.
[viii] Bertrand Russell, Autobiography (New York:
1998), p. 474.
[ix] Bertrand Russell, Why I Am Not a Christian, and
other essays on religion and related subjects, edited, with an appendix on the
“Bertrand Russell Case,” by Paul Edwards (New York: 1957), pp. 252-55. The New York Times editorialized that Russell “should have
had the wisdom to retire from the appointment as soon as its harmful effects
became evident.”
[x] Carleton Washburne, “The Case As a School
Administrator Sees It,” in Dewey and Kallen, pp. 161-62.
[xi] In part this stems from a peculiarity of
American higher education where boards of laymen ultimately govern the
university. See Hofstadter and Metzger, pp. 120ff.
[xii] Plato, The Republic, Book III.
[xiii] Said, “Identity,” in Menand, p. 224.
[xiv] John Stuart Mill, On Liberty, edited with an
introduction by Gertrude Himmelfarb (New York: 1974), pp. 110-11.
[xv] Noam Chomsky, Turning the Tide: U.S.
intervention in Central America and the struggle for peace (Boston: 1985), p.
8.
[xvi] Jerrold Seigel, Marx’s Fate: The shape of a
life (Princeton: 1978), p. 329.
[xvii] Joseph A. Schumpeter, Capitalism, Socialism
and Democracy (New York: 1947), p. 44.
[xviii] Philip S. Foner, When Karl Marx Died:
Comments in 1883 (New York: 1973), pp. 38-40.
[xix] Karl Marx, Capital: A critique of political
economy, volume 1 (New York: 1976), p. 104.
[xx] Schumpeter, p. 21.
[xxi] Marx, pp. 175n35 (Bastiat), 314n3 (Say,
Roscher), 339n13 (Young), 342 (“vampire-like”), 569n37 (MacCulloch), 575
(Ganilh), 654 (Mill), 926 (“dripping”).
[xxii] Russell, Autobiography, pp. 465-66.
[xxiii] Norman G. Finkelstein, The Holocaust
Industry: Reflections on the exploitation of Jewish suffering, second paperback
edition (New York: 2003), pp. 44, 45n8.
[xxiv] Henry Louis Gates, “Critical Race Theory and
Free Speech,” in Menand, pp. 146-47.
[xxv] For details and references, see Finkelstein,
Beyond Chutzpah, p. xlv.
[xxvi] Ari Shavit, “Survival of the fittest,”
interview with Benny Morris, Haaretz (9 January 2004).
[xxvii] Dror Mishani and Aurelia Smotriez, “What Sort
of Frenchmen Are They?,” Haaretz (17 November 2005).
[xxviii] Said, “Identity,” in Menand, p. 224.
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