Hate groups, big dykes and other problems in academic freedom

Academe, May/Jun 2003 by Rand, Erica

"Standard" practices of academic freedom can reinforce inequities.

Addressing this paradox is a complicated, but necessary, business.

My work situates me largely outside of the primary current discourses about academic freedom and national security in a time of crisis. Although I certainly qualify as a suspect according to President Bush's "with-us-or-against-us" criteria, I have no anthrax lab. And although I almost got pulled off an airplane for having a sign reading "Parking for Palestinians only. All others will be towed"-which I intended to write about, partly to explore why, say, a "Parking for Italians only" sign would merely get labeled humorous-my status as a U.S. citizen protects me from some consequences that can attend being labeled subversive. Nonetheless, in January 2003, as I prepared to teach a course called "Women, Gender, Visual Culture," I found myself facing a problem regarding academic freedom that had everything to do with the contemporary political scene.

A white supremacist group, the World Church of the Creator (WCOTC), announced plans to hold a rally for its cause on the first Saturday of the semester in Lewiston, Maine, where Bates, my college, is located. The group's imminent appearance forced me to struggle, not with "evil-doers" who would threaten academic freedom from the outside, but with my own disturbing disinclination to support the principle wholeheartedly. I realized that, despite wanting to make my classroom a place where people could express divergent views, I was hardly eager to support the articulation of white supremacy. I couldn't imagine how an environment made friendly for WCOTC supporters wouldn't negatively impact the academic freedom of people in their targeted groups.

This article uses my work around teaching this course at this particular time as the occasion to consider a blind spot within the concept of academic freedom when it appears as a singular standard: the free expression of ideas by some can be used to create a hostile climate for others. In pointing to this problem, I intend not to undermine academic freedom but to argue for a way to strengthen it by twinning our loyalty to the principle with sustained work against inequities that threaten the practice.

As I said, my first worries about "Women, Gender, Visual Culture" concerned the atmosphere that the WCOTC demonstration would create for its targeted groups, which include people who are of color, lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgendered, Muslim, Jewish, or a combination thereof. Even knowledge of a planned citywide counter-demonstration (which, happily, drew 4,500 people) and the college's firm statement against the WCOTC could not erase the possibility of violence far more direct than hate speech. In 1999 and 2001, young white men associated with the group had killed and injured numerous people.' In addition, Lewiston had already seen an increase in harassment of Somali immigrants, whose presence was the WCOTC's ostensible reason for coming to town. The group had taken advantage of the international media attention Lewiston received after the mayor sent a letter to Somali community leaders asking them to curb future arrivals because, he erroneously contended, the thousand already in the city had tapped out Lewiston's resources with their need for services.

The specter of past, present, and possible future violence in the area hardly contributed to ideal conditions for productive thinking. Besides, despite much good-faith work to create an inclusive learning community, Bates has had its problems with harassment, discrimination, violence, and exclusion. Most people in WCOTC-targeted groups had also dealt with situations on campus ranging from dorm harassment to exclusionary curricula. Negative effects of prejudice were neither new nor external to Bates.

Balancing Act

That said, I was also concerned about the classroom climate for mainstream students. After all, although I enter the classroom as a person in several targeted groups, I also give the grades. For this reason, I always plan my courses with attention to how my reputation on campus as a leftist dyke might affect what students think they can say or write. I think about these issues in relation to the particular situation at Bates, which has an apparent liberal slant and a claustrophobic smallness that generates fear among students that a gaffe can follow them to the dorm, to the dining hall, and on into the foreseeable future.

So when I begin my courses by having students brainstorm ground rules with me, I have in mind discouraging them from asking, for example, an Asian American student to speak for all Asian Americans, or from presuming by looking around the room that no one has personal ties to transgender matters. On the other hand, I aim to encourage respect for people who think that only heterosexuality is normal. I also try to start with topics and readings that don't throw what students might take to be my identity or my politics in their faces. For the same reason, I generally don't require them to read my work; I want students to work on critical thinking without immediately having to think about critiquing me. These are some of the ways that I factor my structural power over students into the course design.