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The founding of the Academic Assistance Council (AAC) in May 1933 was a rapid and constructive response to the Nazi threat to science and learning. Among the far-sighted academics involved was the physiologist A. V. Hill (1886–1977). He was to be a consistent, effective, and loyal supporter of the AAC and, as it became in 1936, the Society for Protection of Science and Learning (SPSL). Hill was remarkable in terms of his scientific achievements and his support of scientific organizations, most notably the Royal Society. Accompanying these activities was a set of social values concerning the scientist as citizen in a parliamentary democracy, and an agenda for science to modernize health care provision. Hill's commitment to the cause of academic refugees can be understood within a broader set of commitments and activities. Apart from many acts of practical assistance, Hill contributed to a broadening of the agenda of the SPSL, making academic freedom a core value. This chapter examines Hill's broader political vision of the defence of learning.

This afterword addresses how the prodemocracy community and activists have been besieged by the battle of defending Hong Kong against the perceptible erosion of its freedoms and its turn to greater authoritarianism. The Umbrella Movement of 2014 in Hong Kong shocked the world and captured global attention. Indeed, the movement has been hailed by many in the world, as so many Hong Kong people had the courage to challenge bluntly the largest dictatorial regime on earth for democracy. That said, the democracy movement has hit a bump, with Beijing not budging on democratization. What is worse, Beijing and the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region (HKSAR) government have patently tightened their control over Hong Kong's freedoms and genuine electoral contestation in the aftermath of the movement. Soon after the termination of the Umbrella Movement, Beijing doggedly stuck to its hardline policy on Hong Kong by dramatically raising the political cost for those challenging its suppression of Hong Kong's democratization. To pre-empt another large-scale Occupy Movement, Beijing and the HKSAR government have also curbed Hong Kong's press freedom and academic freedom.

Colleges tend to have policies on academic freedom that on their face appear to confer broad protection. But the actual scope of protection is a matter of interpretation, and is often much narrower. In practice, the measure of acceptable campus expression is often based on the extent to which speech offends or is viewed as harmful. The contemporary technology environment amplifies this dynamic. Social media help ensure that expression that is accused of being offensive is communicated to the very people most likely to view it as such, leading to a feedback cycle that further increases the risks that opinions or research conclusions falling outside of campus-proscribed boundaries will attract attention and protest. This is the academic freedom elephant in the room, and it plays a far more powerful role in shaping discourse and research than does the text in a university’s formal academic freedom policy.

The tenure decision is intentionally constructed around the very idea of career vulnerability, since the real possibility of its denial is central to the entire process. The last thing a tenure-track professor wants or needs is to do or say anything that will motivate people to oppose a positive tenure decision. The surest way to avoid this is to steer clear of both research and social media activity that might stir up opposition. Thus, obtaining tenure now requires a more careful effort than in the past to steer clear of politically controversial topics, both in research and in public statements on any topic.

Academic freedom is particularly tenuous for the growing number of college instructors who hold positions that are neither tenured nor on the tenure track. The temporary, one-semester-at-a-time nature of many adjunct contracts creates a set of incentives not to run afoul of college administrations. An adjunct who wants to continue to teach will tread very carefully, with the goal of ensuring that even the most easily offended student in a class doesn’t hear or read anything that might spur the filing of a complaint. The tenuous nature of adjunct appointments is incompatible with strong academic freedom protections. Even if such protections existed, the nature of adjunct positions would make those protections difficult to enforce.

Numerous university faculty appeared at the board of trustees meeting, declared support for DuBois Club recognition, and stated there was no evidence to deem the club subversive and that the university’s educational environment required an open exchange of ideas. The board’s own subcommittee agreed and also recommended approval. The board voted to accept these recommendations and allow the university to recognize the club. Politicians and newspaper editorial writers immediately attacked the decision. President Henry supported the decision.

Henry announced he’d taken the DuBois Club decision out of Millet’s hands and passed it to a committee of the board of trustees. Millet appeared relieved to be done with it. The president had faced situations of this nature in the past and successfully managed through them. Tensions between campus activists and university administrators increased, as evidenced in a Millet appearance at an SDS meeting that only served to agitate his audience. His talk was criticized in a Daily Illini editorial that alluded to “Berkeley riots.”

Multiple counterarguments could be voiced in response to the assertions made in this book. It could be asserted that there is no crisis in academia. Or one could suggest that while the three beliefs constrain dialog, they do so appropriately. Additional counterarguments are that academic freedom in this restricted environment is broad enough, and that it must yield to claims of harm arising from assertions deemed offensive. This chapter explains and offers a rebuttal to each of these counterarguments. In doing so, we aim to explain what is lost when the range of on-campus discourse is overly constrained.

In a private meeting with faculty, President Henry revealed his personal opposition to the Clabaugh Act, suggesting that today’s students did not need such protection, that the law was unenforceable anyway, and that it interfered with the spirit of academic freedom. His (leaked) opinions were printed in the Daily Illini; he did not deny them. Protesters were disconcerted by their Diskin success, arguing about the way forward as the DuBois Club met in student-government offices. As the semester came to a close, Henry and Millet spoke confidently to the board about the coming year, while Vic Berkey predicted big happenings.

Koch was an assistant professor of biology and author of a letter to the student newspaper condoning premarital sexual intercourse and cohabitation for sufficiently mature university students. Parents, community leaders, and Illinois newspapers strongly condemned him and called for his firing. A faculty committee quickly recommended dismissal, which President Henry approved. The American Association of University Professors (AAUP), Illinois students, and many faculty, both at Illinois and across the nation, came to Koch’s defense, to no avail. The case was appealed all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court, but the firing stood.

Campuses have long had unwritten rules about what can and can’t be said. But in recent years, social media have emerged as a powerful tool in academia both for direct censorship and for strengthening the incentives for self-censorship. Much of contemporary academic discourse is based on three foundational beliefs that are enforced in part through social media. The beliefs are grounded in good intentions and reflect understandable responses to historical and continuing societal wrongs. But when they are enforced in absolutist and uncompromising terms, they can unreasonably constrain discourse on issues that in fact merit more nuanced analysis.