Public Forum

Reaction to ASA Council’s Resolution on Israeli Boycott

We applaud the Council’s August 15, 2007, resolution reiterating its commitment to academic freedom by “deploring restrictions on the free movement of scholars and students and barriers to scholarly inquiry and exchange.”

It was an appropriate response to a boycott—effectively, a blacklist—of Israeli academics and academic institutions proposed by the leadership of the British University and College Union (UCU).

The ASA thus stands alongside sister professional associations such as the American Federation of Teachers, the British Academy, the American Political Science Association, the American Psychological Association, and the American Association of University Professors, which have repudiated this or an earlier boycott initiative, and alongside at least 300 presidents of American universities whose published statement unconditionally rejected the latest effort. Academic freedom does not exist if it is conditional on scholars’ nationalities, their personal political opinions, or the policies of their governments.

Regrettably, however, the ASA’s resolution, unlike those of other academic associations, included an additional paragraph that, in effect, subverts its purpose. That paragraph refers to charges that the Israeli government restricts the educational opportunities of Palestinian students. Whatever the merits of that charge and whatever the impulse for supposed “balance,” introducing that controversy undermines a principled defense of academic freedom.

The essential issue raised by the proposed boycott is whether academic freedom is universal or whether some exception should be made based on scholars’ nationalities, politics, or their governments’ policies. The boycotters assert that one exception should be made: Israel of all nations and Israeli scholars of all scholars in the world are so heinous that they uniquely ought to be stripped of such freedom. The proper riposte of the scholarly community to such discrimination has been, quite thoroughly, to reiterate the universality of academic freedom free from political litmus tests. What the inserted paragraph in the ASA resolution does is link the defense of Israelis’ academic freedom to a presumed policy of their government. In doing so, the ASA appears to endorse making academic freedom politically conditional. What the ASA should have done, clearly and unequivocally, was to reject the dangerous precedent of punishing academics and educational institutions for the policies of the governments under which they live.

Consider what the ASA did in an analogous case. In February 2007, the Council issued a statement dissenting from Bush administration policies that restrict travel and intellectual exchanges between the United States and Cuba. It affirmed that the “free flow of scholars and scholarship across national boarders is a fundamental tenet of academic freedom.” Rightly, the Council saw no need to “balance” this statement with another paragraph criticizing suppression of academic and intellectual freedom by the Cuban state. They recognized that the second issue, while important, has no bearing on the first one. The same principle applies to this latest resolution.

We hope that the Council, upon reflection, will realize that the most principled position to take in response to the UCU blacklist proposal is to follow the February precedent. It should straightforwardly and unconditionally affirm the position it took in 2006 of its “ongoing support for the protection of academic independence and the integrity of scientific research through the open movement of faculty and students between universities irrespective of nationality or political views.” Full stop. There is still time for the Council to do so.

(A news update: The UCU leadership recently withdrew its proposal to debate the boycott policy upon advice of its attorneys that its anti-Israel initiative violated British equal opportunity legislation and subjected union members to anti-discrimination lawsuits. Quite so. Nonetheless, the ASA Council still bears the responsibility to take an unequivocal stand on behalf of academic freedom.) Sincerely yours,

Paul Burstein, University of Washington- Seattle; Cynthia Fuchs Epstein, City University of New York; Claude S. Fischer, University of California-Berkeley; Chad Alan Goldberg, University of Wisconsin- Madison and Hebrew University (Spring 2008); Judith Lorber, Graduate Center and Brooklyn College, City University of New York; Ann Swidler, University of California- Berkeley; Jeff Weintraub, University of Pennsylvania

The Invisible Namesakes: In Recognition of African American Founders in ASA?

In 1952, Ralph Ellison’s The Invisible Man won the Pulitzer Prize, an exceptional achievement in itself but even more so for a person of African descent at the time. As a “Negro,” his main character was invisible to white America. Similarly, the contributions of African Americans to the discipline were “invisible” at this year’s awards ceremony of the American Sociological Association Annual Meeting.

I was troubled by the manner in which the distinctive contributions of African American sociologists were both ignored and obscured. The Cox-Johnson-Frazier Award was given to an eminent sociologist on Latin Americans and immigration, Jorge Bustamante. In the presentation of this award, there was no mention that the award’s namesakes were African American sociologists, what their contribution to the discipline was, or why the award recipient’s work was an exemplar in that tradition.

This award was established by ASA to reward scholarship, teaching, and service by “public sociologists” whose work aided in the struggle of African Americans to be full members of the society and the ASA. That goal was, and is, appropriate. The award was to recognize sociologists making contributions in the tradition of Cox-Johnson-Frazier in spite of the fact that they may be employed at Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) with heavy teaching loads or at institutions where research is not the primary mission. In addition to their original research and teaching, the works of these scholars were often through public service and influencing public policy relative to African Americans. Without a link to the work of these scholars, the award becomes generic, and it is no longer “stigmatized” with any association to the African Americans for whom the award is named.

Likewise, when the membership, through ballot initiative, named the distinguished career award the W.E.B. DuBois Career of Distinguished Scholarship Award, the rationale presented to the membership was based upon two facts primarily: (1) Dubois in many ways is the father of American sociology in that his Philadelphia Negro was the discipline’s first empirical sociological study; and (2) that his scholarship in terms of both quality and quantity of research and writings are unparalled among American sociologists. DuBois has no peer. The membership acknowledged this when they voted “yes” to change the name. Yet, his name was mentioned only in the context of the title of the award. There was no recognition of the significance of DuBois’ seminal contributions to the field. Consequently, with no description of the award’s namesake, any standards will obtain. The only tribute to one of sociology’s founders with regard to this award was when the award recipient spoke passionately about how Sorokin had been his inspiration.

I want to thank Professors Aldon Morris and Michael Schwartz for thrusting DuBois to the forefront of recognition by the ASA. I had my reservations about naming the award after DuBois because I could not see a narrowly focused academic making the breadth of contributions as had DuBois. This is particularly true given that his work was not just about understanding things as they are but he used the craft to change our social world. On the other hand, I realize the opportunity to heighten knowledge of the DuBois legacy by bringing to the discipline’s attention his work, his legacy, and our mission as sociologists. With the presentation of this career award being “sanitized” of its relationship to DuBois, the African American founder of the field, it is as though the award had no relevance to DuBois.

As sociologists, we know that “things don’t just happen.” There is agency. Someone, or someones, made the decision to exclude any reference to African Americans in these presentations. To have awards with African American namesakes and not pay honor to their contributions had to be a conscious act. Ignoring the fact that these namesakes were African American is somewhat reminiscent of James McKee’s Sociology and the Race Problem: A Failure of Perspective. His critique of the discipline when it comes to race is that it operates from a failed paradigm—an assimilationist paradigm. On the other hand, applying this ideological perspective to the issue of “race” has made explanation and policy a bit more problematic. The award descriptions and presentations were generic to the point that these eminent sociologists and their contributions were made to appear as though they were key players in shaping the “mainstream” of the discipline. In effect, the legacy of DuBois, Cox, Johnson, and Frazier became invisible to the audience and the award recipients.

Robert Newby, Central Michigan University

Response to Professor Leslie Irvine

I was drawn to the unsparingly critical and negative remarks Professor Leslie Irvine made about China in the July/ August Footnotes. Professor Irvine demonized China, and the Chinese people, on the basis of China’s human rights record, its mistreatment of animals, and other allegations. One can always summon statistics for such arguments. But after spending the last six months in China, visiting several cities, and engaging in deep and extensive dialogues with my newly found Chinese friends, I feel the need to counter some of Professor Irvine’s claims.

I was in China on a Fulbright and taught for almost six months at Fudan University. I taught a course on political sociology and lectured about the values of democratic societies. My students were very attentive to my presentations, and they engaged me in critical discussions about democracy versus modern China. They were respectful and they listened. No one ever prevented me from providing a clear and extended defense of democracy and democratic rights. This atmosphere of exchange and dialogue, at the heart of the Fulbright program, was important to my teaching and to my ability to connect with students.

I also met many fine people outside the University. Every morning a group of older gentlemen gathered outside my residence and listened to and admired their pet birds, which hung on the wire fences and sang. People walked by in the mornings— women with their beautifully groomed dogs—and they all seemed as ordinary as Americans. Though I do not speak Chinese, we managed to exchange smiles and small gestures every morning.

Because of my research interests, I spent a great deal of time observing people in parks and on streets. One of my great discoveries was Lu Xun Park. This is a remarkable park, not only because of the beautiful grounds, but also because of the variety of cultural activities, ranging from tai chi to ballroom dancing to calligraphy done on the walks in the park. I was usually accompanied by several of my Chinese graduate students, and they provided regular translations for me. On one of my park visits, while watching some of the fan dancers, a Chinese man about my age came over and in well-spoken English started a conversation. At one point, he turned to me and said: “Do these people look oppressed?” They certainly did not. In fact, to the contrary they looked quite joyful.

I hope Professor Irvine could someday spend some time on the ground in China, as I have. Fifteen years after the end of World War II, I found myself in Germany. As a Jew, this was personally difficult, but I felt compelled to see the country. I spent four months working there in 1961, just before the Berlin Wall was erected. While there, I made a few friends, and often asked them about the War and the Jews. People did not tell me much; but I discovered that, because of the Holocaust, it was essential for me, as a Jew, to confront these dangers. I did this by talking to people, by trying to break down whatever barriers lay between us, by engaging in dialogue, and I did it as an act of personal discovery. That, it seems to me, is the essence of what it means to be a human being and what social science is all about. I write this letter because a young Chinese student from my Department was offended by Dr. Irvine’s comments, but could not herself easily respond. This does not let the Chinese government off the hook; rather it amplifies what China means both to the Chinese and to the world at large.