Honesty and courage in academia

Variations upon the emperor’s new clothes

In Hans Christian Anderson’s famous tale, The Emperor’s New Clothes, the Emperor and his advisors all say that they can see the Emperor’s beautiful clothes, because they are told those who fail to see the beautiful cloth lack intelligence. Actually, there are no clothes. It takes a child to point out the obvious. In the end, all watchers acknowledge that the Emperor is wearing no clothes, although the Emperor continues his parade.

People who point out the Emperor’s nakedness are not popular. In Anderson’s story, it is significant that a child tells the truth—no one can blame a child. For similar reasons, monarchs had Fools to point out the things no one else could. An ordinary person, however, points out the Emperor’s lack of clothing at his or her risk. Too many other people have accepted the existence of the clothing to let someone point it out. People are invested in maintaining the illusion.

Photo by Matteo Galeazzi on Unsplash Not a horse.

Trust the Chinese to have a version of this story illustrating how the truth can be dangerous to those who dare speak it. There is a chengyu (idiomatic four character expression) 指鹿為馬 (zhǐ lù wéi mǎ) “Calling a deer a horse” which sums up the story. The full version is told by Sima Qian in the Records of the Grand Historian:

Zhao Gao was contemplating treason but was afraid the other officials would not heed his commands, so he decided to test them first. He brought a deer and presented it to the Second Emperor [Qin Er Shi] but called it a horse. The Second Emperor laughed and said, “Is the chancellor perhaps mistaken, calling a deer a horse?”

Then the emperor questioned those around him. Some remained silent, while some, hoping to ingratiate with Zhao Gao, said it was a horse, and others said it was a deer. Zhao Gao secretly arranged for all those who said it was a deer to be brought before the law. Thereafter the officials were all terrified of Zhao Gao.¹

In this version of the tale, there is no moment where everyone looks at each other and acknowledges the lie: “Oh, the deer is really a deer!” Instead, the willingness to repeat the lie identifies those who are honest and courageous, in order to ensure they are eliminated. It’s a reverse “loyalty test”, with a perverse outcome: the dishonest and cowardly are promoted.

In the event, one attempts such loyalty tests at one’s own risk. Zhao Gao apparently met a sticky end. Ziying, the man whom Zhao Gao installed as the next Qin Emperor, ordered him assassinated and exterminated his entire family.

A while back, I applied for a leadership position in the university. In my application, I said that two of my strengths are courage and honesty. I didn’t get the job—don’t worry, I wasn’t sad—I didn’t have the relevant leadership experience, nor would I have been right for the job. I am not good with administrivia. Universities are increasingly jam-packed full of administrivia.² I really enjoy teaching and research, and I’m better off staying there. However, I felt honour-bound to apply.

When I told non-academics what I’d written about courage and honesty, they nodded. When I told anyone from an academic institution that I’d written this (whether they were Australian or from overseas) they winced and sometimes laughed. Some said, “Well, you lost your chance at an interview, right then and there.”

There is a problem in a sector if this is the general perception. Having witnessed the performance of the presidents of several Ivy League universities before a Committee of the US House of Representatives, it is entirely evident why academics across the globe might be cynical about the qualities valued in academic leadership. The disturbing aspect of the testimony of the Presidents was their unwillingness to call a deer a deer.

My own belief is that academic institutions have become managerialist behemoths, which operate more like a mega-corporation than an institution of learning. This is not conducive to displays of courage and honesty. It is also not conducive to student learning.

Mind you, it has always been dangerous for scholars to stick up for their principles. While I was researching the history of remoteness in contract law damages for a journal article, I came across two legal scholars. The first, Charles du Moulin (‘Molinaeus’), a Frenchman (1500 - 1566) was originally a Catholic. During his lifetime, he converted to Calvinism, then to Lutheranism, then back to Calvinism, and finally, back to Catholicism on his deathbed. He was forced into exile for his religious beliefs, and fled to modern-day Switzerland, among other places. Later he was imprisoned by the parlement of Paris for speaking out against the Council of Trent. He was also instrumental in developing what later became the rule of remoteness in Hadley v Baxendale: he developed the argument that the rule depends upon what was known or perceptible at the time of creation of the contract.

The second Huig de Groot (‘Grotius’) (1583 - 1645), was the famous Dutch natural law scholar. Grotius was a Dutch Protestant. He spoke out against religious influence in civil government, including in appointment of academics to positions in universities. This lead him to be accused of being “diabolical”, and he was condemned to life imprisonment. However he was able to flee to France. Grotius also used the work of the Late Scholastic scholars in his discussion of contract law, to help popularise the notion that consent was the animating principle behind contract law (although Pufendorf proved more influential).

I know that, sometimes, I rub people up the wrong way. However, I felt better after reading of the lives of these two men. I am not yet so annoying that I have not been imprisoned for my beliefs, nor have I had to flee to another country, unlike Molinaeus and Grotius. Nor have I had to be smuggled out of a castle in a book chest, like Grotius.

Grotius farewells his wife as he escapes from Loevenstein Castle in 1621 (public domain).

It takes courage and honesty to speak out against ideological and religious norms in this way. Would I be that courageous and honest? I’m not sure. I hope I’m not tested.

A friend noted that in a modern democracy, it’s unlikely that you will be killed or imprisoned for your beliefs. What, then, can be leveraged to produce ideological conformity in the modern age? That which keeps you alive: your income, and your employment. The stories of these two men caused me to wonder—if I transgressed an ideological norm, would it be possible to flee to a different country, as they had? The world works differently now, because of the global information economy and the Internet. You could go somewhere else and remake yourself back then. It’s less easy now. The fact that I’ve been public and outspoken about my views means I can’t escape them.

The importance of employment has been recently noted by the High Court of Australia in Elisha v Vision Australia Ltd,³ where the court quoted approvingly from an English case, Johnson v Unisys Ltd,⁴ and said:

It has been described as a “social reality” that a person's employment “is usually one of the most important things in his or her life. It gives not only a livelihood but an occupation, an identity and a sense of self-esteem.”⁵

Therefore, the decision to terminate a person’s employment should not be made lightly. This is particularly the case in academia, where, as established in Ridd v James Cook University,⁶ academic freedom means that academics must be allowed to express views with which others may disagree.

A corporatised university, however, may prefer academics not to be “difficult” in order to maintain the brand.

Academic institutions are also in a bind. It is very difficult to terminate a senior academic and a time-consuming and intricate process must be followed. I have a hypothesis that this has an unexpected side-effect. As I’ve described in my post on non-disclosure agreements, it may mean that an employee who displays deeply problematic behaviour gets away with it, particularly if they are productive researchers who otherwise add to the university’s prestige, and bring in grants. By “deeply problematic behaviour” I mean serious sexual misconduct and serious unprofessional behaviour (discriminating against or harassing students, bullying or assaulting colleagues).

The difficulty involved in terminating a permanent academic appointment means that it’s easier to indicate to the employee that they should look elsewhere, and to help them become another institution’s problem. Even absent a non-disclosure agreement, the process is shrouded in confidentiality, so that even victims of any problematic behaviour are not aware of what is happening. Unlike, for example, my publicly expressed heterodox views, the very nature of the conduct means that it’s usually not public. No one wants to risk a defamation suit. The best case scenario is that the academic moves elsewhere and desists from the conduct; the worst case scenario is that the academic repeats the same or worse conduct at another institution.

I don’t have much hope that recent Australian reforms, such as a National Student Ombudsman, will make anything more than a superficial difference to academic institutions. Indeed, my fear is that more government intervention may just make the layers of bureaucracy worse.

It is clear that the Australian university sector is in crisis. As I have described in one of my first posts, I believe that the incentives created by government grants to publish or perish are at the heart of the malaise of modern universities.

I’m prepared to call a deer a deer. We must return to institutional neutrality; we must emphasise knowledge, not activism; and most importantly, we must fundamentally reform the perverse incentives created by grant processes and academic publishing. Let’s ensure academics believe that courage and honesty are valued.

1. Sima Qian, Records of the Grand Historian: Qin Dynasty Burton Watson (transl.) (Columbia University Press, 1993) pg. 70.

2. Eg, I was recently required to get a Working With Children check to comply with our Child Safety Policy (MPF 1337), even though I never teach students under 18, because I teach in the JD (a postgraduate degree) and in the Masters and PhD programs. I spent an entire day getting this, and haven’t gotten around to claiming back the cost of the card… of course that is all “self-service” too. I had difficulty taking the required photo against a white wall, and when it eventually worked, I look like a crazed axe murderer on my card… but heck, I’m safe to work with children.

3. [2024] HCA 50.

4. [2003] 1 AC 518, 539 [35].

5. [2024] HCA 50, [67].

6. [2021] HCA 32.