How Schools Can Help Foster a Healthier Public Debate.
In these rancorous political times, it can sometimes feel like the public conversation is more likely to generate noise than insight, more heat than light. Arguments fly across our television screens and our Twitter feeds, controversies are amplified on a seemingly hourly basis, and the integrity of our collective discourse has been called into question. In this charged environment, constructive engagement and common ground have been difficult to find. It is precisely at such moments that the work of schools and universities, with their commitment to the respectful exchange of competing ideas, becomes more important than ever. This mission informed last week’s statement by the Association of American Universities, which reaffirmed campus commitment to free speech. The statement said that “the robust discussions and debates that occur at research universities have been central to the advancement of democracy, the creation of new knowledge, the fostering of educational excellence, and the promotion of social progress.”
In the spirit of advancing this discourse, we have, over the last year, hosted a range of events on our campus. These events have featured discussion, debate, and, occasionally, the examination of topics deemed controversial. Civil, open-minded engagement with such topics is a core function of a school and can help move our difficult present towards a better, healthier future. With this in mind, we today rerun an amalgam of three prior Dean’s Notes on how schools can sustain a constructive dialogue about the issues that matter most for health. The note is divided into three sections. The first looks at how schools of public health can engage with complex, competing ideas; the second explores the importance of maintaining a respectful, inclusive academic conversation, and tackles the question of when should schools restrict speech to ensure such conversations may continue; and the third examines the question of when should we, as a school, take sides in a given debate, in our pursuit of building a healthier world.
On engaging with complex, competing ideas
In our current political context, we have seen the rise of disposable, insubstantial ideas—even falsehoods—that can distract from meaningful thinking. This distraction is heightened by the sheer pace of news and information. With an online media fueled by “clicks,” and a range of television networks all driven to keep pace with the 24-hour news cycle, it is easy for nuance to get lost. In these changing times, the role of academic institutions is more important than ever. Schools operating within universities can lend clarity to the public debate by allowing for discussion and a free exchange of competing, data-informed ideas. Yet we have seen the value of schools and universities questioned, as our charged political climate has influenced how some Americans view higher education. A Pew Research poll, for example, reported that 58 percent of Republicans and Republican-leaning independents feel that higher education has “a negative effect on the way things are going in the country,” while 19 percent of Democrats and Democrat-leaning independents say the same.
In our present environment, we are increasingly likely to believe deeply in our own ideas, but are less likely to engage with those of others. This can lead to a degree of polarization that can be quite jarring. Compounding this polarization is the challenge of misrepresentations, or “alternative facts,” that have proliferated in the media and cultural landscape. The 2016 election seemed to fuel this proliferation, until, by the end of the campaign, it was possible to question whether facts still have a place in American public discourse at all, opening the door to the idea that anything can be made true if enough people believe it. Oxford Dictionaries even selected “post-truth” as its 2016 international word of the year. This is particularly troubling from a public health perspective. From vaccine skepticism to climate change denial, the acceptance of a post-truth landscape threatens the basic underpinning of facts that are necessary to create policies and best practices that safeguard health.
To mitigate this polarization and distortion, it seems to me rational that society needs spaces where facts are respected and ideas can be interrogated and discussed. The academy represents such a space, for three central reasons.
First, the academy is an environment where we are empowered to critically examine the ideas we pursue; where fact-based debate remains key to advancing understanding. Peer review rests at the heart of the academic enterprise, an explicit engagement of all our ideas with careful, informed scrutiny, to the end of pushing forward tested and tried concepts that can advance knowledge.
Second, we pursue reasoned argument not just to learn about new perspectives, but also for the sake of the debate itself—the insights that can spring from the opposition of two arguments creates an intellectual value that is, I think, greater than the sum of its parts.
Third, a school is a physical space where students and scholars of many different backgrounds can interact on a regular basis over a period of months and years. In a digital age, this face-to-face engagement is perhaps more valuable than ever. This is not to say that we do not also embrace the tools of our electronic era, seeking an ever-greater fluency in emerging forms of media; however, our campus life reminds us that the most valuable kind of connection will always be the links that develop between people when they gather together and communicate in a common space.
The corollary here is that we need to speak up for these values, even when doing so means making sure that our ideas are tested by those who have a priori different perspectives than ours, and, at times, providing a platform for those with whom we disagree. To forfeit these approaches would be to deny ourselves the chance to test our convictions against the deeply held beliefs of others, and to risk reinforcing the divides that have done so much to undermine the public debate in recent years.
If we indeed subscribe to this view of the academy’s role, what then are the challenges that we face in ensuring that it remains at the core of what we do as a school of public health? I suggest that there are three key challenges confronting us in this regard.
First, while facts are facts, the conclusions we draw from them can occasionally be wrong-headed, sometimes dramatically so. The discredited theory of eugenics, for example, was once very much in the academic mainstream. To hear eugenics used as an argument against immigration and “intermarriage,” and framed as a means of building “a better world” at the beginning of the 20th century, is chilling, especially when we consider that such beliefs were once espoused by leaders at some of our country’s most prestigious schools.
Second, we sometimes think that conclusions are straightforward, and we jump to them, when the truth is actually more complex. This has been well-illustrated by the debate over salt. I have written before on the challenges that the field has faced in the calls for a reduction in dietary sodium as a means of saving money and saving lives. However, the data are truly complicated, suggesting that calls to reduce sodium in general populations (as opposed to in high-risk groups) may need careful consideration. This speaks to the importance of putting our facts before our conclusions—not the other way around—even when doing so means we must countenance a period of ambiguity and doubt.
Third, we face the challenge of at times asking questions that are informed by our biases. This is in some respects what earns us the enmity of those who devalue our work, and science in general. As I have written previously, our work is informed by our knowledge and our values, i.e. what our data tell us is true and what actions we choose to prioritize based upon our vision for building a healthier world. Sometimes our knowledge and values overlap with the broader public consensus—as seen, for example in the worldwide push for polio eradication. However, sometimes this alignment does not occur—as on the issue of gun violence in the US, where public opinion has yet to fully mobilize in support of the data-driven policy solutions that are key to solving this problem. Progress on this issue has been hindered, in large part, by the success of gun control opponents at framing the issue as a question of values, a question that public health, with its understandable bias towards data, has yet to fully engage with.
How to avoid these pitfalls?
First, we must remain skeptical, leaning always on data rather than received wisdom or consensus. Just because something has become mainstream does not mean that it is immune to criticism or reevaluation. Second, we must take nothing for granted in our pursuit of the facts, returning often to first principles to ensure that even our most complex investigations are grounded in the core tenets of our field. This is, of course, not always feasible, but it should remain a goal. Third, we must invite discussion and debate, both among ourselves and with those outside our community, seeking new perspectives to enrich our thinking and challenge our assumptions. While this engagement can sometimes be uncomfortable, even disorienting, it is nevertheless central to our mission. As a school, we have the enormous privilege, and responsibility, of being a part of an enterprise that thrives on the exchange of ideas to help foster a healthier public debate, and, ultimately, a healthier world.
On maintaining a respectful, inclusive academic conversation
Recognizing that our capacity to participate in an exchange of ideas is at the core of what we do as a school, the challenge becomes: What are the limits—if any—to this exchange? This issue has become especially pressing in the wake of the events in Charlottesville, which began on an academic campus, as well as in the broader context of the rise of hate speech in the US and the troubling links between hate speech and the threat of violence. Consideration of this issue touches on free speech, a core tenet of US freedoms, a right unequivocally stated in our Constitution, and one of the main principles of academic life. And yet, in recent years, we have seen a series of high-profile cases where the presence, or, sometimes, the absence, or “non-platforming,” of speakers on university campuses have led to anger and disruption. The objection to such speakers often rests on the accusation that they use their speech to foment hate. But in many respects, it is exactly unpleasant speech that the First Amendment aims to protect. This raises difficult questions. When is it acceptable to curate the conversation in the academic context? How might such limits be imposed at schools and universities in a way that respects the guarantees of the First Amendment and the freedom of expression that is so central to our work? I offer here some personal reflections, to articulate my evolving thinking on the issue, and to provoke reaction that can sharpen my ideas.
It seems to me that to answer questions of speech, it is necessary to ask another question: just how “free” is speech in our context to begin with? It strikes me that speech is often regularly curtailed in two, frequently unconscious, ways: through self-editing, and, in an academic context, through our curation of the ideas and opinions we engage with on our campus. It is not difficult to see how a habit of self-censorship can arise, where we limit ideas in form as well as in content. Often, this is motivated by decorum—we, appropriately, do not say everything that comes into our minds so that we might fit in, or simply avoid rudeness. There is also the question of consequences. In this age of social media, a statement that is construed as offensive can result in near-instant mass opprobrium. This, too, can lead to self-imposed limits on speech—we speak carefully because we fear where a misstep might take us. In the academy, unfettered speech is complicated by editorial necessity. For schools to work, faculty and staff must design curricula, assign readings, create programs of events, and invite speakers. This means making choices. We choose to whom we give a platform, just as we choose which books we assign and which discussions we engage in. When we decide to assign a particular book, or invite a particular speaker, we are implicitly choosing not to engage with an alternative perspective we might otherwise have called upon. There is no avoiding these decisions; our task then becomes making sure, when we decide how we will apply the principle of free expression at our school, that our curation of speech is guided by the right motives.
To ensure that we maximize latitude of expression while nurturing a respectful, constructive debate, I see three circumstances where speech may appropriately be edited in an academic context.
First, we have no obligation to provide a platform to speech that does not open itself to rejoinders by other speech. The chance to rebut arguments with which we disagree is an example of how free speech can check itself, with one person’s speech curbing or contextualizing the excesses of another. In his consideration of free speech and political extremism, Carl Cohen writes that one of the reasons that falsely shouting “fire” in a theater disqualifies a speaker from protection—per the famous maxim of Oliver Wendell Holmes—is that it “permits no discussion” and gives “no opportunity for reasoned reply.” Schools can and should provide such an opportunity. However, when speech becomes inimical to reply—through name-calling, for example—it should not be tolerated. Our current politics, and the degree to which it has lent itself to name-calling in recent years, provides ample evidence of how such speech can distort the public debate.
Second, we can curtail speech that, implicitly or explicitly, endorses or incites violence. The unacceptability of violence is, I think, self-evident, not just for its capacity to cause physical harm, but for its chilling effect on other speech. Indeed, violence represents a failure of speech; as Hannah Arendt wrote, “Violence begins where speech ends.” In this sense, it is a negation of our deepest values as a school, of our aim “to create a respectful, collaborative, diverse, and inclusive community.” Violence tears at the fabric of inclusivity, and puts collaboration and respect out of reach. Those who promote violence have nothing to offer the public debate, and should not be welcome at academic institutions.
Third, and this is perhaps hardest to grapple with, academic speech can be limited when it traffics in well-established falsehoods. It is important to make a distinction here between the promotion of willfully misleading statements and ideas that are simply tentative or not yet fully formed. Giving a hearing to the latter is not only acceptable, it is core to our project as scholars, constituting the beginning of all scientific inquiry. The former, however, serves no purpose, other than to distort good-faith efforts to find and convey the truth. For this reason, it may have no place on campus. This distinction is illustrated by the fight over the teaching of creationism versus evolution in public schools. Creationists have long maintained that their view should receive “equal time” alongside evolution. Yet evolution has been borne out by generations of scientific analysis, whereas creationism has no scientific basis. For this reason, the two positions are not equivalent, nor are schools expected to treat them as if they are. This is not because creationism is merely controversial, it is because there is broad agreement that creationism is incorrect. The distinction is an important one—in curating speech, we must make sure that we are not unduly censoring controversial ideas, but are, instead, exercising our prerogative to be careful in granting a platform to ideas that have been shown false by scientific consensus. I recognize that this is a difficult line to draw; ideas that today we think are wrong may turn out to be right tomorrow, and I have written previously about the need for humility about what we think we know. I also note that while here I am drawing, in some ways, black/white distinctions—i.e., asking whether we allow ideas to be expressed within a school or not—there are many shades of gray where ideas that are controversial, likely wrong, still deserve a hearing. In these cases, we can explicitly frame such ideas when they are on campus, either editorially in their presentation, or via the format of the presentation (e.g. a discussion or debate). This could allow us to provide a forum for controversial notions, while withholding the school’s implicit endorsement—which could otherwise be implied by our providing a platform for their presentation. In some ways, this particular category deserves much more exploration, but I label it in summary as one of three reasons that seem to me important factors in etching the scope of the academic conversation.
Schools and universities derive value from their ability to engage with complex, competing ideas, even—especially—during periods when this engagement is rarely reflected in the national debate. Any limit on the academic conversation is meant to ensure the quality of this engagement. When speech is used to silence other speech, incite violence, or promote falsehoods, it is far from the free and fair exchange of ideas that we aspire to. This is why we work to remain responsible curators of the public health conversation as it unfolds on our campus, taking care that the voices we invite to our school are not hateful or disingenuous, even as we maintain a willingness to host guests with challenging or controversial views. We also continue to provide opportunities for our community to make a rebuttal to the perspectives we host, and maintain a zero-tolerance policy for the kind of speech that moves beyond the realm of speech and into that of violence. We impose these limits in the hope of building a world where such limits are no longer necessary, where hate does not proliferate, arguments are presented in good faith, and the academic conversation serves to uplift, not undermine, the free exchange of ideas.
When should schools take sides?
As a faculty member, I often weigh in on issues, inviting disagreement and debate. It is with that spirit in mind that I write these Dean’s Notes; it is also the sentiment behind my latest book. When I speak, I speak on behalf of myself, not the SPH community. In my role as dean, however, I am frequently approached to endorse statements and sign public letters on behalf of the school regarding a range of subjects; from recent federal efforts to defund Planned Parenthood, to the fate of climate change regulations. This raises a question: When is it acceptable for us to take a position on an issue collectively, as an academic institution?
All schools must consider this to some degree, of course, but it is perhaps especially relevant to a school of public health, given the many issues that fall within the remit of creating healthy populations. The social, economic, and environmental conditions that shape health are themselves shaped by the outcome of often hotly contested debates, making our engagement with the question of when to take sides all the more important. This question has taken on new urgency in the wake of President Trump’s initial reluctance to condemn white supremacists for sparking the violence in Charlottesville, when he instead equivocated that “many sides” were to blame for the bloodshed. This response was widely viewed as inadequate, given the stark divide between the forces of hate and those of tolerance, and clarified the importance of influential American institutions naming injustice and speaking out on behalf of the marginalized and the oppressed. With this context in mind, I will here explore the topic of when it may be appropriate for us to take positions as a school, and how best to do so when the occasion arises. I do this to help clarify my own thinking, to be transparent about that thinking, and, as always, to invite comment and disagreement that can help advance our collective engagement with this issue.
Why do schools avoid regularly taking official positions on issues? The answer lies with the principle of institutional neutrality, a central, if still much debated, tenet of our academic system. Institutional neutrality is the principle whereby schools refrain from taking a political or ideological position, creating space for a nonpartisan pursuit of the facts wherever they may lead. Our neutrality is core to our function as a school. It allows us to examine a host of ideas with clear eyes, to parse the fundamentals of a given concept, and to recognize the good in what may be generally regarded as “bad” ideas and see the areas where “good” ideas can fall short. This delicate, difficult work is rendered even more challenging if we begin our inquiry with our preferred conclusions already in mind. For a school to subscribe to a set ideological agenda would encourage us to do just that, unduly influencing the empirical process that is the lifeblood of a healthy academic enterprise. Academic neutrality is also important to the world of ideas beyond our campus. I have written previously about how our ability to advance understanding through free inquiry and fact-based debate is a value-add for society. It is also an indispensable alternative to those who would promote an agenda through appeals to prejudice or political bias. Our words carry weight in the public sphere precisely because we do not choose them in the service of a partisan aim, but rather to express the facts as we encounter them during the course of our scholarship.
Important as our neutrality is, there have been times when schools have formed a consensus that taking no position is not a morally acceptable option in the face of injustice. By way of one obvious example, this was the case in recent decades when academia took steps to pressure the South African government to end its policy of apartheid. This action took two principle forms—divestment and an academic boycott. Divestment was largely a result of students arguing that schools should stop investing in companies that did business in South Africa. By the end of the 1980s, about 150 educational institutions chose to do so. The academic boycott consisted of institutions and individual scholars refusing to collaborate with South African universities in a range of areas, such as hosting visiting scholars or students, evaluating theses, sharing research, and publishing articles. While the effectiveness of divestment and the boycott remain subject to debate, they nevertheless were part of a broader international stand against apartheid that ultimately yielded results. They were the product of a moral imperative to protest the country’s racist political system and the extension of this injustice into higher education. Racial discrimination is inimical to the mission of schools and universities to foster an inclusive, respectful learning environment. Taking an anti-apartheid position was therefore not just a defense of oppressed black South Africans, but of the most cherished values of higher education.
Academia’s stand against apartheid teaches us that the principle of neutrality is sometimes overtaken by other principles. While schools should not be ideological or partisan, when policies arise that are at odds with our fundamental values, we can and should take a position. There are two ways we can do so. First, we can speak out, using our voices to oppose injustice and express solidarity with marginalized or threatened groups, as we have done in the face of the Trump administration’s immigration ban. Since the ban was implemented, our university spoke out in support of the immigrants we are privileged to call our students, and in opposition to any policy that would demonize or exclude them. The university did so to stand for our academic values—immigrants enrich our school community and add vital new perspectives to our scholarship—and to advance our vision for a more inclusive, diverse society. While speaking out may not always lead to immediate results or policy changes, it is, I think, all the more important that we raise our voices when the road to a better world seems long, so that we may contribute to the work of nudging the present towards a more just future. Second, we can take a stand by taking action, coupling our words with specific deeds to mitigate the injustice we see, as schools did in opposition to apartheid. This action can take several forms—from participating in marches and demonstrations, to working with elected officials to craft policies that help create healthy populations. Indeed, as an activist school of public health, such work is, in many ways, already encoded in our institutional DNA. Our action is also represented by the actions we refuse to permit; when we decline, for example, to give an on-campus platform to voices that promote bigotry and hate.
Prompted by my evolving thinking on this issue, I suggest that there are three criteria we could consider when choosing whether to declare a position. First, we should take a position only when a core value is at stake. In our school’s value statement, we commit to “[creating] a respectful, collaborative, diverse, and inclusive community within SPH, and to [promoting] justice, human rights, and equity within and across our local and global communities.” We pursue these values while recognizing that our school and our society will, from time to time, fall short of them. However, when these lapses are the product of a concerted effort by the powerful to marginalize and exploit the weak, in the political realm or elsewhere, then it is necessary for us to take a more formal, organized stand. Second, we should only take a position when we think that doing so will make a substantive difference—when we think our involvement can help build or nudge a movement to either move policy in a healthier direction or prevent policy from encroaching on our academic values and the health of the populations we serve. Third, we must take care, when declaring a position, that we do not overextend ourselves. We cannot weigh in on every issue, nor should we seek to. In attempting to stand for everything, we run the risk of effectively standing for nothing by spreading our efforts too thin. It strikes me that if we follow the first two of these criteria, the third shall take care of itself, even if it feels at times, as perhaps is the case in the present, like issues that meet these criteria are happening with some regularity.
I hope everyone has a terrific week. Until next week.
Warm regards,
Sandro
Sandro Galea, MD, DrPH
Dean and Robert A. Knox Professor
Boston University School of Public Health
Twitter: @sandrogalea
Acknowledgement: I am grateful to Steven Barrett and to Eric DelGizzo for informing the thoughts that became this Dean’s Note.
Previous Dean’s Notes are archived at: https://www.bu.edu/sph/tag/deans-note/