2021.11.23 取消文化不是对学术自由的真正威胁

shiyi18

Cancel Culture Isn’t the Real Threat to Academic Freedom
Like any other institution, the academy is embedded in the power relations of a society.

By Yangyang Cheng
Illustration of Xi Jinping
Anthony Gerace
NOVEMBER 23, 2021
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The woman in the video is about the same age as my mother. She is speaking at a school-board meeting in Virginia as a concerned parent.

“I’ve been very alarmed by what’s going on in our schools,” she reads from prepared notes. “You are now teaching, training our children to be social-justice warriors and to loathe our country and our history.” Her voice is soft but stern. She recounts her youth in Mao Zedong’s China and the political fanaticism she witnessed firsthand, before calling critical race theory “the American version of the Chinese Cultural Revolution.” At the end of her remarks, the audience bursts into cheers. “Virginia Mom Who Survived Maoist China Eviscerates School Board’s Critical Race Theory Push,” blares the headline on Fox News.


As a Chinese academic working in the U.S., I watched the video and was disconcerted by its familiarity. The speaker’s views are not uncommon among many first-generation Chinese immigrants, who are grateful to their new country and eager to assimilate. Critical race theory, the analytical framework developed by a small group of legal scholars to address structural racism, has been morphed into a derogatory term by the right. The loudest conservative voices reject any effort to talk about racial inequality as divisive and dangerous, akin to the Cultural Revolution, Mao’s mass movement that plunged China into a decade of turmoil and claimed more than a million lives.

From the January/February 2021 issue: Uncovering the Cultural Revolution’s awful truths

At a time when authorities in Beijing have tightened their grip at home and are extending their reach abroad, when U.S.-China relations have tumbled to the lowest point in decades, and when students and scholars of Chinese descent face heightened scrutiny, the frequent invocation of my birth country in the discourse on free expression is not random or simply misguided: It’s a product and a tool of geopolitics. China has become a foil, the embodiment of authoritarian evil eroding American freedom.

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The use of the Cultural Revolution to characterize the state of free speech on American campuses reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of Chinese history and American society. Academic freedom is in peril. Focusing the blame on “cancel culture” or “social-justice warriors,” however, would be to miss the greater challenge. The root of the problem lies not in zealous individuals or foreign interference—it’s always easier to focus on incidents than to examine the system, to blame the other than to reckon with the self—but in relations of power that bend institutions to the will of the powerful.

Growing up in china, I was taught at a very young age that the two biggest taboos were politics and death. When I moved to the U.S. in 2009 for graduate school, I proudly declared to my family that I was leaving not just to pursue a degree but “to live in a free country.” One of the first things I did after arriving at the University of Chicago was type the words Tiananmen and 1989 into Google. I had sensed the presence of a seismic event in my birth year by tracing the contours of censorship—a date that cannot be mentioned, heightened surveillance around its anniversary, and my mother's refusal to answer any questions about it—but only in a foreign land was I able to reach the forbidden history and learn what my government had denied me.

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I was eager to exercise my newly gained freedoms and participate in American democracy, however limited opportunities are for an international student. I could not vote, donate to a candidate, or run for office, so I volunteered at a phone bank for Barack Obama’s reelection campaign and pressed questions to local candidates. When the Institute of Politics opened at the University of Chicago in 2013, I was among the organization’s first student leaders. By facilitating many of its events, I watched debates on free expression unfold: How should a university respond to offensive speech? Are trigger warnings necessary? Should the campus be a “safe space”? In 2014, the university released the Report on the Committee of Free Expression, which has become known as the Chicago Principles, reaffirming its commitment to “free, robust, and uninhibited debate.” In conversations with schoolmates, I defended the principles and used my upbringing in an authoritarian society to lecture my American friends, whom I saw as well-meaning but overly sensitive, spoiled by the rights they took for granted and blind to the dangers of ideological control.

In retrospect, I recognize the limits of my argument. By upholding free speech as a shield and dismissing grievances over the sometimes ill-conceived tactics of the aggrieved, such as shouting down a speaker, I was the one reluctant to receive new ideas, to understand why certain speech offends and how shifting norms around race, gender, and sexuality echo the deep wells of discrimination, the progresses made, and the long roads ahead. Still new to this country, I clung to an idealized version of the U.S. not because of what it is but because of what I needed it to be to justify my journey.

My awakening came in 2016, as the ugly truths of this nation were laid bare. The banner of “free expression” was hijacked by the far-right and its sympathizers, whose concept of an open-minded campus was measured by the most bigoted speaker it was willing to host. With a spike in hate crimes and waves of discriminatory policies, the marginalized were not fragile for pointing out the dangers to their being. As racism, misogyny, and xenophobia occupied the highest levels of government, these harmful ideas did not need the additional platform of a university event to be heard, nor could they be defeated by a mere exchange of words. What the most vocal proponents of “campus free speech” desired was not the freedom of inquiry but a license to offend, free from consequences.

Earlier this year, the Hong Kong prodemocracy activist Nathan Law was invited to speak at the University of Chicago’s Harris School of Public Policy. The Chinese Students and Scholars Association (CSSA) at my alma mater emailed the deans of the Harris School to express “grave concerns” that the invitation of Law fell “outside the purviews of free speech” and was “extremely hurtful, insulting and angering” to the Chinese student community.

Read: The end of free speech in Hong Kong

Law’s event at the Harris School proceeded as planned, but his talks at other U.S. campuses faced similar opposition. “HK activists’ free speech are threatened by pro-CCP (Chinese Communist Party) nationalists, such as CSSAs, which are CCP’s extended arms,” Law wrote on Twitter.

The long arm of the Chinese state does indeed pose serious threats to academic freedom, but the main risk is not from nationalistic students. CSSA members are diverse in political opinion, though the ones supportive of Beijing’s policies are usually the most vocal. The few who surveil or harass other members of the campus community should face discipline, but painting every Chinese student who holds pro-government views as a potential agent of Beijing erases individual agency and feeds racist paranoia. Students, however misinformed, are also entitled to free expression and, hopefully, will learn and correct their mistakes.

The vulnerability instead lies in the operational model of the university. With the privatization and commercialization of higher education, universities are run like businesses, in which a degree becomes a product, students become customers, and the world’s most populous country becomes the biggest overseas market. Numbering nearly 400,000 before the coronavirus pandemic, Chinese students make up more than a third of U.S. universities’ international student population. Schools are often underprepared for the influx of Chinese students, making them rely on organizations like CSSAs, which keep a cozy relationship with Chinese consulates but also provide services and a sense of community for overseas students.

The financial incentives from tuition income and other lucrative collaborations with Chinese entities have also exposed schools to Chinese-state pressure and downturns in bilateral relations. In 2017, the Chinese government cut funding for visiting scholars to the University of California at San Diego after the Dalai Lama gave the institution’s commencement speech. As tensions rose between Washington and Beijing, the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, home to the largest Chinese-student community in the U.S., took out a $61 million insurance policy against a potential drop in Chinese enrollment. Academic publishers including Cambridge University Press and Springer Nature have capitulated to Beijing’s censorship demands and blocked content for the Chinese market. Emblematic of both the power and the limitations of the academic community, Cambridge reversed its decision after widespread protests and threats of a boycott; Springer did not.

Over the past few years, there has been a growing awareness of Beijing’s influence on U.S. campuses, but the problem is routinely portrayed as uniquely “Chinese.” The blame is assigned to an external actor, and the solution is to impose a border—on money, ideas, and personnel. This amounts to little more than swapping one source of state pressure (foreign) for another (domestic). Protecting American universities from the “China threat” has become another lever in Washington’s tool kit, and jingoistic rhetoric fans xenophobia and racial animosity.


There are few better examples of a genuine challenge to academic freedom being misappropriated by geopolitics than the controversy around Confucius Institutes. Launched in 2004 by China’s Ministry of Education, the centers are located at colleges and universities around the world and offer lessons on Chinese language and culture. They are jointly financed and managed by Beijing and host institutions. Though the latter have varying degrees of autonomy, the Chinese government provides the candidate pool of teachers, preapproves much of the course material, and retains the right to terminate a contract in case of action that “severely harms the image or reputation” of the program.

In 2014, the American Association of University Professors and its Canadian counterpart issued a report criticizing Confucius Institutes for allowing third-party control of academic matters. That September, the University of Chicago ended its partnership with the program, after faculty and students petitioned for the closure on academic-freedom grounds. It was the first institution in the U.S. to do so. Few others followed at the time. Concerns over Confucius Institutes were notably separate from discourse on campus free expression and, initially, were largely ignored by school administrators. Existing centers continued and new ones opened, totaling more than 100 in the U.S. by 2017.

The figure has plummeted to only 36 this fall; at least eight more are scheduled to close. The pressure came not from the academy but from the U.S. government. Amid escalating rivalry between the U.S. and China, legitimate questions about censorship and self-censorship at these language centers have been swept up in a frenzied narrative of indoctrination and espionage. The focus has shifted from academic freedom to national security. Lawmakers call on schools in their districts to shut down Confucius Institutes. The National Defense Authorization Act prohibits universities that host these centers from receiving Department of Defense funding. As universities acquiesce to these demands, the future of Chinese-language learning remains uncertain. Flawed as they are, Confucius Institutes have fulfilled a genuine need, especially at smaller schools with fewer resources.


Discussions on this topic are incomplete without reflecting on the history and politics of foreign-language education, which has long been a low priority for state and federal governments except in moments of national emergency. Language skills are valued largely for their usefulness to the state, to advance foreign-policy agendas or improve economic productivity. In 1958, shortly after the launch of Sputnik 1, Congress passed the National Defense Education Act, which established federal support for foreign-language training. The law included a loyalty oath to the U.S. government and the Constitution as a condition of funding. Universities pushed back, boycotting the act’s student-loan program, and the loyalty provision was repealed during the Kennedy administration.

Decades later, Stewart E. McClure, the chief clerk of the Senate committee responsible for the legislation, reflected on his role in inventing the name of the law, a “God-awful title” that was politically expedient: “If there are any words less compatible, really, intellectually, in terms of what is the purpose of education—it’s not to defend the country; it’s to defend the mind and develop the human spirit, not to build cannons and battleships.”

Auniversity is not a public square. Miss the institutional context, and the understanding of academic freedom is flattened to an individual's right to free expression. Buried in the latest controversy over a disinvited speaker or a poorly worded email, the Board of Regents of the University System of Georgia has voted to effectively end tenure in the state’s public-university system. Donors have swayed hiring decisions at the University of North Carolina and tried to shape the curriculum at Yale. To the drumbeat of strategic rivalry, the State Department has placed various restrictions on Chinese students and researchers, the Justice Department is carrying out a “China Initiative” to combat economic espionage with a focus on academia, and funding for science, according to bills in Congress, is aimed at winning the competition against China. As a backlash to last year’s protests for racial justice and as a prelude to the next election cycle, more than two dozen states have introduced bills or passed laws that ban critical race theory at schools and limit teaching on racism and gender discrimination.


Read: The GOP’s ‘critical race theory’ obsession

I do not know whether proponents of these bans realize how much their position resembles that of Beijing and its followers, the red menace they rail against. An honest history lesson would reveal systemic oppression and implicate the powerful. The language of unity and national pride is weaponized to absolve the authorities and conceal the truth.

An ivory tower above and beyond the messy planes of politics is an illusion. The academy is not an abstraction. It has a history and depends on a set of material conditions to function. It’s not merely a meeting of minds but also a congregation of bodies, in a world where some bodies are valued more than others. Like any other institution, the academy is embedded in the power relations of a society, and relations of power, if not actively contested, are always reproduced. Regarding racist speech and critiques of racist speech as equal in a “marketplace of ideas” is not being neutral; it is perpetuating racism. Too often, discussions on “campus free speech” are distracted by superficial optics and overlook the underlying power dynamic. The privileged cry victim when their privilege is being challenged. The disenfranchised resort to aggressive tactics in a desperate attempt to be heard and are cast as the bully.


The solution to hateful speech is not outlawing speech; constructing and enforcing a ban yields more power to the already powerful. The path forward lies in leveling the terrains of injustice and empowering the marginalized, and that requires efforts from all of society. The academy is not an activist organization, but it has a professional duty to challenge orthodoxy and a moral obligation to speak truth to power. Academic freedom is not just freedom from pressures of the state or moneyed interests; more important, it’s the freedom to explore, to transcend boundaries, to discover new realms of knowledge and imagine new ways of being.

Since I left China, over the phone and through text messages, my mother has repeated a warning: “Focus on academics. Stay away from politics.” She was disappointed when I majored in physics; she had been hoping I would choose a more “feminine” profession, such as teaching high-school-English. She has, in any case, taken comfort in the thought that exploring the fundamental laws of nature will keep me far from the affairs of the state. I have not told her about my recent career change to research the ethics and governance of science, or the many articles I have written that are critical of the Chinese government. In the shadows of an oppressive regime, silence can be a language of love.

I reckon with the denial in my mother’s caution, a condition of enduring authoritarianism; staying away from politics means staying obedient to the state. We all inhabit political lives; the difference is between choosing passivity and exercising agency.


Every day, I go to work at one of the oldest institutions of higher learning on this continent. I’m reminded of the fact that this campus predates the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution, that universities outlive kings and popes, empires and dictators. As I walk past the storied halls and gothic spires, I’m also heavy with an awareness that legacies of slavery and colonialism mark this place. For most of the institution’s history, a body like mine—foreign, female, and nonwhite—was never accepted. My presence here is a fruit of past struggles. My belonging contends the borders of the academy. My humanity is not up for debate.

Yangyang Cheng is a postdoctoral fellow at Yale Law School and a particle physicist.



取消文化不是对学术自由的真正威胁
像其他机构一样，学术界被嵌入到社会的权力关系中。

作者：程艳阳
习近平的插图
Anthony Gerace
2021年11月23日

视频中的女子与我母亲年龄相仿。她正在弗吉尼亚州的一个学校董事会会议上作为一名关切的家长发言。

"我对我们学校里发生的事情感到非常震惊，"她念着准备好的笔记。"你们现在正在教导、训练我们的孩子成为社会正义的战士，厌恶我们的国家和我们的历史。" 她的声音很柔和，但很严厉。她讲述了她年轻时在毛泽东的中国以及她亲眼目睹的政治狂热，然后称批判性种族理论是 "美国版的中国文化大革命"。在她的讲话结束时，观众们爆发出欢呼声。福克斯新闻的标题是："从中国毛泽东时代幸存下来的弗吉尼亚州妈妈，抨击了学校董事会推行的批判性种族理论"。


作为一个在美国工作的中国学者，我看了这段视频，对其熟悉程度感到不安。演讲者的观点在许多第一代中国移民中并不罕见，他们对新国家心存感激，渴望同化。批判性种族理论是一小群法律学者为解决结构性种族主义而制定的分析框架，已经被右派演变成了一个贬义词。最响亮的保守派声音拒绝任何谈论种族不平等的努力，认为其具有分裂性和危险性，类似于文化大革命，毛泽东的群众运动使中国陷入十年的动荡，并夺走了100多万人的生命。

摘自2021年1月/2月号。揭开文革的可怕真相

在北京当局加强对国内的控制并将其触角延伸到国外的时候，在美中关系跌落到几十年来的最低点的时候，在华裔学生和学者面临更严格的审查的时候，在关于自由表达的讨论中频繁援引我的出生国并不是随意或简单的误导。它是地缘政治的一个产物和工具。中国已经成为一个陪衬，成为侵蚀美国自由的专制邪恶的化身。

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用文化大革命来描述美国校园里的言论自由状况，反映了对中国历史和美国社会的根本误解。学术自由正处于危险之中。然而，把责任集中在 "取消文化 "或 "社会正义斗士 "上，就会错过更大的挑战。问题的根源不在于狂热的个人或外国干涉--关注事件总是比审视制度更容易，指责他人比反思自我更容易，而是在于使机构屈从于强者意志的权力关系。

我在中国长大，很小的时候就被教育，最大的两个禁忌是政治和死亡。当我在2009年搬到美国读研究生时，我骄傲地对我的家人宣布，我的离开不仅仅是为了追求一个学位，而是 "为了生活在一个自由的国家"。到达芝加哥大学后，我做的第一件事就是在谷歌上输入天安门和1989年两个词。通过追踪审查制度的轮廓，我已经感觉到在我出生的那一年有一个地震事件的存在--一个不能提及的日期，在周年纪念日前后加强的监视，以及我母亲拒绝回答关于它的任何问题--但只有在异国他乡，我才能接触到被禁止的历史，了解我的政府所拒绝的东西。

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我渴望行使我新获得的自由，参与美国民主，然而对于一个国际学生来说，机会是有限的。我不能投票，不能给候选人捐款，也不能竞选公职，所以我在奥巴马连任竞选的电话银行做志愿者，并向当地候选人提问。2013年芝加哥大学政治学院成立时，我是该组织的首批学生领袖之一。通过促进其许多活动，我看到了关于自由表达的辩论：大学应该如何应对冒犯性的言论？是否有必要发出触发式警告？校园应该是一个 "安全空间 "吗？2014年，大学发布了《自由表达委员会报告》，该报告已被称为 "芝加哥原则"，重申其对 "自由、有力和无拘束的辩论 "的承诺。在与同学的交谈中，我为这些原则辩护，并利用我在专制社会中的成长经历来教训我的美国朋友，我认为他们是善意的，但过于敏感，被他们认为理所当然的权利宠坏了，对意识形态控制的危险视而不见。

现在回想起来，我认识到自己论点的局限性。我把言论自由当作盾牌来维护，并对受伤害者有时不周全的策略（如喊停演讲者）的不满不予理会，我是一个不愿意接受新思想的人，不愿意理解为什么某些言论会冒犯人，不愿意理解围绕种族、性别和性行为的规范的变化如何呼应歧视的深井、所取得的进步和未来的漫长道路。初到这个国家，我坚持理想化的美国，不是因为它是什么，而是因为我需要它是什么来证明我的旅程。

我的觉醒是在2016年，因为这个国家的丑陋真相被暴露出来。自由表达 "的旗帜被极右翼及其同情者劫持了，他们对开放的校园的概念是以其愿意接待的最偏执的演讲者来衡量的。随着仇恨犯罪的激增和一波又一波的歧视性政策，被边缘化的人并没有因为指出了他们的危险而变得脆弱。由于种族主义、厌女症和仇外心理占据了政府的最高层，这些有害的想法不需要大学活动的额外平台来听取，也不可能被单纯的言语交流所打败。最强烈的 "校园言论自由 "的支持者所期望的不是探究的自由，而是不计后果的冒犯许可。

今年早些时候，香港民运人士Nathan Law应邀在芝加哥大学哈里斯公共政策学院演讲。我母校的中国学生学者联谊会（CSSA）给哈里斯学院的院长们发了电子邮件，表示 "严重关切"，认为对罗的邀请 "超出了言论自由的范围"，对中国学生群体是 "极大的伤害、侮辱和激怒"。

阅读。香港言论自由的终结

罗永浩在哈里斯学院的活动按计划进行，但他在美国其他校园的讲座也面临类似的反对。"香港活动人士的言论自由受到亲CCP（中国共产党）的民族主义者的威胁，比如CSSA，它们是CCP的延伸手臂，"Law在Twitter上写道。

中国国家的长臂确实对学术自由构成严重威胁，但主要风险不是来自民族主义学生。綜援計劃的成員有不同的政治意見，但支持北京政策的成員通常是最有聲音的。少数监视或骚扰校园社区其他成员的人应该面临纪律处分，但把每一个持有亲政府观点的中国学生描绘成北京的潜在代理人，则抹杀了个人机构，并助长了种族主义妄想症。学生们无论如何被误导，也有权自由表达，并且希望他们能够学习并纠正自己的错误。

漏洞反而在于大学的运作模式。随着高等教育的私有化和商业化，大学像企业一样运作，学位成为产品，学生成为客户，世界上人口最多的国家成为最大的海外市场。在冠状病毒大流行之前，中国学生人数接近40万，占美国大学国际学生人数的三分之一以上。学校往往对中国学生的涌入准备不足，使他们依赖像CSSA这样的组织，这些组织与中国领事馆保持着密切的关系，但也为海外学生提供服务和社区感。

学费收入和其他与中国实体的有利可图的合作所带来的经济激励，也使学校面临中国国家的压力和双边关系的低迷。2017年，在达赖喇嘛在加州大学圣地亚哥分校毕业典礼上发表演讲后，中国政府削减了对该校访问学者的资助。随着华盛顿和北京之间的紧张局势加剧，拥有美国最大的中国学生社区的伊利诺伊大学厄巴纳-香槟分校购买了一份6100万美元的保险，以应对中国学生入学率可能下降的情况。包括剑桥大学出版社和施普林格自然出版社在内的学术出版商已经屈服于中国政府的审查要求，封锁了面向中国市场的内容。作为学术界权力和局限性的象征，剑桥大学在遭到广泛抗议和抵制威胁后改变了决定；施普林格则没有这样做。

在过去的几年里，人们越来越意识到北京对美国校园的影响，但这个问题通常被描绘成是 "中国人 "特有的。责任被归咎于一个外部行为者，而解决方案则是对资金、思想和人员施加边界。这只不过是将国家压力的一个来源（国外）换成另一个来源（国内）。保护美国大学免受 "中国威胁 "已成为华盛顿工具箱中的另一个杠杆，金戈铁马的言辞助长了仇外心理和种族敌意。


没有什么比围绕孔子学院的争议更能说明对学术自由的真正挑战被地缘政治所侵占。这些中心由中国教育部于2004年推出，位于世界各地的学院和大学，提供中国语言和文化课程。它们由中国政府和主办机构共同出资和管理。虽然后者有不同程度的自主权，但中国政府提供候选教师库，预先批准大部分课程材料，并保留在 "严重损害该项目形象或声誉 "的情况下终止合同的权利。

2014年，美国大学教授协会及其加拿大对应机构发布报告，批评孔子学院允许第三方控制学术事务。当年9月，在教师和学生以学术自由为由请愿要求关闭孔子学院后，芝加哥大学终止了与该项目合作。它是美国第一个这样做的机构。当时，很少有其他机构跟进。对孔子学院的关注与对校园自由表达的讨论明显不同，最初，学校管理者基本上没有理会。现有的中心继续存在，新的中心开张，到2017年，美国总共有100多所。

今年秋天，这一数字骤降至只有36家；至少还有8家计划关闭。这种压力不是来自学院，而是来自美国政府。在美国和中国之间不断升级的竞争中，关于这些语言中心的审查和自我审查的合理问题被卷入了灌输和间谍的狂热叙述中。重点已经从学术自由转移到国家安全。立法者们呼吁他们所在地区的学校关闭孔子学院。国防授权法》禁止主办这些中心的大学接受国防部的资助。随着大学对这些要求的默许，中文学习的未来仍然不确定。尽管孔子学院存在缺陷，但它们满足了真正的需求，特别是在资源较少的小学校。


如果不对外语教育的历史和政治进行反思，关于这个话题的讨论就不完整。长期以来，除了在国家紧急情况下，外语教育一直是州政府和联邦政府的一个低优先事项。语言技能的价值主要在于其对国家的有用性，以推进外交政策议程或提高经济生产力。1958年，在人造卫星1号发射后不久，国会通过了《国防教育法》，为外语培训提供了联邦支持。该法包括对美国政府和宪法的忠诚宣誓，作为资助的条件。各大学进行了反击，抵制该法案的学生贷款计划，而忠诚条款在肯尼迪政府期间被废除。

几十年后，负责该立法的参议院委员会的首席书记员斯图尔特-E-麦克卢尔（Stewart E. McClure）回顾了他在发明该法律名称方面的作用，这是一个 "糟糕的标题"，是政治上的便利。"如果说还有什么词不那么符合，真的，从智力上来说，教育的目的是什么--它不是为了保卫国家；它是为了保卫心灵和发展人类精神，而不是为了制造大炮和战舰"。

大学不是一个公共广场。缺少了机构背景，对学术自由的理解就变成了个人的自由表达权。在最近关于一个不被邀请的演讲者或一封措辞不当的电子邮件的争议中，佐治亚大学系统的执委会已经投票决定在该州的公立大学系统中有效地终止终身制。捐赠者已经左右了北卡罗来纳大学的招聘决定，并试图塑造耶鲁大学的课程。在战略竞争的鼓声中，国务院对中国学生和研究人员施加了各种限制，司法部正在实施一项 "中国倡议"，以学术界为重点打击经济间谍活动，而根据国会的法案，对科学的资助旨在赢得与中国的竞争。作为对去年种族正义抗议活动的反击，也作为下一个选举周期的前奏，有二十多个州提出法案或通过法律，禁止在学校开展批判性种族理论，限制关于种族主义和性别歧视的教学。


阅读。国民党对 "批判性种族理论 "的痴迷

我不知道这些禁令的支持者是否意识到他们的立场与北京及其追随者的立场有多相似，他们所抨击的红色威胁。一堂诚实的历史课会揭示出系统性的压迫，并牵扯到强权。团结和民族自豪感的语言被用来为当局开脱和掩盖真相。

凌驾于混乱的政治平面之上的象牙塔是一种幻觉。学术界不是一个抽象的概念。它有一个历史，并依赖于一系列的物质条件来运作。它不仅仅是思想的碰撞，也是身体的聚集，在这个世界上，有些身体比其他身体更受重视。像任何其他机构一样，学术界被嵌入到一个社会的权力关系中，而权力关系，如果不积极争夺，总是会被复制。将种族主义言论和对种族主义言论的批评视为 "思想市场 "中的平等，这不是中立，而是在延续种族主义。关于 "校园自由言论 "的讨论常常被表面的视觉效果所干扰，而忽略了背后的权力动态。有特权的人在他们的特权受到挑战时，就会喊出受害者。被剥夺权利的人则采取攻击性的策略，拼命想让别人听到自己的声音，结果被当成了恶霸。


解决仇恨言论的办法不是取缔言论；制定和执行禁令会给已经有权力的人带来更多的权力。前进的道路在于平整不公正的土地，赋予被边缘化的人权力，而这需要全社会的努力。学术界不是一个积极的组织，但它有挑战正统的职业责任和向权力说真话的道德义务。学术自由不仅仅是不受国家或金钱利益的压力；更重要的是，它是探索的自由，超越边界，发现新的知识领域，想象新的存在方式。

自从我离开中国后，通过电话和短信，我母亲一直在重复一个警告。"专注于学术。远离政治"。当我主修物理学时，她很失望；她一直希望我选择一个更 "女性化 "的职业，比如教高中英语。无论如何，她对探索自然界的基本规律将使我远离国家事务的想法感到安慰。我没有告诉她我最近的职业转变，研究科学的伦理和管理，或者我写的许多批评中国政府的文章。在一个压迫性政权的阴影下，沉默可以是一种爱的语言。

我在母亲的告诫中估计到了否认，这是一种持久的专制主义的条件；远离政治意味着对国家保持顺从。我们都居住在政治生活中；区别在于选择被动性和行使代理权之间。


每天，我都在这个大陆上最古老的高等学府之一上班。我提醒自己，这个校园比《独立宣言》和《美国宪法》还要早，大学比国王和教皇、帝国和独裁者都要长寿。当我走过那些充满传奇色彩的大厅和哥特式的尖顶时，我也意识到奴隶制和殖民主义的遗产在这里留下了深刻的痕迹。在该机构的大部分历史中，像我这样的身体--外国的、女性的、非白人的--从未被接受。我在这里的存在是过去斗争的成果。我的归属感与学术界的边界相抗衡。我的人性是不容置疑的。

程艳阳是耶鲁大学法学院的博士后研究员，也是一名粒子物理学家。