In the view of Mr Coetzee there is a special disaster available for the West as it heads unerringly along the way of Romans et al …Mail & Gaurdian this comentary on the loss of the University of Cape Towns’s academic freedom should be read with this post by Mikhail Emelianov :How To Fake Your Way Through Life: Non-Academic Job on what to do once you realize your PhD is worthless and will not allow you to obtain a tenured position in the beloved field you have toiled at. These points of view have a strange synchronicity to me that makes me think that the dream of a humanist education and the failure of the Enlightenment project is now in the throes of the death it deserves, as I sit here in Rwanda reading a critique of the colonial project by Mahmood Mamdani “When Victims become Killers: Colonialism, Nativism and the Genocide in Rwanda” whle daily engaged in designing and building new suburbs for an elite to return to while the poor are in a dreadful position and eking out a subsistence from patches of remnant agricultural land in the midst of the city.
Novelist and academic JM Coetzee’s foreword to University of Cape Town fellow Professor John Higgins’s new book.
Thank you for letting me see your essays on academic freedom in South Africa. The general question you address – “Is a university still a university when it loses its academic autonomy?” – seems to me of the utmost importance to the future of higher education in South Africa.
Hardly less important is the junior cousin of that question, namely: “Is a university without a proper faculty of humanities (or faculty of humanities and social sciences) still a university?”
As you point out, the policy on academic autonomy followed by the ANC government is troublingly close to the policy followed by the old National Party government: universities may retain their autonomy as long as the terms of their autonomy can be defined by the state.
The National Party had a conception of the state, and the role played by education within the state, to which such tenets of British liberal faith as academic freedom were simply alien. The indifference of the ANC to academic freedom has less of a philosophical basis, and may simply come out of a defensive reluctance to sanction sites of power over which it has no control.
But South African universities are by no means in a unique position. All over the world, as governments retreat from their traditional duty to foster the common good and reconceive of themselves as mere managers of national economies, universities have been coming under pressure to turn themselves into training schools equipping young people with the skills required by a modern economy.
You argue – cogently – that allowing the transient needs of the economy to define the goals of higher education is a misguided and shortsighted policy: indispensable to a democratic society – indeed, to a vigorous national economy – is a critically literate citizenry competent to explore and interrogate the assumptions behind the paradigms of national and economic life reigning at any given moment. Without the ability to reflect on ourselves, you argue, we run a perennial risk of relaxing into complacent stasis. And only the neglected humanities can provide a training in such critical literacy.
I hope that your book will be high on the reading list of those politicians busy reshaping higher education in the light of national priorities, as well as of those university administrators to whom the traditional humanities have become alien ground. I hope that, having read and digested what you have to say, those politicians and administrators will undergo a change of heart. But alas, I do not believe that your hopes and mine have much chance of being realised.