BY AARON BARLOW

My embarkation on an academic career coincided with the rise of what we now call “social media,” then known as “the blogosphere.” At that time, many involved online cloaked themselves in anonymity in the mistaken belief that they couldn’t be discovered. That made me uncomfortable: There are many legitimate reasons for masking one’s identity but there was also great room for abuse. One of the reasons given for hiding was that participation in the blogs could hurt the career of a job seeker or a climbing instructor or assistant professor. Early on, I decided I would risk that. I wanted to take responsibility for my words–as I do for my actions.

Academic freedom had always, to me, carried with it individual responsibility for what each professor writes, says or does. This, obviously, is a personal responsibility, not something that can be mandated, but it is a critical part of the ethos of a professional academic.

As a group, while we must protect the academic freedom and freedom of speech of our colleagues–through law, contract and whatever other means come to hand, we have no control (nor should we have) over what they do, in fact, say or write. Nor should we. That should come from within.

Though the content of individual expression is rightfully decided upon by the individual, that does not mean there is no responsibility for that content. Each of us needs to be aware of the impact of our actions in the public sphere. This is particularly the case for academics, for they are protected not only by freedom of speech but by academic freedom, a right specific to expression by members of the profession and for specific reasons relating to fulfillment of professional responsibilities.

One of the things that I decided as I thought about this back in 2004 was that I would only attack in writing those I would not be harming in a material way. I could take on someone like David Horowitz or David Brooks: Neither of them would care nor, most likely, would they respond. On the other hand, I would never approach them in person other than politely. Even then, I would not engage them critically unless they had previously signaled willingness to spar.

I would never call out a graduate instructor publicly, as happened at Marquette University, nor would I berate even the famous in a Richmond, VA bookstore. I might not to act in such manners, no matter my profession, but I certainly will not, as an academic. It is my responsibility to myself as a member of the faculty to write and act with a certain degree of decorum. It is my responsibility, also, to my colleagues and students and even to my institution.

It is easy to forget this when we rise to the defense of colleagues who we see being punished for exercising freedom of speech and/or academic freedom.  In fact, we should forget it, at least, right then.

But right now, in a political milieu where decorum has all but disappeared, the question of my personal behavior as both a citizen and a faculty member rises within me with renewed force. On campus, this includes how I might react to a fascist speaking as an invited guest or to a crowd shouting down any speaker. I would hope I would stand up to protect that speaker’s ability to continue talking. But I would not be happy doing so. After an unfortunate incident at my own alma mater, I corresponded civilly with people on both sides to try to understand and, maybe, help resolve the issue–but I wasn’t there, so can’t say how I might have reacted had I been.

We are living in a time of crisis for both our democracy and our educational institutions. How it will resolve itself will depend, in part, on how we comport ourselves as individuals who recognize our responsibilities to both our system of government and to ourselves as academic professionals.

Though we must act in concert, how we behave is up to each of us. Unless we understand what that implies, we will never overcome.