UnAlbertan

Today, four of my colleagues over at the Law School are appearing at the Supreme Court to argue on behalf of various intervenors in an important case: The Impact Assessment Act Reference. I’m not a lawyer, but I think I can imagine what an incredible thrill it must be to put on those funny black robes and make an argument in front of the highest court in the land. So, huzzah!

But a scan of social media this morning suggests that not everyone is thrilled. Why? Because all four of them are arguing against the Government of Alberta’s stance that the Act is an unconstitutional intrusion into provinces’ jurisdiction over natural resources.

This little kerfuffle is a microcosm of one of the tensions that publicly-engaged academics in Alberta experience. It’s not unique to Alberta, but I think it takes on a particular quality here.

Alberta is a distinctive place, economically and politically. The oil and gas industry has made the place fabulously wealthy, at least by Canadian standards. The province is the spiritual center of the Canadian Conservative movement.

The norms of university hiring mean that most academics aren’t from here. The academic job market is national (and sometimes international) and universities in Ontario, Quebec and BC graduate the bulk of PhDs in Canada.

Now, some academics are attracted to the distinctiveness of the province, or they read the room and settle right in. You can trace the origins of the Reform Party in part to lunchtime conversations held on the 7th floor of the UCalgary Social Science building back in the late 1980s. The so-called Calgary School was unique because it was a group of academics who were prominent and heavily politically engaged on the political right.

For the rest of us, having a public profile can sometimes be a little less comfortable, because we know that in the eyes of some, our views are … unAlbertan.

Writing today, Christopher Rufo, an American conservative activist who some say invented the conflict over critical race theory argues that states are entitled to shut down academic departments that are “taxpayer-funded sinecures for activists who despise the values of the public whom they are supposed to serve.”

I don’t think we’ve gone so far down the road to Florida that we’re in danger of having a full-blown dust-up over CRT or academic freedom here in Alberta. Or at least I hope not. But I can imagine versions of that line about ‘activists who despise the values of the public’ are being muttered in some circles today.

What does it mean for an academic to ‘serve the public’? It’s a big question and all I have to offer is the version of an answer that I’ve worked out for myself over the years.

The most proximate public is our students. It’s our obligation to inform them and introduce them to ideas beyond those that have been readily accessible. To create space for them to figure out where they fit, politically. I was out of the classroom for several years and when I went back, I was struck by the change in the demographic composition of the student body. But it shouldn’t have surprised me, because it’s a reflection of the changing face of Alberta. In this context, making sure students can see a place for themselves in Alberta’s political community is an important priority. This means that talking about race, and gender and intersectionality isn’t optional.

When speaking to the broader public, academics have a couple of responsibilities. First, to inform. But second, and more controversial, to offer critical perspectives. This involves offering analyses that aren’t part of the local consensus, whether it’s talking about energy transition or reconciliation with Indigenous people. Offering these perspectives is - believe it or not - a form of loyalty.

The idea that academics must be loyal to the state or the local consensus is profoundly dangerous. In 1931, Italian academics were required to take an oath «I swear fidelity to the King, to his Royal successors and to the Fascist regime, and I swear to respect the [National Fascist Party’s] Statute and the other laws of the State, and to fulfil my teacher’s and all academics’ duties with the aim of preparing industrious and righteous citizens, patriotic and devoted to the Fascist regime. I swear not to be or ever become a member of organizations or parties whose activities are incompatible with my official duties». In contemporary China, there’s no comparable oath, but loyalty to the state/party is imposed from above and below.

A lively, engaged academy bolsters a community. It brings new ideas that can challenge the status quo. On days when faculty members do or say things that challenge government, democratic governments grit their teeth and let it pass. Because the alternative is to take a step on the road to authoritarianism, a road too many US states are starting to travel.

So, law school colleagues: Huzzah! Enjoy your day in court.