Elsewhere, in the U.S., there continue to be both brutal police clampdowns – following the April-May 2024 upsurge of student protest against Israeli genocide – and university administrations’ repression against non-violent campus dissent. Germany’s banning or academic ‘cancellation’ of pro-Palestine scholars, e.g. since early April, of the renowned medic and Rector of Glasgow University Ghassan Abu-Sittah, economist Yanis Varoufakis from the University of Athens, and political philosopher Nancy Fraser of the New School for Social Research. There are deepening concerns about violence and repression – including violations of academic freedom – across specific parts of the African continent, such as in Darfur, Sudan, and in the DRC, and many other hotspots.
Contestation of space in South African intellectual life became even more heated in September-October 2024 as two institutions – Johannesburg’s ‘New South Institute’ (supported by major Zionist funders) and the University of Cape Town – drew criticism for events featuring what were considered to be pro-genocide guest speakers. In the former case, an ‘African Global Dialogues’ conference controversy led to
‘genocide-washing’ charges against the Institute, leveled by the South African Palestine Solidarity Campaign, given the Boycott Divestment Sanctions movement’s condemnation of pro-Israeli academics. Sufficient pressure was mounted to withdraw both major African scholars from the event, and permission to use the event site (initially the Constitutional Court). The University of Cape Town leadership was persuaded to postpone an address by the publisher of
Bild on grounds of protest against that German publication’s pro-genocide stance.
The politicisation of academic expression is familiar territory for South Africans. Two days after his 11 February 1990 release from 27 years in prison, Nelson Mandela spoke in Soweto – not far from what is now a University of Johannesburg (UJ) campus –
linking to broader violations of human, civil and political rights: “The crisis in education that exists in South Africa demands special attention. The education crisis in black schools is a political crisis. It arises out of the fact that our people have no vote and therefore cannot make the government of the day responsive to their needs. Apartheid education is inferior and a crime against humanity.”
At the time, South African universities and individual scholars faced condemnation from many academic institutions and societies across the world, due to the recognition that all forms of pressure – especially “Boycott Divestment Sanctions” (BDS) – against a pariah apartheid system would help weaken the regime. BDS-academia occurred in spite of the recognition that in some instances, universities
did assist in hosting democratic, non-racial activities, including education that ultimately prepared black scholars to govern. BDS-academia continued, nevertheless, because it contributed to the broader political strategy of delegitimising an apartheid state committing a crime against humanity. Partly as a result of non-violent sanctions pressure, the country avoided full-fledged civil war and was steered to democracy by 1994 – and as a result, the lifting of academic boycotts was one of the rewards.
The same theme Mandela expressed in 1990 – that education occurs in political context – was taken up on 9 May 2024, when then Minister of International Relations and Cooperation Naledi Pandor
delivered the University of Johannesburg second annual Shireen Abu Akleh Memorial Lecture, “The Responsibility of the Academy in a Time of Genocide.” As
UJ News reported, Pandor forcefully reminded of our responsibility to cherish and protect our hard-won academic freedoms:
“It is vital, I believe, that academics and academic institutions devote more time to the decline in Freedom of Expression, and to the growing threat to it. The decline began well before the advent of embedded journalists. But it has lately snowballed, and we need to be very worried about this development.”
The most acute challenge Pandor discussed was what the International Court of Justice
described as Israel’s “plausible” violation of Palestinian rights under the Genocide Convention since 8 October 2023 (following Hamas’ attack on Israel the day before). For our purposes when considering academic freedom, there is no doubt Israel’s attack on Gaza is of unprecedented humanitarian concern, in part because of the twelve universities that existed in 2023, none have been left standing, and thousands of their students, faculty and leaders are now dead.
According to UN Human Rights Council special rapporteurs: “With more than 80% of schools in Gaza damaged or destroyed, it may be reasonable to ask if there is an intentional effort to comprehensively destroy the Palestinian education system, an action known as ‘scholasticide’.”
Citing this report, Pandor observed,
“After six months of military assault, more than 5 479 students, 261 teachers and 95 university professors had been killed in Gaza, and over 7 819 students and 756 teachers have been injured – with numbers growing each day. At least 60 percent of educational facilities, including 13 public libraries, have been damaged or destroyed and at least 625 000 primary and secondary school students, and over 100 000 college and university students in Gaza have no access to education. The IDF has damaged or destroyed nine out of every ten schools, at least 65 of which were UNRWA-run facilities, sheltering thousands of displaced civilians.
“Between October 2023 and January this year, the IDF bombed all the universities in Gaza. Consequently, Gaza’s treasured intellectual landmarks, including the Islamic University of Gaza, the North Gaza and Tubas branches of Al-Quds Open University, and Palestine Technical University have all been destroyed. Another 195 heritage sites, 227 mosques and three churches have also been damaged or destroyed, including the Central Archives of Gaza, containing 150 years of history. Israa University, the last remaining university in Gaza was demolished by the Israeli military on 17 January this year.
“The obliteration of Palestine’s schools, universities, and libraries furthers the settler-colonial project of erasure because these are spaces that nurtured the creation and transmission of knowledge. The destruction of schools, universities, libraries, and research facilities has deprived Palestinians of the histories and knowledge housed in these institutions. Attacks on education are often a key indicator of state intolerance of views that do not reflect state thinking. They should not be tolerated.
“The international academic community should have sent a clear message that those who target schools and universities in other states will be held responsible, and that accountability for these violations will include an end to collaboration, an end to donations and financial support. Universities are the bedrock of knowledge and truth and require freedom to do their essential work of knowledge generation and innovation. World universities must keep a watching brief on the reconstruction of Palestine and insist that the programme includes the reconstruction of education at all levels.”
Implications for University of Johannesburg debates on academic freedom These incidents provide an urgent context for the UJ Senate Academic Freedom Committee to propose the UJ Senate take a firm stand, combining a recommitment to academic freedoms – including offering some version of a safe haven to repressed scholars (as did, for example, the New School for Social Research and Brandeis University during the 1930s) – with an awareness that official university relations are in certain cases not justified with institutions that do not (in some cases cannot) ensure the most basic human rights and academic freedoms are protected.
Debates on how to apply academic freedom in such situations began in earnest during apartheid when South African scholars – of all races and at all educational institutions, including Rand Afrikaans University (the predecessor name of UJ) – were subject to BDS as a general strategy. Such an approach was called for by the African National Congress and allies after Albert Luthuli won the Nobel Prize in 1961. Four years later, in the immediate wake of the apartheid state’s banning of historians Jack Simons and Eddie Roux, 500 academics from 34 British universities
declared their intent to “Protest against the practice of racial discrimination and its extension to higher education [and] pledge that we shall not apply for or accept academic posts in South African universities which practice racial discrimination.”
BDS-academia strategies were strengthened in subsequent decades and endorsed by scores of international scholarly associations (until relaxed from 1990 and ended in 1994). Although the methodology was unrefined and tools of BDS-academia were sometimes excessively blunt (even by the acknowledgement of some of the primary proponents), the strategy behind all such BDS tactics was honourable: to delegitimise and weaken a state engaged in what the United Nations and international courts termed a crime against humanity.
The blanket treatment of all South African academics during the BDS process was, however, debated in the early 2000s and found to be wanting when applied to Israel (given that many critics of that state worked for progress within universities). The second major application of BDS was in 2005 when in Palestine, the BNC established consensus among a wide range of civil society groups drawing from refugees in exile, Palestinians under occupation in the West Bank and Gaza Strip, and the discriminated Palestinian citizens of the Israeli state.
As the BNC statement
explained, the group was “inspired by the struggle of South Africans against apartheid and in the spirit of international solidarity, moral consistency and resistance to injustice and oppression.” Like South Africa where the demand for “one person, one vote, in a unitary state” was the strategic demand that required BDS tactics, the Palestinians made three conditions for ending BDS against Israel: 1) ending its occupation and colonisation of all Arab lands occupied in 1967 and dismantling the Wall; 2) recognising the fundamental rights of the Arab-Palestinian citizens of Israel to full equality; and 3) respecting, protecting and promoting the rights of Palestinian refugees to return to their homes and properties as stipulated in UN Resolution 194.
As the Palestinian BNC statement on BDS-academia
observes, there is now a more selective approach than was used against South African apartheid, requiring those who support BDS-academia to be more nuanced and rigorous in their selection of targets, so as to pinpoint scholarly relations with Israel that explicitly strengthen its state and apartheid system. Within the BNC, the Palestine Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel (PACBI) began in 2004 to
qualify how freedom of expression should be understood, drawing upon the definition
provided in 1999 by the United Nations Committee on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights (UNESCR):
Academic freedom includes the liberty of individuals to express freely opinions about the institution or system in which they work, to fulfill their functions without discrimination or fear of repression by the state or any other actor, to participate in professional or representative academic bodies, and to enjoy all the internationally recognized human rights applicable to other individuals in the same jurisdiction. The enjoyment of academic freedom carries with it
obligations, such as the
duty to respect the academic freedom of others, to ensure the fair discussion of contrary views, and to treat all without discrimination on any of the prohibited grounds.
Hence, the BNC promotes international recognition to courageous Israelis who oppose the oppression of Palestinians:
“Mere affiliation of Israeli scholars to an Israeli academic institution is therefore not grounds for applying the boycott.” (Hence, for example, in 2014 several South African universities warmly welcomed well-attended lectures by Israel’s most celebrated historian, Ilan Pappé, who seven years earlier had been fired by Haifa University for
recognising the BNC’s argumentation as valid.)
Before 2024, the most famous precedent for which a BDS-academia determination was made occurred in March-April 2011 when after a major investigation and debate, the UJ Senate voted 72-45 to break off its official research relationship with Ben Gurion University on
grounds of “institutional complicity and active collaboration with the Israeli military, occupation and apartheid practices.” This did
not prevent individuals from ongoing research, but it sent a very strong signal against gross discriminatory practices in a context of overall political repression.
There are many reasons various Israeli universities are being targeted at present, including their location in part within the Occupied Territories, the discriminatory ratios of students and staff (in which Palestinian Israelis are overwhelming underrepresented), and their service to the state’s machinery of oppression. In April 2024, for example, international solidarity
support was given to renowned Palestinian feminist Nadera Shalhoub-Kevorkian, Lawrence Biele chair in law at Israel’s Hebrew University and the global chair in law at Queen Mary University of London. Hebrew University had suspended her, explicitly for using the word genocide to describe the attack on Gaza, and for calling for a cease-fire. The international pressure was sufficient to
reverse the suspension, albeit not to prevent her subsequent arrest by the Israeli state.
Also in the current context, one of the clearest recent
examples of students objecting to their university’s role in the genocide, was when the Massachusetts Institute of Technology’s student group Jews for a Ceasefire built an encampment in April 2024, to protest “MIT’s direct research ties to the Israeli Ministry of Defense.” After more than 2000 arrests of students across the U.S., several major universities have felt sufficient pressure to
accept the BDS-academia demands in full or in part.
However, in general, it is not particularly useful for any institution, no matter how powerful prestigious, to conduct BDS-academic activities
in the absence of a broader solidaristic strategy of the sort established by broad-based Palestinian civil society (via the Boycott National Committee) in 2005
. Even in relation to many campaigns for justice on our own continent,
there is not yet such a movement for BDS-academia, e.g. in countries where African Union criticism and sanctions occasionally applied, usually at the behest of oppressed people.
There are, of course, countless examples of countries characterised by humanitarian concerns and indeed gross human rights violations that are condemned by broader societies, oppressed intellectuals, the African Union, international human rights organisations – and that occasionally attract political and economic sanctions. They include, in recent years, Eswatini, against a repressive monarchy; Zimbabwe, for its flawed democracy; Morocco, over its occupation of the Western Sahara; Uganda, due to official homophobia; Sudan and South Sudan, suffering brutal civil wars; sites of extreme resource looting such as the Democratic Republic of Congo, Liberia or Sierre Leone; and many coup regimes, especially in West Africa, that have taken power by force.
Likewise we have not
yet seen BDS-academia calls in many repressive countries – including new partner members of the BRICS+ bloc (invited to join at the August 2023 Johannesburg summit) such as Iran, Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Egypt and Ethiopia – where democratic rights are regularly violated or where, for example, women are oppressed and rise up to demand a rightful place in academia. In such cases, even without a formal BDS-academia process, it may be useful for UJ to take a formal, public stand, in defense of academic freedom.
As another example with enormous implications, we can expect climate-related BDS to become an increasingly serious demand from those with intergenerational awareness. In the case of South Africa, there will inevitably be such trade sanctions imposed against exports to the West that contain high levels of embedded greenhouse gases (under the rubric of the European Union’s 2026 Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism, also endorsed by the United Kingdom for imposition in 2027). Indeed the prospect of a potential return to a U.S.
climate-denialist government – led by Donald Trump in 2025 – reminds of his administration’s 2017 withdrawal from United Nations climate summits and
2018 orders to cancel or blunt federally-funded research, and anti-U.S. reactions (e.g. by former French president Nicolas Sarkozy – as well as Nobel laureate Joe Stiglitz and Naomi Klein – that included a
trade-based sanctions proposal). UJ has many ties to U.S. institutions which were (in the late 2010s) – and could again come – under financial or ultimately administrative and even legal pressure
not to engage in research on the problem of greatest long-term consequence to humanity, in a clear violation of academic freedom.
A final point of concern is the way BDS is being tarred as a campaign of academic hypocrisy insofar as South African universities now come under pressure to reject pro-Israeli speakers, as in the case of University of Cape Town as well as the New South Institute’s African Global Dialogue conference. It is a forceful campaign based on a higher responsibility, suggesting that like all speech, there are limitations to protections of academic speech.