Will Britain let China browbeat its universities?

Responding to complaints by promptly removing the source of irritation makes the commitment to academic freedom look hollow. (Source: Getty Images Europe/Bloomberg)

In 2021, the Russell Group of 24 leading British universities published an unequivocal statement of its commitment to protecting academic freedom. The institutions would “always champion the importance of free speech,” the group’s chief executive officer wrote, noting that diverse views and disagreement were fundamental to advancing knowledge. The group might want to have a word with its biggest member. At University College London, terms and conditions appear to apply.

A UCL lecturer was barred from teaching a research module she created and had been delivering for a decade after Chinese students complained that one of the exercises it contained was “provocative,” according to a thread she posted on Elon Musk’s X, following a report in the Telegraph newspaper. Michelle Shipworth, an associate professor of energy and social sciences, was told she’d been accused of bias, which was damaging the reputation of her employer and its prospects of attracting students from China.

It’s no great surprise to see principle come out the loser in a perceived clash between academic ideals and commercial pragmatism. UCL, based in central London, has more Chinese students than any other Russell Group university: 10,785 in the 2021-22 academic year, according to data from the Higher Education Statistics Agency. That also represented the biggest share of enrollment among the universities: 23 percent of UCL’s total intake of more than 46,000 students. Considering that overseas students in the UK pay on average 2.4 times as much in tuition fees as their domestic counterparts, they provide a critical revenue stream that any administrator would be loath to jeopardise.

Are these two imperatives really in conflict, though? The right not to be provoked or offended isn’t part of the deal in British education, in theory at least, and this is after all what all overseas students are paying for. “Universities must be places where students and staff can openly and rigorously question current orthodoxies and beliefs, and explore new areas of intellectual enquiry, regardless of whether this involves or leads to the expression of views and opinions that may be uncomfortable, offensive or upsetting,” the Office for Students, the UK’s independent higher education regulator, says on its web site.

That spirit of fearless inquiry dates back to the medieval era, when the first European universities were established and granted control over their own affairs by papal edicts and royal charters. And before that, to ancient Greece and the Socratic method, which aims to foster critical-thinking skills via a dialogue in which the teacher poses challenging questions to the student.

The UCL module that caused offense fits squarely into this tradition. The slide at issue posed the question: “Why does China have so many slaves?” It’s easy to understand how nationalist students might have bristled at this framing. But it’s also clear that the purpose of the exercise wasn’t to denigrate or discriminate against China or its people. It was, rather, an invitation to critically examine and rebut factual claims and use of data in a poorly constructed survey. As Shipworth pointed out, if the module had been taught for 10 years without incident, how did it suddenly become controversial? (A UCL spokesman told Sky News the issues raised were clearly concerning, and it was working to establish what happened.)

A one-party state like China operates under a different ethos. Truth, rather than being open to be discovered through a process of free questioning, has been decided, at least in the political realm, and is to be handed down from on high. As the country’s economic and geopolitical power has grown, the party-state has put more effort into trying to shape global perceptions of China. This has included attempts to restrict academic debate on subjects such as Taiwan and Tibet in countries from Australia and the US to Britain. UCL isn’t an isolated incident. The University of Nottingham closed its School of Contemporary Chinese Studies in 2016 following pressure from Beijing, Channel 4’s Dispatches reported in November (the university denied the school was closed for political reasons).

University leaders dealing with complaints of bias and cultural insensitivity should keep in mind this backdrop. Gauging the motivations of those who speak up may not be straightforward. Chinese students are monitored when they are abroad, and this may influence how they choose to express themselves.

Responding to complaints by promptly removing the source of irritation makes the commitment to academic freedom look hollow. In the end, it may also be bad for business. Britain’s worldwide reputation for educational excellence rests on its tradition of openness. If that is diluted every time a student professes discomfiture with the subject material, then all are being shortchanged. They deserve to get what they paid for.