High priests of academia – The Critic - DNS Africa Resource Center

The public are reading academic output, and they don’t like what they see
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It would appear that the tide of institutional distrust and frayed tolerance is now coming hard for academics. This should come as no surprise. Like so many established institutions, academia stands at a pivotal crossroads, where the ivory towers we inhabit are under the increasingly keen scrutiny of those who fund, support, and ultimately depend on our scholarship, and we academics are increasingly visible. Where once, you might have encountered an academic in the occasional newspaper article, now it seems we and our scholarship are everywhere.
Academic critical theories are taught in schools, expert-driven policies are shaping public health responses, and specialists are advising you on how to raise your children, approach your work, and even how to think, with failing to do so defined as abuse. Academics are no longer distant figures; they are engaging with public life directly, especially on social media. “Academic Twitter” became a prominent space where many got to know us — particularly during the pandemic.
But to know us was not, it would seem, to love us.
Recent political developments suggest just how badly it is going. In the US, particularly in Florida, university reforms have thrust into the spotlight, with state-mandated cuts to DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) programs and “grievance studies” departments. Similarly, in the Netherlands, the new right-wing populist government is targeting English language programs and the humanities. Increasingly, academics in the Netherlands are given information on social safety and how to deal with threats and harassment. In both countries, academic conduct and activities became major election issues. This is not surprising, as universities have increasingly waded into politically charged disputes, often taking sides in ways that were once rare; now every issue seems like the formerly once-in-a-generation Anti-Apartheid divestment movement demanding university-wide response.
Academics on the Agenda — A Dangerous Place
Academics should never aspire to be on any election agenda. Why?
It suggests a disconnect so vast between academics and the public that it necessitates political intervention over real material needs. This threatens a core pillar of the ivory tower’s very existence: its independence. Universities play a vital role in the modern world. They collect, curate, develop, and disseminate cultural knowledge. As the world shifts toward a technology — and knowledge-driven economy, with powerful interests raising new questions about what it means to be human, the need for independent scholars working with integrity has never been more crucial.
We can’t live almost entirely off public resources and claim utter unaccountability
Yet, instead of remaining impartial, many academics have become increasingly vocal, positioning themselves as a self-declared intellectual ecclesiological aristocracy. For an ever-growing number of colleagues, activism and societal transformation have become their primary academic goals. Their mission? To “drive change.”
Increasingly, I see that many of us act as though we have an unrestricted right to apply our judgments — not only in our research but also in shaping the policies of publicly funded universities, which we treat as our own domain of near-total authority — as the clergy once did church institutions; ours by divine right.
Since 2020, this tendency has been impossible to ignore: academics often assume a privileged position in social discourse, claiming their expertise grants them unique access to the truth and the right to govern. The public is told to “trust the science”, yet if that science isn’t explained in ways that make sense and respond coherently to questions and critiques, it becomes inaccessible.
This is not merely a problem limited to those on Twitter; it reflects a deeper cultural issue within academia — a mindset about who we are and how we perceive and present ourselves, even amongst our own peers.
Historically, this kind of thing has a short half-life in a democracy. Contemporary democracies need academic expertise “on tap”, but it goes sideways if academics adopt the pretence of being “on top”. Or, to put it in the parlance of the current flavour of pedagogical guidance, our most effective and sustainable role is to act as a “guide on the side”, not a “sage on the stage”.
Academic Freedom Versus Unaccountable Scholarship
Academic freedom is celebrated as a sacred ideal and an essential resource, but it can never be absolute; it comes with an implicit responsibility to balance that independence with accountability. It isn’t just normatively important that we know our place; it is practically vital to maintain the independence that we have. When academics want to make a difference in the world, we can’t expect the world not to want to make a difference in us. And the fact is, the world always wins in a battle with … academics.
Universities and academic disciplines are not untouchable aristocracies, nor are they sacrosanct, existing forever by some natural order. As a human institution, their continued existence is grounded in a depletable stock of public trust and legitimacy. Like any institution, it requires accountability to persist. This is doubly true in a modern academy entirely dependent on public spending for its existence as we know it.
We draw up on the stock of trust, and we draw it down. Lately, I fear we have been drawing down more than we used to. To address this, academics must be more prepared to give an account of what we do, at a minimum, in terms that non-experts can understand. If our scholarly work is not accessible or understandable to those outside our field, we risk losing our legitimacy. If our research abstracts are so esoteric that even other academics struggle to comprehend them, it’s time to rethink how we present our ideas. If some of our work really is too esoteric to explain, this is okay now and again, so long as we don’t at the same time argue its authority on deciding public matters. But we might want to take notes on how abstract physics has taken to professionally validating “public scientists” whose job it is to communicate the esoteric to the public, and wonder why this isn’t more common in other fields.
By giving an account, I mean just that. Just as independent central banks need to explain what they’re doing and why, whilst not subject to direct legislative rebuke, academics should meet the same standards in their dealings with the public.
Perhaps, in order to craft clearer, more digestible narratives — ones that communicate not just what we’re doing, but why it matters, and how it contributes to broader knowledge and understanding — we will need to train graduate students differently. Today, many grad students are extremely focused in their graduate training on a narrow subfield very early. But, to communicate and work publicly, academics are more in need of a broad basis in their larger disciplines and their connections to others so that they can connect their specialised work and areas of more general knowledge readily. No graduate students should leave their department without a good “pub pitch” for the educated non-specialist of their work.
This could serve the quality of academic work, make it more interesting, and bolster public confidence. But still, with a full stock of legitimacy, the public can handle that sometimes we need to do things they find pointless, but we should, at the very least, be interesting and legible.
If this reality challenges our self-image as absolutely independent lords of that which all ideas touch, perhaps we should reconsider the nature of our institutions? Those who would prefer entirely private universities, free from public subsidy, should ask themselves whether they are prepared for the consequences. A shift to a system entirely devoid of public funding would likely result in the contraction of many academic fields and the diminishment of the public good we aim to preserve, but it would be free from public influence.
Ultimately, academic independence is not an entitlement; it’s a bargain. And with that bargain comes the obligation to be accountable — not just to our peers within academia, but to the public that sustains us. Our role as scholars is not to retreat into an ivory tower, but to engage openly, humbly, and meaningfully with the world beyond.
It’s time to read the room. We can’t live almost entirely off public resources and claim utter unaccountability. This is not now nor has it ever been sustainable, as universities across the west are learning again.
Integrity and Openness
I, in particular, worry about this issue in part because my scholarly focus is on constitutional political institutions — how states and organisations function and endure. Understanding the university’s role and survival is essential for preserving its benefit. Additionally, the socialisation I received in graduate school was in a community of political science scholars wary of the dangers when other social science disciplines became too politically interventionist with too much assumed authority in the mid-20th century, losing funding and public trust. We were taught to tread carefully with partisan politics and activism in our research and public outreach.
It wasn’t until working in interdisciplinary settings, particularly in Europe, that I realised many of my colleagues didn’t share this cautious approach. And since the middle of the last decade, there has been a falling away of that caution. What I saw on social media, whilst tempting to join, was alarming in its potential consequences.

Lately, it seems the humanities and interdisciplinary studies are running the experiment that political scientists ran in the pre-war period, psychologists ran in the 1950s, sociologists ran in the 1960s, economists in the 1990s, and now a general culture of “research for public impact” and “solving global problems” with our research beckons for all. In those cases, as now, particularly disciplines bathed in public regard and influence drove many plans for an improved world. In each case, the result was a loss of public trust, funding, and reputation that left marks for decades.
Today, Critical theory, queer theory, gender theory, and the various radical feminisms that have somehow appeared in public school curricula (at our dining tables during the pandemic), a post-modern spirit — echoed in revised mission statements — suggest that scholarship, since it can never actually be neutral, should therefore lean into this fact and be as activist for the good of society as possible. Unfortunately, it is determining the good that is the thorniest struggle in any complex issue, and in a free society, something we have chosen not to leave to a subgroup “set apart” like philosopher-kings for the purpose.
A recent case illustrated the frustration growing with the influence of certain academic movements, supercharged with streams of low-brow misogyny and anti-intellectualism common online, when a new PhD graduate posted a celebratory photo of her thesis abstract, which generated enormous support and backlash. The thesis, an example of interdisciplinary literary scholarship, employed critical theoretical frameworks that many found “triggering”. Yet, despite its relatively tame content for the genre of interdisciplinary literature dissertations, the post went viral, amassing 117 million views.
Some critics, including social scientists and public intellectuals, took issue with claims made about the societal impact of literature, particularly when the claims lacked empirical grounding. For example, one line from the thesis suggested that “ … smell very often invokes identity in a way that signifies an individual’s worth and status in an inarguable manner that short-circuits conscious reflection,” raising questions about the basis for such broad generalisations and their implications for structures of oppression and unconscious bias. Why would we put stock in such general claims about human meaning-making, or the larger claims implied about the manner in which they “structure our social world” (which the author claimed on her staff website was the implication of her thesis) when the source of data is not observations of the real world, but a selection of works of modern literature? Those critics argued that literature, whilst valuable, cannot offer definitive claims about human behaviour, cognition, and social impact without the observational data social sciences provide. To this critique, they were often told they lacked the expertise or knowledge of literary theory sufficient to understand the work or evaluate its claims or that their motives were in bad faith. These arguments are all too familiar in public spaces today, and particularly online.
The most troubling response came when the scholar told a critic that his objections were “a thinly veiled attempt to undermine the quality of my work; it should be pointed out that you have no authority to do so. It was, and should be, left up to experts in my field and discipline to determine whether my work is a valuable contribution to knowledge”. This response, dismissive of legitimate critique, reflected a broader issue within academia, where claims of intellectual authority often go unchecked.
Whilst this scholar was largely composed in her responses, this assumption of unaccountability is becoming all too common. Social media is a public space, and when academics engage with the public in public, we must be ready to answer for our work in ways that are accessible, transparent, and respectful of differing opinions. The trust of the public is what sustains academic independence, and we must remain humble and open to critique if we are to preserve that trust.
Stewardship and Accountability
But these public outbursts and the troubling rise of political interference should remind academics that we are stewards of knowledge, tasked with accountability not just within our disciplines but to the broader public. Gatekeeping should be about maintaining quality and relevance, not about shielding our community from valid scrutiny or tasks motivated by anything other than the central purpose entrusted to us by the public. As Wesley Yang noted in his exchange with Dr. Louks, when gatekeeping fails and nonsense prevails, it jeopardises our institutions’ credibility.
In this era of transparency, where social media has made academia more visible and accountable, we must engage as public servants, not as superior beings. The public’s patience with unaccountable entitlement is thin, and we must adapt to genuinely serve our patrons.
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