Monday, 
  August 
  24, 
  2015 
  
 
  
 
  
Provost 
  Daniel 
  Linzer 
  
Northwestern 
  University 
  
633 
  Clark 
  Street 
  
Evanston, 
  IL 
  60208-­‐1101 
  
 
  
 
  
Dear 
  Dan, 
  
 
  
It 
  is 
  with 
  a 
  sense 
  of 
  deep 
  sadness 
  and 
  frustration 
  that 
  I 
  write 
  to 
  resign 
  my 
  position 
  as 
  Professor 
  
of 
  Clinical 
  Medical 
  Humanities 
  and 
  Bioethics, 
  effective 
  August 
  31, 
  2015. 
  I 
  have 
  enjoyed 
  a 
  
memorable 
  and 
  productive 
  decade 
  at 
  Northwestern 
  University. 
  So 
  much 
  good 
  has 
  come 
  from 
  
this 
  position, 
  for 
  me 
  and 
  for 
  the 
  people 
  I 
  have 
  tried 
  to 
  help 
  through 
  my 
  work. 
  I 
  will 
  always 
  be 
  
grateful 
  to 
  my 
  students 
  and 
  colleagues 
  at 
  Northwestern 
  as 
  well 
  as 
  to 
  the 
  librarians 
  and 
  
administrators 
  (including 
  you) 
  who 
  for 
  many 
  years 
  supported 
  my 
  work. 
  
 
  
When 
  in 
  early 
  2014 
  I 
  learned 
  that 
  my 
  dean, 
  Eric 
  Neilson, 
  had 
  given 
  the 
  order 
  to 
  censor 
  Bill 
  
Peace’s 
  article 
  in 
  the 
  issue 
  of 
  Atrium 
  that 
  I 
  edited, 
  it 
  seemed 
  like 
  a 
  cosmic 
  joke, 
  or 
  perhaps 
  a 
  
publicity 
  stunt 
  being 
  arranged 
  by 
  Penguin 
  Press. 
  I 
  was 
  doing 
  the 
  final 
  fact-­‐checking, 
  lawyering, 
  
and 
  page-­‐proofing 
  of 
  Galileo’s 
  Middle 
  Finger: 
  Heretics, 
  Activists, 
  and 
  the 
  Search 
  for 
  Justice 
  in 
  
Science, 
  which, 
  as 
  you 
  know, 
  is 
  a 
  book 
  about 
  academic 
  freedom 
  that 
  focuses 
  particularly 
  on 
  
researchers 
  who 
  get 
  in 
  trouble 
  for 
  putting 
  forth 
  challenging 
  ideas 
  about 
  sex. 
  I 
  could 
  not 
  believe 
  
my 
  own 
  dean 
  would 
  censor 
  an 
  article 
  because 
  it 
  recounted 
  a 
  consensual 
  blowjob 
  between 
  a 
  
nurse 
  and 
  a 
  patient 
  in 
  1978. 
  
 
  
Compounding 
  this 
  abuse 
  was 
  the 
  subsequent 
  institution 
  of 
  what 
  we 
  in 
  the 
  program 
  called 
  “the 
  
censorship 
  committee”—a 
  new 
  “editorial” 
  committee 
  formed 
  to 
  thereafter 
  approve 
  all 
  content 
  
of 
  Atrium, 
  a 
  committee 
  including 
  representatives 
  of 
  the 
  dean’s 
  office 
  and 
  the 
  PR 
  department. 
  
Katie 
  Watson, 
  editor-­‐in-­‐chief 
  of 
  Atrium, 
  had 
  one 
  meeting 
  with 
  this 
  group 
  and 
  appropriately 
  
decided 
  “no 
  more.” 
  
 
  
Although 
  remaining 
  publicly 
  silent 
  on 
  a 
  serious 
  case 
  of 
  censorship 
  made 
  me 
  feel 
  like 
  an 
  abject 
  
hypocrite, 
  I 
  stayed 
  quiet 
  about 
  the 
  censorship 
  and 
  the 
  formation 
  of 
  the 
  censorship 
  committee 
  
for 
  as 
  long 
  as 
  I 
  did 
  out 
  of 
  fear 
  for 
  my 
  program 
  colleagues’ 
  jobs. 
  None 
  ever 
  told 
  me 
  that 
  she 
  or 
  he 
  
was 
  afraid 
  for 
  her 
  or 
  his 
  own 
  job, 
  but 
  they 
  frequently 
  mentioned 
  being 
  worried 
  for 
  the 
  jobs 
  of 
  
others 
  in 
  the 
  program, 
  and 
  suggested 
  we 
  had 
  better 
  not 
  anger 
  Dean 
  Neilson 
  further. 
  
 
  

  
  

2 
  

Nevertheless, 
  when 
  Kristi 
  Kirschner 
  moved 
  to 
  resign 
  over 
  this 
  issue 
  in 
  late 
  2014, 
  I 
  found 
  myself 
  
distraught 
  at 
  the 
  thought 
  of 
  losing 
  her. 
  At 
  that 
  point, 
  in 
  December 
  of 
  2014, 
  I 
  met 
  with 
  Vice 
  Dean 
  
for 
  Education 
  Diane 
  Wayne 
  and 
  Vice 
  Dean 
  for 
  Academic 
  Affairs 
  Bill 
  Lowe. 
  The 
  meeting 
  was 
  
positively 
  Orwellian, 
  and 
  I 
  gave 
  up 
  and 
  left 
  after 
  only 
  20 
  minutes. 
  After 
  I 
  explained 
  to 
  them 
  that 
  I 
  
had 
  a 
  major 
  book 
  coming 
  out 
  on 
  academic 
  freedom, 
  and 
  that 
  I 
  was 
  being 
  put 
  in 
  an 
  untenable 
  
position 
  with 
  respect 
  to 
  the 
  censorship 
  of 
  Atrium, 
  their 
  only 
  response 
  was 
  “congratulations 
  on 
  
your 
  book.” 
  I 
  made 
  clear 
  that 
  if 
  they 
  restored 
  Atrium 
  in 
  full, 
  I 
  would 
  stay 
  quiet 
  about 
  the 
  
censorship, 
  but 
  that 
  otherwise 
  I 
  could 
  not 
  stay 
  quiet 
  forever. 
  They 
  made 
  clear 
  they 
  intended 
  to 
  
“monitor” 
  Atrium. 
  They 
  said 
  that 
  work 
  they 
  paid 
  for 
  was 
  work 
  they 
  could 
  control, 
  but 
  had 
  no 
  
answer 
  to 
  my 
  follow-­‐up 
  questions 
  about 
  whether 
  that 
  meant 
  I 
  should 
  run 
  all 
  of 
  my 
  journal 
  
article 
  manuscripts, 
  book 
  manuscripts, 
  op-­‐ed 
  manuscripts, 
  and 
  even 
  potential 
  blogs 
  and 
  tweets 
  
past 
  them. 
  
 
  
In 
  April 
  of 
  this 
  year, 
  you 
  kindly 
  invited 
  me 
  to 
  meet 
  with 
  you 
  to 
  talk 
  about 
  my 
  book, 
  which 
  had 
  
been 
  published 
  the 
  month 
  before. 
  I 
  took 
  the 
  opportunity 
  to 
  discuss 
  the 
  censorship 
  of 
  Atrium 
  
with 
  you, 
  and 
  we 
  had 
  a 
  follow-­‐up 
  email 
  exchange. 
   
  But 
  nothing 
  changed. 
  A 
  month 
  later, 
  Bill 
  
Peace 
  and 
  I 
  had 
  had 
  enough, 
  and 
  I 
  told 
  Diane 
  Wayne 
  we 
  were 
  going 
  public. 
  She 
  responded, 
  “At 
  
the 
  current 
  time 
  we 
  have 
  no 
  objection 
  to 
  Katie 
  reposting 
  the 
  prior 
  published 
  Atrium 
  issues 
  on 
  
the 
  humanities 
  and 
  bioethics 
  website.” 
  Disgusted 
  that 
  the 
  fear 
  of 
  bad 
  publicity 
  was 
  apparently 
  
the 
  only 
  thing 
  that 
  could 
  move 
  this 
  institution 
  to 
  stop 
  censorship, 
  and 
  wondering 
  what 
  “at 
  the 
  
current 
  time” 
  was 
  supposed 
  to 
  mean, 
  Bill 
  Peace 
  and 
  I 
  finally 
  decided 
  to 
  go 
  public. 
  
 
  
Thereafter, 
  on 
  May 
  26, 
  2015, 
  the 
  Foundation 
  for 
  Individual 
  Rights 
  in 
  Education 
  (FIRE) 
  wrote 
  to 
  
President 
  Morton 
  Schapiro 
  and 
  Dean 
  Neilson 
  to 
  object 
  to 
  what 
  had 
  happened. 
  FIRE 
  told 
  me 
  that 
  
universities 
  almost 
  always 
  respond 
  to 
  their 
  letters, 
  but 
  I 
  predicted 
  Northwestern 
  would 
  not. 
  
Sadly, 
  I 
  was 
  right. 
   
  
 
  
In 
  recent 
  weeks, 
  I 
  have 
  appealed 
  to 
  you 
  to 
  acknowledge 
  the 
  censorship 
  and 
  to 
  assure 
  me 
  it 
  will 
  
not 
  happen 
  again. 
  What 
  I 
  got 
  in 
  response 
  from 
  you 
  on 
  August 
  12 
  was 
  this 
  statement: 
  
 
  
I 
  have 
  discussed 
  academic 
  freedom, 
  in 
  general, 
  and 
  Atrium, 
  specifically, 
  with 
  the 
  
Dean 
  of 
  the 
  Medical 
  School. 
  Both 
  he 
  and 
  I 
  assure 
  you 
  of 
  the 
  importance 
  of 
  
academic 
  freedom, 
  and 
  that 
  the 
  University 
  and 
  the 
  Medical 
  School 
  take 
  very 
  
seriously 
  our 
  commitment 
  to 
  academic 
  freedom 
  in 
  terms 
  of 
  the 
  publication 
  of 
  a 
  
journal 
  that 
  we 
  have 
  agreed 
  to 
  publish. 
   
  Indeed, 
  when 
  the 
  editor 
  of 
  Atrium 
  
requested 
  that 
  the 
  back 
  issues 
  be 
  made 
  available 
  again 
  online, 
  reversing 
  that 
  
editor's 
  previous 
  decision, 
  those 
  issues 
  were 
  immediately 
  restored 
  to 
  the 
  web 
  
site. 
  
 
   
  
The 
  ongoing 
  publication 
  of 
  any 
  journal 
  depends 
  on 
  a 
  number 
  of 
  factors 
  that 
  are 
  
quite 
  distinct 
  from 
  academic 
  freedom. 
   
  The 
  approval 
  and 
  support 
  of 
  the 
  Medical 
  
School 
  or 
  the 
  University 
  for 
  publication 
  of 
  a 
  journal 
  that 
  bears 
  the 
  institution's 
  
name 
  would 
  depend 
  on 
  the 
  publication 
  making 
  a 
  significant 
  contribution 
  to 
  our 
  
educational 
  and 
  scholarly 
  mission. 
   
  Other 
  considerations 
  are 
  if 
  faculty 
  are 
  
actively 
  involved 
  as 
  editors 
  and 
  writers 
  so 
  that 
  the 
  journal 
  really 
  represents 
  the 
  
efforts 
  of 
  the 
  University, 
  and 
  if 
  the 
  journal’s 
  readership 
  and 
  impact 
  are 
  
substantial 
  enough 
  to 
  justify 
  the 
  expense 
  and 
  effort 
  of 
  production 
  and 
  
distribution. 
   
  The 
  decision 
  of 
  an 
  institution 
  whether 
  or 
  not 
  to 
  publish 
  a 
  particular 
  

  
  

3 
  
journal 
  in 
  no 
  way 
  restricts 
  individual 
  faculty 
  from 
  publishing 
  their 
  academic 
  work 
  
in 
  other 
  suitable 
  journals. 
  

 
  
I 
  found 
  this 
  very 
  disappointing. 
  In 
  point 
  of 
  fact, 
  the 
  suggestion 
  that 
  Katie 
  Watson 
  was 
  to 
  blame 
  
for 
  the 
  censorship 
  of 
  the 
  journal—when 
  she 
  clearly 
  acted 
  in 
  fear 
  in 
  response 
  to 
  Dean 
  Neilson’s 
  
order—is 
  misleading, 
  unfair, 
  and 
  insulting. 
  It 
  places 
  responsibility 
  on 
  the 
  wrong 
  person 
  and 
  
evades 
  the 
  institution’s 
  responsibility 
  for 
  the 
  censorship. 
   
  
 
  
What 
  happened 
  here 
  had 
  nothing 
  to 
  do 
  with 
  an 
  institutional 
  decision 
  whether 
  to 
  fund 
  some 
  
new 
  proposed 
  journal 
  in 
  the 
  future. 
  In 
  this 
  instance, 
  Dean 
  Neilson 
  gave 
  the 
  order 
  to 
  censor 
  an 
  
already-­‐published 
  article 
  in 
  an 
  ongoing 
  journal, 
  an 
  article 
  that 
  had 
  been 
  peer-­‐reviewed, 
  prior 
  to 
  
publication, 
  by 
  multiple 
  Medical 
  Humanities 
  and 
  Bioethics 
  faculty 
  members, 
  including 
  Kristi 
  
Kirschner, 
  Kathryn 
  Montgomery, 
  and 
  me. 
  
 
  
The 
  plain 
  and 
  simple 
  fact 
  is 
  that 
  Dean 
  Neilson 
  acted 
  impulsively 
  and 
  wrongly 
  in 
  this 
  situation. 
  
We 
  all 
  make 
  mistakes, 
  but 
  this 
  was 
  a 
  profound 
  mistake 
  that 
  cut 
  to 
  the 
  very 
  heart 
  of 
  academic 
  
freedom. 
  It 
  should 
  have 
  been 
  acknowledged 
  and 
  corrected 
  immediately. 
  That 
  is 
  most 
  definitely 
  
not 
  what 
  happened. 
  Instead, 
  what 
  happened 
  was 
  denial, 
  avoidance, 
  blame-­‐shifting, 
  and 
  
evasion. 
  To 
  this 
  day, 
  the 
  university 
  has 
  not 
  admitted 
  its 
  mistake, 
  and 
  it 
  has 
  not 
  affirmed 
  its 
  
commitment 
  to 
  academic 
  freedom 
  in 
  a 
  way 
  that 
  makes 
  clear 
  that 
  similar 
  incidents 
  will 
  not 
  occur 
  
in 
  the 
  future. 
  This 
  failure 
  should 
  be 
  embarrassing 
  to 
  an 
  otherwise 
  great 
  university. 
  
 
  
As 
  a 
  consequence, 
  I 
  now 
  find 
  myself 
  in 
  the 
  painful 
  position 
  of 
  having 
  to 
  choose 
  between 
  the 
  
work 
  I 
  do—which 
  has 
  been 
  and 
  presumably 
  always 
  will 
  be 
  high-­‐risk 
  and 
  controversial—and 
  
loyalty 
  to 
  my 
  colleagues, 
  who 
  are 
  reasonably 
  afraid 
  that 
  my 
  work 
  might 
  further 
  irritate 
  the 
  dean 
  
in 
  the 
  future, 
  with 
  unpredictable 
  consequences 
  for 
  them 
  and 
  for 
  our 
  program. 
  I 
  cannot 
  continue 
  
to 
  work 
  in 
  such 
  circumstances 
  and 
  in 
  such 
  an 
  institution. 
   
  Vague 
  statements 
  of 
  commitment 
  to 
  
the 
  principle 
  of 
  academic 
  freedom 
  mean 
  little 
  when 
  the 
  institution’s 
  apparent 
  understanding 
  of 
  
academic 
  freedom 
  in 
  concrete 
  circumstances 
  means 
  so 
  little. 
  Hence, 
  my 
  resignation. 
  
 
  
As 
  you 
  know, 
  because 
  you 
  were 
  kind 
  enough 
  to 
  read 
  it, 
  my 
  most 
  recent 
  book, 
  on 
  academic 
  
freedom, 
  was 
  made 
  possible 
  because 
  I 
  came 
  to 
  Northwestern 
  University. 
  It 
  happened 
  because, 
  
as 
  I 
  took 
  on 
  one 
  controversial 
  issue 
  after 
  another—first 
  the 
  Bailey 
  transsexualism 
  controversy, 
  
then 
  the 
  Chagnon/Tierney 
  fiasco 
  in 
  American 
  anthropology, 
  then 
  the 
  prenatal 
  dexamethasone 
  
intervention 
  disaster—university 
  leaders 
  defended 
  my 
  academic 
  freedom 
  when 
  they 
  received 
  
often 
  sharp 
  criticisms 
  of 
  my 
  work. 
  Time 
  and 
  again, 
  my 
  academic 
  freedom 
  was 
  protected 
  by 
  
Northwestern 
  University. 
  Northwestern 
  University 
  enabled 
  me 
  to 
  work 
  effectively 
  and 
  
confidently, 
  for 
  a 
  full 
  decade, 
  in 
  the 
  service 
  of 
  the 
  disempowered 
  and 
  the 
  wronged. 
  For 
  that, 
  I 
  
am 
  deeply 
  grateful. 
   
  
 
  
But 
  I 
  no 
  longer 
  work 
  at 
  that 
  institution. 
  I 
  no 
  longer 
  work 
  at 
  a 
  university 
  that 
  fearlessly 
  defends 
  
academic 
  freedom 
  in 
  the 
  face 
  of 
  criticism, 
  controversy, 
  and 
  calls 
  for 
  censorship. 
  Now, 
  I 
  work 
  at 
  a 
  
university 
  at 
  which 
  my 
  own 
  dean 
  thinks 
  he 
  has 
  the 
  authority 
  to 
  censor 
  my 
  work. 
  An 
  institution 
  in 
  
which 
  the 
  faculty 
  are 
  afraid 
  to 
  offend 
  the 
  dean 
  is 
  not 
  an 
  institution 
  where 
  I 
  can 
  in 
  good 
  
conscience 
  do 
  my 
  work. 
  Such 
  an 
  institution 
  is 
  not 
  a 
  “university,” 
  in 
  the 
  truest 
  sense 
  of 
  that 
  
word. 
  
 
  

  
  

4 
  

Thank 
  you 
  for 
  engaging 
  with 
  me 
  about 
  this 
  matter. 
  I 
  do 
  appreciate 
  that, 
  as 
  well 
  as 
  the 
  support 
  
you 
  gave 
  me 
  over 
  the 
  years. 
  I 
  will 
  miss 
  working 
  for 
  the 
  real 
  Northwestern 
  University 
  very 
  much. 
  
 
  
Sincerely, 
   
  
 
  

 
  
Alice 
  D. 
  Dreger, 
  Ph.D. 
  
Professor 
  of 
  Clinical 
  Medical 
  Humanities 
  and 
  Bioethics