A bill on academic freedom

Academics do not wait for constitutions and legislatures to declare them free. They have always believed themselves to be free to do what academics do, and have so acted. It is the juridical recognition of academic freedom that is rather belated.

Aristotle is a case in point. His treatises cover a tantalizing if sometimes baffling spectrum: from heavenly bodies to parts of animals—and then those books that so confounded Adronicus of Rhodes that he simply labeled them “coming after physics”—meta ta physica—and so, our Anglicized “metaphysics”! But Plato’s dialogues do no less. They cover a creditable range of subjects: he reflects on words and meanings in Cratylus, on love, in the Symposium, on cosmology and human origins in the Timaeus and on a variety of topics, politics definitely among them in the books entitled The Republic.

Neither Plato nor Aristotle deemed it necessary to obtain permission from state authorities to inquire, to write and to teach, although it does seem that Socrates got into trouble because of what he taught—but he was not the first, nor would he be the last academic persecuted by those who did not understand half of what he was saying.

But it was not only in the West that people were engaged in the tremendously practical endeavor of thinking—and thinking about thinking. The philosophy that one finds in the Upanishads is no less profound, as is the thoughtfulness and reflection one finds in the ponderous tomes of Chinese writings. Buddhists taught, doing so with admirable missionary zeal, as did Muslims later.

Instructive for us is the fact that the freedom of the scholar to raise questions, to question the unquestioned, to be bold about new ideas and to assemble a following has in some form always been institutionalized. Plato’s Academy and Aristotle’s Lyceum easily come to mind but so do the numerous temples in the East, some nestled in the most inaccessible of places where dialogues took place night and day on the esoteric as well as the mundane.

The wandering of the Peripatetic teachers was itself an institution. How then has it come to pass that system—or institution—has tamed, if not shackled, the freedom that gave rise to it in the first place?

The present-day academic institution in the Philippines is hemmed in on all sides by government regulations, and even if the phrase “the freedom to determine what shall be taught, who shall teach it, how it shall be taught and to whom it shall be taught” is recited with unction, the fact is that in many not-so-subtle ways the CHED determines what shall be taught—insofar as it prescribes subjects for different curricula, it determines who shall teach because it regulates the minimum requirements for instructors and professors, it determines how subjects are taught, because it requires prior permission for alternative delivery systems, and it determines to whom it shall be taught by regulating on the admission and promotion of students.

In short, through the years, the CHED has insidiously smitten the Constitution’s promise of academic freedom through a “death of a hundred qualifications”.

It is no small matter that because of a recent Supreme Court decision that expanded the representation of party-lists in Congress, a true visionary in education now sits as party-list representative of A-Teacher: Dean Ulpiano Sarmiento III, more popularly known as “Ulan”. His books will be found in almost all shelves of private school administrators and he is a sought-after lecturer in different education congresses and symposia.

He recently completed his master of laws degree at the Graduate School of Law of San Beda College, Mendiola. Only last week, he filed a House Bill crafted to be the Magna Carta of Academic Freedom.

While academic freedom is a constitutional guarantee for institutions of higher learning, its metes and bounds are largely a matter of jurisprudence. What Congressman Ulan has done is draft a Magna Carta that enshrines in one statute the guarantees and freedoms encompassed by this rather nebulous concept of “academic freedom.”

It assures the institution the freedom to determine its objectives—and consequently to formulate its academic and disciplinary policies in conformity with these objectives. It is utterly pointless for an academic institution to announce its supposed philosophy—and then to be compelled by government regulation to enact academic policies and disciplinary rules—including rules on admission, retention, promotion and dismissal of students—that are hardly reconcilable with its avowed objectives.

An institution for example can be set up by Muslims that gives itself to the scholarly examination of Muslim philosophy, theology and law, and that opens its doors only to Muslims—and it would be unconstitutional for government regulation to compel such an institution to admit all, or to compel it to adopt admission and retention policies inconsistent with its patently religious and sectarian objectives.

Jurisprudence has insisted that the academic freedom that the Constitution guarantees is principally the freedom of the institution. Consequently, the bill lends statutory certainty to other institutional freedoms, such as the freedom to devise alternative systems of delivery.

Recently, the CHED announced a moratorium on distance-education courses, or e-delivered courses. This is just one more instance of unconstitutional regulation. That is tantamount to government’s closing off one system of delivery that would otherwise be available to higher education institutions.

By the same token, does the CHED have the authority to determine whether or not term papers are to be assigned, or junior theses for baccalaureate degrees required? Clearly, government would be treading on forbidden ground, and no academic worth his title would sit idly and allow politics and the bureaucracy to ram down the bastion of academic freedom.

There is also the freedom of the professor and the researcher. The scholar may inquire into anything, research on any subject, write and publish on any matter that lies within his field of expertise. If he ventures beyond his field, it is not for the CHED or any other government institution to stop him. It is for his peers to remind him that he is out of line.

For some time we allowed MTRCB to choose what we should watch and what should be kept out of our screens. We have rightly rejected this brand of paternalism in respect to movies and television shows. Now, all that the MTRCB does is give the ratings—leaving it to viewers to decide for themselves whether to patronize excellence or slapstick. It is time we did the same with regard to higher education.

Let CHED give the ratings—but leave the students and the academics free to make their choices and police their own ranks. And that is why, Congressman Ulan’s bill is so timely—and so urgent! It used to be argued in defense of government regulation that the public should be protected from fakes and quacks. Who says that there are none of these in the very regulatory agencies of government themselves?

And from whence has come this un-blessed notion that the public is unable to make a judicious choice for itself? An excess of regulation is distrust of public discourse and public choice—and we should have outgrown this distrust by now. Not only must an academic be free to research and write. He must be free to publish and teach—to whomsoever may be wiling to matriculate or to enroll in his courses. I hope his fellow legislators will allow academics to thrive in our land by allowing Ulan’s bill smooth-sailing.–Ranhilio Callangan Aquino, Manila Standard Today

rannie_aquino@rannieaquino.com