We are grateful to the many LIS professionals who have engaged with the University to discuss the reinstatement of Professor Salaita and to reiterate the principles of our profession to Chancellor Wise and others in the University’s administration. This gratitude extends to the many who feel the chilling effects of the University Board’s decision: professors, adjuncts, staff, students, and others who have signed petitions or taken other actions to protect the values of academic freedom at UIUC. Their actions shine light on the path we hope to take together, the path to maintaining a community environment that does not easily fall silent, succumb to uninformed opinions, and rush to reactionary decisions. We hope that other LIS professionals–students, professors, librarians, and more–will join us on the path toward resisting censorship and collusion by signing this open letter.
My fellow students and I publicly express our grief, disappointment, outrage, gratitude, empathy, and resolve. Most importantly, we show the strength of our commitment to intellectual freedom. We honor the communities of which we are part and the members who have raised their voices already. We write as ourselves, as individuals, as whole people. We do not claim to represent any established University institution, organization, or entity. Please share our open letter widely and join us.
“Incivility” is necessary for some voices to be heard, for the stakes of any particular debate to be apparent, for conversations to result in meaningful change. A colleague supportive of Salaita, who has served in administrative positions for several years now, posted this morning on Facebook, “People in upper admin with whom I’ve worked closely for years are now unwilling even to make eye contact with me. Inclusive Illinois.” That right there is the problem with making “civility” the boundary of conversation. “Civility” only works if both parties are already operating from a position of equality and already in mutual agreement on the need for the conversation. It doesn’t work if a powerful participant refuses to acknowledge that…the less powerful participant has an issue that needs to be discussed. It also doesn’t work when only the powerful participant gets to define where the outer bounds of civility lie. Civility commits us to a university where existing injustices remain entrenched and silenced voices stay that way.
“As Library and Information Science (LIS) practitioners, students and scholars, we are committed to the principles of our field: to the free access to and flow of information and to the intellectual freedom of all. We are shocked and dismayed by the unilateral decision on the part of Chancellor Phyllis Wise and the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Board of Trustees to rescind the employment of Dr. Steven Salaita based on his speech in social media.”
Steven Salaita is an outspoken, prolific author and dedicated researcher who has a long and venerable history of public commentary on US foreign policy – as it pertains to Israel, to be sure, but also on other matters that could be deemed controversial by some. Certainly the University of Illinois was aware of this when it offered Salaita a contract and invited him to move his work, his family and young children and his life to central Illinois and to contribute his intellectual labor to this institution.
We seek to radically reshape and remake the institution in more equitable ways. True solidarity cannot pay lip service to feminist, de-colonial, anti-racist projects while maintaining individual investments in a system that works for only the most privileged bodies. Marginalized individuals cannot but participate in the oppression of other marginalized people if they are invested in academia’s current structure. Increased “representation” merely reifies the system rather than expands the possibilities for solidarity, for change.
“Your degree, your reading list, your completion of a single course at a university can’t automatically make you my ally. Allyhood requires action and understanding. Tell me you’re my ally, and I’ll ask you how you work to end racism and sexism in your everyday life. You can’t dismantle systems of oppression by reciting Angela Davis quotes.”
This past Monday, June 30, 2014, The ALA Special Presidential Task Force on Equity, Diversity & Inclusion had its first, albeit informal, gathering. The Task Force (TF) was convened as one means of responding to BCALA’s statement denouncing the American Library Association’s decision to hold the 2016 Annual Conference in Orlando, Florida.
The meeting consisted mainly of each member of the TF getting to know the others in a casual, self-directed atmosphere, creating a safe space for talking about differences and the issues we are meant to address, and figuring out what our immediate first steps are supposed to be. This approach goes a long way toward building consensus, which we will definitely need later on.
I personally find the issue before us very daunting. I shrink before it. The decision of the TF co-chairs to establish our first meeting as a conversation, intent on honoring and acknowledging each member’s humanness and good intentions, made my anxiety subside some. The charge, “we will change the world,” became exciting and not so scary. I feel I can trust the process, my co-members, or, at least, the co-chairs of the TF.
When we parted, one of the co-chairs mentioned that the hotel where we had our meeting–the Las Vegas Hotel, formerly known as the Las Vegas Hilton–was home to Star Trek: The Experiencefor the entire 10 years it existed. How appropriate. IDIC should be our TF motto.
Fast forward to this past Friday, July 4, 2014. The birthday of the United States of America. I have complicated feelings about this holiday, the American patriotism and nationalism on display, and my living in this nation. When I became a naturalized citizen over 10 years ago, I swore to defend the Constitution of the United States, its laws, and defend its existence as a nation, “without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion.”
What wasn’t part of that oath is what people like me are getting in return for our allegiance. There are still moments when I feel like I am not so loved or wanted by my adopted nation. Even though I am obliged to defend it with everything I hold dear, including my life, I feel I can not, should not, expect anything more in return. It’s enough that I got this nifty plastic-and-polyester flag, an ornate certificate, and a passport that will pretty much grant me entry into a lot of ports. Right?
I’m with Uncle George. The things I got during the Naturalization Ceremony are mere tokens. The true prize is the responsibility of being an American citizen.
American democracy is vitally dependent on good people who cherish the ideals of our system and actively engage in the process of making our democracy work.
I say the same goes for the work we need to do within ALA. As I became, and remain, a librarian because of the ideals of the profession, I am vitally concerned about its living up to its founding ideals. Let’s work together to make this so. Live long and prosper.
Recent events have caused me quite a bit of dismay. But as Gil Scott-Heron says, the revolution will put us in the driver’s seat. So, where do we want to go?
Do not allow white critics to assert their privilege and demand that you shift the conversation to smoother terrain, one which allows them to ignore their own complicity in the systems that continue to oppress people of color. Allow no one tell you that your work is not important. Write, research, and teach with revolutionary rage, as if the very future of this country depends on it. Because it does.
I like to write. I also like to read, watch, and observe. I love playing rpg video games. I'm an academic librarian. All of these end up on my blog. All posts are drafts. I make no special claim to authority or talent. I just try, try again.
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