Academic Boycotts Hurt Dissidents Most

“We, Russian scientists and scientific journalists, declare a strong protest against the hostilities launched by the armed forces of our country on the territory of Ukraine. This fatal step leads to huge human losses and undermines the foundations of the established system of international security. The responsibility for unleashing a new war in Europe lies entirely with Russia.”

These were the opening words of an open letter written by the Russian scientific community just hours after the invasion of Ukraine. Within days, over 7,000 Russian scientists, including many members of the Russian Academy of Sciences, had signed the letter. Two weeks later, under a new law prohibiting the discrediting of the Russian armed forces and the “spreading of misinformation,” signing a similar letter could lead to imprisonment. Today, in Russia, even wearing blue sneakers with yellow soles can result in a hefty fine. The fate of such imprisoned dissidents as Ilya Yashin and Vladimir Kara-Murza, and the death of Alexei Navalny, have effectively silenced scientists, deterring them from expressing even a word of criticism against the war.

It’s worth remembering this open letter when, in years to come, we analyze Polish academics’ behavior in the first months following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022. In solidarity with our Ukrainian colleagues, whom some of us hosted in our homes and employed at our universities and institutes, we felt that boycotting Russian science was a given. One by one, universities severed all ties with Russia, discontinued scientific exchanges and joint projects with Russian scholars. Many of us refused to review Russian scientific publications and projects. I myself, when invited to referee for the journal Psychology in Russia in the spring of 2022, responded with the words of the Ukrainian defenders of Snake Island: “Russian warship, go fuck yourself.”

I must admit, I am ashamed of what I typed on my computer back then.

Academic circles typically serve as bastions of reason and nuance during times of war or authoritarian rule. Of course, heroic acts are rare, especially in periods of intense repression. But it is often universities and scientific institutes that call for reforms, greater openness, and ultimately, political change. In Poland, for instance, the academic protests of March 1968 were a foundational experience for the democratic opposition under the communist regime. The dissident movement of the 1970s and 1980s was largely composed of university and research-institute employees. It’s symbolic that in 1989, the delegation from the dissident side left for roundtable negotiations from the building of the Institute of Sociology at the University of Warsaw.

This is why, during the communist regime, Western countries eagerly welcomed young Polish scholars. Graduates of scholarships in France or the United States not only brought back scientific skills but also served as a cultural and civilizational bridge to the West. Scientists catalyzed the erosion of the Iron Curtain. That was true even in 1981, when the communist regime imposed martial law and the United States froze contacts with the People’s Republic of Poland, suspending government guarantees for loans, halting the sale of technology, and stopping supplies for agriculture. But academic scientists were exempted from the boycott. It was clear that visits by scientists, scholarly conferences, and joint publications were the best path to the regime’s eventual downfall.

The same is true in Russia today. Research conducted before the invasion of Ukraine showed that academic circles were much more critical of Kremlin policies than the rest of the Russian population.

In mid-August 2024, the American Association of University Professors averred that “academic boycotts are not in themselves violations of academic freedom; rather, they can be considered legitimate tactical responses to conditions that are fundamentally incompatible with the mission of higher education,” thus revising its 20-year-long policy of opposing academic boycotts. This reversal is the consequence of a recent wave of pro-Palestinian protests on university campuses.

Although the AAUP statement suggests that an academic boycott should target only institutions and not individual scholars and teachers engaged in ordinary academic practices, it is obvious that individuals are already severely affected by such sanctions. When Israeli institutions are excluded from international research projects, it is individual researchers who are, in fact, excluded. When international exchanges with Israeli universities are canceled, specific students are denied the opportunity to travel on scholarship. If Israel were excluded from European science-funding bodies and journals stopped accepting articles affiliated with Israeli universities — as boycott supporters have demanded — Israeli scientists would likely have to leave the country. After all, how can you conduct large experiments without funding or the ability to publish results?

Currently, there are hundreds of studies conducted by Israeli universities focused on the psychological effects of the occupation, effective methods of conflict resolution, and interventions designed to deradicalize Israeli society and promote peaceful coexistence with Palestinians. Consider a recent book by Daniel Bar-Tal, Sinking Into the Honey Trap: The Case of the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict (Westphalia, 2023), which is a good example of highly critical scholarship in Israel. For years, Bar-Tal co-edited the Palestine-Israel Journal with Palestinian scholars, a unique example of a quarterly that brings together Israeli and Palestinian academics and writers. Last year, Bar-Tal visited the University of Warsaw, where I teach, and offered a highly critical insight into current Israeli politics and society.

Or consider the fact that Tel Aviv University is the only place in Israel where the Nakba, the ethnic cleansing that occurred during Israel’s war of independence when hundreds of thousands of Palestinians were forced to leave their homes, is commemorated annually. The commemoration is organized by leftist groups of Jewish and Arab students and supported by the Israeli Hadash party. Even this year, during the Gaza war, the university decided to support the commemoration, despite strong opposition from the Israeli right. “According to the law of the state of Israel, all citizens, Jews and Arabs, both left and right, have the right to demonstrate,” announced the authorities of Tel Aviv University.

Calls for boycotts of universities are already leading to the isolation of Israeli academic communities. Before a recent meeting of the International Society of Political Psychology, there was a protest on social media against the presentation of highly valuable research on Israeli and Palestinian public opinion regarding the war. The Israeli author of this research is a declared opponent of the government of Benjamin Netanyahu, and the research itself was conducted in a completely unbiased manner. However, despite the scientist’s not attending the conference, protesters still picketed outside the conference room.

Such forms of discrimination are becoming increasingly common — Israeli authors’ articles are rejected by journals for unclear reasons, and foreign reviewers refuse to evaluate Israeli research projects or academic papers. Sometimes entire universities, such as the University of Granada, in Spain, impose bans on inviting Israelis to academic conferences. Others, like the Free University of Brussels, forbid any cooperation with Israeli scientists — even within ongoing international research programs. This results in the widespread violation of the fundamental principles of the European Research Council, which is based on scientific excellence, regardless of gender, age, nationality, or the institution employing the scientist. Moreover, it is a violation of the principle of nondiscrimination and neutrality in the management of public funds by European universities.

The isolation of Israeli scientists is an attack on the most pro-peace community in that country, university and research-institute employees who are regularly seen at the massive demonstrations held in Tel Aviv against Netanyahu’s right-wing government. They are the ones demanding an end to the war. By weakening them, supporters of academic boycotts are effectively strengthening the Israeli right and pro-war hawks. It seems as if the goal is to leave only Yahya Sinwar and Itamar Ben Gvir on the battlefield. It should be clear that this is the worst scenario for both Palestinians and Jews.

At the end of the last academic year, a tent city was set up at my university, the University of Warsaw. The protesters demanded a boycott of Israeli universities. The rector met with them several times, offering various forms of support for Palestinians. Eventually, he decided to welcome Palestinian scholars as part of a special scholarship program — similar to what had been done earlier for Ukrainian researchers. Instead of attacking some scholars, he chose to support others. If the academic protest movement for Palestine was truly concerned with the fate of bombed universities in Gaza, it would have welcomed the rector’s actions. Instead, the attacks on the rector and the university intensified; his name was painted on walls, accompanied by vulgar comments.

In recent months, several German institutions have issued statements opposing the boycott movement. The Max Planck Society wrote: “In recent weeks, we have witnessed the termination of research collaborations, the exclusion of Israeli scientists from international conferences and awards, refusals to review grant applications of researchers working at Israeli institutions, and many more hostile acts against Israeli academia. We consider these actions discriminatory and counterproductive. In fact, they weaken the voice of reason in difficult times.” The German Rectors’ Conference wrote: “The gradual, often subtle exclusion of Israeli academics contradicts the basic principles of academic cooperation and academic freedom. We strongly advocate cooperation and the continuation of work with you and call on all academics in Germany to continue or even strengthen cooperation with Israel.” Unfortunately, I have not seen such statements in Poland or other countries. The recent statement from the AAUP will not help matters. Academic boycotts are increasingly treated as a legitimate expression of political views, regardless of the damage they cause — not only to academe but also to any peace efforts.

To anyone calling for an academic boycott today, I recommend a small perspective-taking experiment. Think for a moment about how the people you want to isolate feel — often increasingly alienated in their own country, suspected of supporting enemies, perceived by the majority as sentimental, detached progressives. They are already condemned to ostracism, sometimes forced to remain silent under threat of disciplinary penalties and trials. How will they feel when the world suddenly blames them for actions they themselves oppose?

Today, I often wonder what the editor of Psychology in Russia thought when she received my insulting response to her request for a review of an article. She must have felt doubly isolated — living in a country hostile to scientists, cut off from contact with the world, and probably embittered by a war allegedly waged in her name. My letter was just another sign that there is no future for people like her in the world of science. This is what academic boycotts lead to. Think before you join them.