Since I am addressing you for the first time as your Vice-Chancellor, I think it would not be appropriate for me on this occasion to limit my remarks to a progress report or to routine notifications.
I shall try, therefore, to speak to you of some of the more basic questions which affect our University life, and our own lives within the University.
I am not speaking about these things in order to try to impose some doctrine on you, or to instruct you in any way. All of you have much more experience in the world of education than I have; almost all of you have much more experience of academic life in Ghana, and of Ghana itself. If I talk to you now about certain important questions, within the area of your concern and experience, it is not because I can claim to offer any ideas which will, in themselves, be new to you. It is because I believe you have a right to know what are the ideas—whether you judge them to be good or bad—of your new Vice-Chancellor on two questions which are vital to you. In general terms, these questions concern the role of the university in a newly independent country, and the nature and conditions of academic freedom. In specific terms they concern the role of this university in this independent country, and the nature and conditions of our academic freedom, here and now. These questions are, of course, closely linked.
The role of the university in a newly independent country … There is a thesis, which has powerful and respectable defenders, that the role of a university is everywhere and always exactly the same, and that whether that role is exercised in a newly independent country, or in a rich and advanced one, makes absolutely no difference. Philosophically, if one of you should come to uphold that thesis, I am sure I should find it hard to refute. Historically, however, I believe the evidence is against the theory. Universities have adapted themselves differently, throughout the world, to changing historical circumstances. The change from the status of a colony to that of an independent country is a very great change, even a revolutionary one. All historical precedent suggests that an institution like a university must adapt itself, in a number of important ways, to vital changes in its environment. The coming of independence to this country constituted such a vital change. I think you will agree with me that the University College of Ghana—great as had been its services to the country—was rather slow to adapt itself to that change in its environment. That slowness gave rise, as the years passed, to frictions and mutual distrust. Finally it produced the form of the transition, as brusque as it had been long delayed, from University College to University. The circumstances of the transition were such that it constituted, I believe, something of a traumatic experience for the academic body. There is little point in entering into the details of those events. Our common interest now is that the University, without either brusque transitions or a stubborn rejection of change, should develop a relationship with its environment—that is, with independent Ghana—which will favour a steady, healthy and undisturbed expansion of the University’s work: an expansion in which the University itself will be setting the pace.
We cannot here avoid the question of our attitudes to independent Ghana and what it represents. The words “what it represents” are important, for Ghana is not just a country which is content with the name of independence or with the passive enjoyment of its own independence. It is recognized throughout the world, by enemies and friends alike, as the symbol of a certain concept of African independence: a concept which challenges all aspects of external dominance on the African continent. I shall not, myself, affect on this matter an aloofness or a detachment which I do not feel. I support this concept of independence, believing it to be a part of the movement of the idea of freedom in the world. I believe in independent Ghana, and in the Ghanaian idea of independence, and if I did not believe in them I should not be here.
I am not, however, pressing these views on you or asking you to share them. Many, perhaps most, of you will feel that political affairs are quite peripheral to your concerns; some will be sceptical about politics in general; many will feel that the important thing for University people is to get on with their own teaching and their own research, leaving political affairs to sort themselves out as best they can.
I have no quarrel with any of these attitudes, and no wish to politicize the University: on the contrary indeed. The only attitude which I think should not have a place here is that of radical rejection of our environment—the spirit which detests, not perhaps the abstract idea of independence, but the actual exercise of that independence by a former colony, now a sovereign state; the concept that the only legitimate liberty of an ex-colony is the liberty to imitate the institutions of its former rulers.
Such attitudes, and the resentments which they inevitably evoked, have done some harm here at Legon in the past. I believe there is little danger of their doing so in future, because hardly anyone—I hope, indeed, no one—can now conceive of the University as an enclave of the old order, with a duty to hold out against the new. On the contrary, all the discussions I have so far had with you lead me to believe that there is, in this University, among Ghanaians and expatriates alike, a great determination to serve Ghana—and through Ghana, Africa—in all the many ways in which a university can contribute to developing countries.
The second question on which I think it is right to state my views is that of the nature and conditions of academic freedom, in our context here and now. This is obviously something of great practical importance to us all. A lecturer cannot get on with teaching his subject, a scholar cannot get on with his research, if he feels that in these activities he is subject to some kind of extra-academic surveillance and interference. Speaking purely pragmatically, a university, in any large sense of the word, could not flourish in those conditions and the defence of academic freedom in that sense is a necessity of university life. If academic freedom in that sense were ever to be assailed here, it should be my duty as Vice-Chancellor to defend it by all means in my power, and I should do so. But I have no reason whatever to believe that this basic freedom is under attack or likely to become so.
There are, however, some extensions of the theory of academic freedom which I should not consider it my duty to defend. There is for example the view that a university, even if financially dependent on the state—as this University is—has the right, or even the duty, to ignore the views of the state as regards, for example, the number of students which should be accepted for higher education, or the categories of graduates which the country most needs. I must make it clear, in this complex, important and delicate set of questions, that I do not assert that the University should have no will of its own and should merely acquiesce passively in external decisions. On the contrary, the University must argue and defend its own viewpoint; I believe that it will find a hearing and that it is quite possible to produce a harmony between the needs of the country and the character of the University. My contention is, however, that the best method of achieving this end, in this field, is not by brandishing the flag of academic freedom on little or no pretext. Academic freedom, in the central pragmatic sense, is a flag well worth fighting for; that is all the more reason for not unfurling it without good and sufficient cause.
Another concept of academic freedom which seems to me unacceptable is that which was known in mediaeval times as benefit of clergy; the concept that academic people, we as clerks, enjoy, or should enjoy, a privileged position in relation to the general laws of the land in which we live. The assertion or even the implicit maintenance of such a claim, far from favouring real academic freedom, seems to be calculated to jeopardize the core of such freedom, which concerns the University as a centre of teaching and learning.
I hope you will forgive me both for having spoken at some length—and yet too briefly in relation to such large themes—and also for having asserted, rather than established, views on some highly controversial matters. I have done so, not in order necessarily to convince you of the merits of these views in themselves, but so that you may not feel in the dark as to what my ideas are on these
matters.
Since these remarks have been about, essentially, academic borderlines and sensitive areas, they may have sounded to some of you unduly negative. So indeed in some ways they are. These doubtful regions of academic and national interest are not at all likely to become centres of active controversy, provided the University is living on terms of reasonable discussion, based on an acknowledged harmony of interest, with the authorities of the nation of which the University is a living organ. Far from being unattainable, such terms are within easy reach. This country, according to UNESCO figures, spends a larger proportion of its national income on higher education than does any other country for which statistics are available. That figure is a certain index of the state’s sincerity in this question: it also expresses expectations—expectations which for us in the University should be not an intrusive irritant, but a most welcome challenge, and an opportunity of fruitful activity for all of us in our different domains.
I am quite certain that, whatever range of social and political opinions there may be in this room, there is a consensus of opinion here in favour of accepting that challenge and seizing that opportunity. It is in that spirit that I look forward to working with you all. I am sure that I may count on your co-operation, as you may count on mine.
I thank you for hearing me out so patiently.
In retrospect this statement seems a rather sanguine one, but for the first year the hopes expressed seemed to be fulfilled. Tensions began in my second year and, at the beginning of 1964, mainly because of grave events outside the University, the University had to go through a phase of acute difficulty.
*
The Address to the Congregation of the University of Ghana, which follows, is hardly fully intelligible without some information on the exceptional circumstances of its delivery. The background was as follows:
On January 2, 1964, a policeman had made an attempt on the life of the President of Ghana, Dr. Nkrumah, and killed one of his security officers. Following this, a state of emergency was declared. The state of emergency coincided with preparations for a referendum making certain controversial changes in the constitution of Ghana. This state of emergency, combined with the mobilization of opinion required for the referendum, led to considerable excitement in the country and to the adoption in the press of increasingly militant and, at times, vituperative language. The press attacked various persons and institutions whom it suspected of disloyalty, and the latter category unfortunately and wrongly included the University of Ghana, of which I had been Vice-Chancellor since September 1962, and which during my first year of tenure had enjoyed a relatively untroubled existence and harmonious relations with the state and press.
On January 17 the Government ordered a seventeen-day recess for all the university institutions of Ghana. On the same day a sizeable contingent of police came to the University and searched the apartments of two University teachers, Dr. de Graft Johnson, Director of the Institute of Public Education, and Dr. D. G. Osborne, a senior lecturer in physics. Then they took these two gentlemen into custody. A crowd of some hundred students then began to demonstrate against the recess and the arrests, but dispersed on my requesting them to do so. I was informed that a number of students intended to remain in their halls and refuse to disperse for the recess unless expelled by force. I warned student leaders that, if they took this course at such an excited time, there was a serious danger that force would be used and that the repercussions of this would result in irreparable damage to the University. I addressed the entire student body on the following day, urging them to disperse forthwith for the recess without manifestation of any kind. They took this advice and dispersed quietly. At the same time I made representations to the President for the release of the two members of the University who had been taken into custody. One of these, Mr. Osborne, was a British subject, and the Acting High Commissioner had been refused access to him.
Immediately after an interview I had with the President on January 24, I was notified that Dr. Osborne would be conditionally released provided I would give certain undertakings on his behalf—undertakings that he would not leave the country without the consent of the security authorities, that he would avoid all contact with Ghanaians, and that I would produce him on the request of the security force. I said that I was prepared to give such undertakings if Dr. Osborne wished me to do so. I was then allowed to see Dr. Osborne, obtained his agreement to my making the undertakings, wrote and signed the undertakings at police headquarters, and took Dr. Osborne out of the police station in which he had been confined since June 17. The police officers on duty at the station, who had obviously conceived affection and respect for Dr. Osborne, carried his bags to his car and stood on the verandah waving him goodbye. Dr. Osborne was subsequently permitted to return to the United Kingdom. Dr. de Graft Johnson, who had been politically active for many years, formerly in the opposition United party and latterly in Dr. Nkrumah’s ruling Convention People’s party, is still in detention at the time of writing. Two students who were arrested a little later (in early February) remained in detention until the following August, when they were released on the order of the President.
During the recess, the press campaign continued to increase in violence. On January 30 I received a visit from two high-ranking members of the security forces. They informed me that they had reliable evidence that four senior members of the University, whom they named, were engaged in subversive activities prejudicial to the security of the state. The persons named included the Professor of Law, Professor W. B. Harvey; the Senior Lecturer in Law, Mr. R. B. Seidman (both American citizens); and a person referred to as “Mr. Chester” (who later turned out to be Professor L. H. Schuster, a newly appointed member of the School of Administration). The fourth name, which I shall not record here, was that of a person of French nationality. I informed the security officers that I could appreciate the fact that people employed by the University did not thereby enjoy any licence to engage in treasonable activities, and if reliable and adequate evidence was forthcoming that any of them had been engaged in such activities, then I would agree that the people concerned must face the consequences of their acts. The security officers stated that they had such evidence but that they could not reveal it to me. I said that I could take no action on the basis of evidence which I was told was available to others but which was not made available to me. I could therefore take no steps for the dismissal of the persons concerned or for any other sanction against them.
I also urged that no action should be taken by the security forces until I had had an opportunity of seeing the President about the matter, as I believed there was grave danger of a miscarriage of justice. I suspected that at least two of those affected, Professor Harvey and Mr. Seidman, might be the objects of malicious denunciation; at this point one of the security officers made a gesture which I interpreted as meaning I was on the right track. I said I knew that neither of them could conceivably have been engaged in treasonable activities, as they were wholly dedicated to their profession of teaching law. “Mr. Chester” I could not identify at this stage, though later, when it became clear to me who was intended, I made similar representations on behalf of Professor Schuster. I could not vouch for the fourth person, not named here, as his Head of Department had recently reported to me that he was not attending to his University duties and had received an official warning that disciplinary action would be taken against him if this state of affairs continued. In the light of this I did not feel warranted in including him in the representations which I made on behalf of members of the University in good standing.
I then made an urgent request to see the President about this matter. I had not yet received any reply to this request when on the following day (January 31), while walking across the campus, I was stopped by a security officer who wished to serve on me a deportation order in the name of “Professor Chester.” As Professor Schuster is an American Negro, it became clear that both his physical appearance and his correct name were unkn
own to those who were seeking him. Deportation orders expiring within twenty-four hours were served on that day on Professor Harvey, Mr. Seidman and the French national referred to above. Similar orders were served on the following day on Professor Schuster, on the Reverend Mr. Stewart, a British subject, Chaplain of Legon Hall, and on an American lecturer in African studies, Mr. Jean-Pierre, who were included in our subsequent representations. The Academic Board of the University carried on February 3 a resolution supporting nem. con. the representations which I was making on behalf of members affected by deportation orders or in detention.
Still unable to see the President, I succeeded in seeing the Minister of the Interior, who granted a stay of execution up to February 8 (with a further extension in the case of Professor Harvey, who was at this time seriously ill). It was not until February 7 that with Mr. (later Sir) John Fulton, Vice-Chancellor of the University of Sussex and a member of our University Council, I succeeded in seeing the President, who heard my representations but told me that the Government decisions on deportations were final.
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