Academics err, but they should not retreat

I’ m coming late to the story of Andrew Potter’s piece in Maclean’s on social alienation in Quebec and of the reaction it provoked. But the fact that Potter got things wrong — or at best, made an uncharacteristically weak case for his point — has raised questions about the responsibilities that professors have when they participate in public debate. Some of the lessons that are being drawn are, well, unhelpful.

At l east, unhelpful if you believe that academics should be sticking their heads above the parapets of their ivory towers more often than they are now. (Obviously, I have a personal interest in this debate.)

The first thing to understand is that getting things wrong is not a scandal in academia. Or anywhere, really. If someone makes a mistake, the honourable thing to do is to publicly accept correction — as Potter did. Being forced to admit you made a mistake is itself the punishment for getting things wrong.

If you think that’s not enough, the fact that so few people are willing to publicly acknowledge an error — even in the face of overwhelming evidence — should give you some idea of just how painful the experience is. ( I, for one, would much rather not revisit my confident prediction that the fall in oil process would lead to stronger inflation in Canada.)

The murkiest part of the story is how Potter’s mistake somehow made his position as director of the McGill Institute for the Study of Canada untenable. This seems implausible: it’s hard to imagine anyone refusing to attend one of its conferences because its director wrote a dodgy blog post that was quickly retracted. As Felix Salmon once put it, “if you are never wrong, you are never interesting.” And Andrew Potter is one of the most interesting public intellectuals in Canada.

Perhaps the oddest lesson that people are drawing from the whole affair is that university professors have some special obligation to not make mistakes.

I’m not sure why this should be so, but it may simply be due to the fact that most people’s experiences with professors have been as a student. From a student’s point of view, professors have significant power, power that should not be abused.

This approach seems to inform much post- Potter commentary. Writing in the Globe and Mail, Université de Montréal professor Éric Montpetit tells professors to avoid “topics on which they have no expertise.” And in a blog post, the University of Ottawa’s Philippe Lagassé enjoins professors to only comment “on subjects that fall under your area of expertise.”

I don’t think this is useful advice, mainly because that’s not even how academics interact with each other. You don’t pass peer review by pretending that you’re writing ex cathedra, and it’s silly to try and pull rank in a seminar room filled with PhDs. Intellectuals don’t win debates by claiming deeper expertise, or by denying standing to their “non-expert” opponents. Arguments stand or fall on their own merit, not on the credentials of those advancing them.

This is particularly true of economics, which is at heart of so many public debates: should we expect economics professors to always get things right?

Not hardly. To be sure, there are many points where there is broad agreement, but the least convincing case for — to take an example at random — a carbon tax is to argue from authority. Happily, you don’t have to be a specialist in environmental economics — or to even have formal training in economics — to be able to understand the arguments for carbon taxes, or to explain them to others.

And on points where there is not broad agreement — that is, where the data are not ( yet) conclusive, and/ or where it’s not clear which theoretical framework is most relevant — then it’s even less helpful to insist that professors show their credentials before wading into public debate.

If professors feel obliged to stay away from discussions where things are not cut- and- dried — that is to say, where they might make a mistake — then debate will be dominated by people who have even less knowledge and/or who are more motivated by a political agenda than a desire to advance public understanding.

In Canada, the easiest route for professors who want to influence policy is still through direct contact with the government, away from public eye. Canada isn’t like U. S., with its tradition of openly partisan public intellectuals: Canadian academics identify more with the permanent “non- partisan” civil service, operating out of public view. This might lead to better policy, but public debate is poorer for it.

The last thing we should take away from Potter affair is that academics should be even more leery about participating in public debate. Yes, we’re bound to get things wrong from time to time: everyone does. That’s not failure, that’s life.

GETTING THINGS WRONG IS NOT A SCANDAL IN ACADEMIA.