The inauguration of President Trump poses a challenge to liberals inside the US and beyond; a truth brought home only too vividly by the introduction of an executive order barring entry to all refugees and any citizens from a list of Muslim-majority countries. There are many ways that the academic community can resist – and is resisting – the illiberal, populist regime represented by Trump’s White House.

But for non-US academics who travel regularly to the US to participate in scholarly meetings, this latest measure presents a dilemma of a very particular kind: should we continue to participate in conferences held in the US which many of our colleagues, including British academics with dual citizenship, may be prevented from attending?

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This is not an abstract question. I am myself in the process of making a panel submission for a conference to be held in Denver in November. Others already have places confirmed and flights booked for major events taking place in the coming months. Should we change our plans in solidarity with our banned colleagues, or would doing so only isolate US-based scholars whose critical voices are needed now more than ever?

I started a Twitter thread inviting comment on this problem and a lively debate was soon underway. Divergent views were expressed and no consensus emerged, but the exercise helped to clarify some issues with which any politically-engaged scholar appalled by the direction of US policy under Trump must engage.

The crucial question to be answered is: what would such an action achieve? Trump, as several commenters on the thread pointed out, will lose little sleep over a group of liberal academics from Europe boycotting a roundtable on 19th-century literature or contemporary urban architecture. If US scholars find it harder to hold such meetings, or, as result, to sustain networks with overseas colleagues, the action might even be positively damaging. As one tweeter noted, our academic friends in the US “are also going to be at the sharp end of whatever’s coming”.

Others pointed out that academics from countries out of favour with recent administrations (such as Cuba) have frequently struggled to obtain visas, and in this respect, Trump’s new order might be regarded as a dramatic ratcheting up of a discriminatory regime already in place.

“We already exercise mobility in an elitist club,” as one Cambridge-based academic put it.

According to this perspective, the emphasis now, as before, should rest on facilitating the widest possible participation via video-conferencing technologies such as Skype. Others suggested two-site conferences, involving venues inside and outside the US, connected again by video links and live-streaming. Others encouraged all who can afford it to donate to the American Civil Liberties Union, currently leading the fight to challenge the executive order in the courts.



These are all forceful arguments and constructive suggestions. But for some commenters on the Twitter thread, boycotting US-hosted conferences would be an important act of solidarity, not empty symbolism. How can attendance at a meeting from which other scholars are excluded on the basis of an outrageously discriminatory immigration regime be justified?



As one tweeter put it: “Just imagine strolling past those denied entry just because I’m not a Muslim.”



In the words of another: “How can free and open academic enquiry take place when one section of humanity is barred from participation?”



A US-based academic endorsed the boycott option: “I’d miss your company sorely but I feel it would put pressure on universities to make their resistance more than a hashtag.”



Others advocated moving all meetings to other countries, although recognised this would penalise US scholars unable or unwilling to travel for fear that re-entry could be denied.



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For some, the decision touches on fundamental questions of personal safety.



“I have a US passport and I’m afraid to go,” tweeted one.



“I know I personally will not be going near the US while this is going on,” was the view of another.



All points of principle aside, this might well be the clinching factor for most of us. As a white, non-Muslim academic with no family links to any of the banned countries, there seems little reason why I should feel especially vulnerable inside Trump’s America. My anxieties certainly pale into insignificance when compared with those of friends and colleagues directly targeted by the executive order. On the other hand, I am a feminist liberal who has made disparaging remarks about the president on social media. Might I, in some Trumpian future, be judged a threat to the Constitution?



I don’t fear for my safety right now, but it seems important to recognise that the character of Trump’s presidency is still taking shape. A British-Syrian friend commented philosophically on the ban: “He had to do it because he told his voters that he would. It’s for 90 days but will probably then be dropped, especially when he realises how badly it’s backfired.”



She may well be right; I sincerely hope she is. But whatever action one decides is most likely to defend academic freedom in the US and beyond, constant vigilance will be a task for us all while Trump is in the White House.



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The author is writing in a personal capacity. Tweet her @HistorianHelen

