James McKeen Cattell, Nicholas Murray Butler, and Academic ...

100 SOKAL
prominent banker, so that his social status rivaled Butler’s—he complained
privately to the university’s president about it. As he later reported, Butler then
agreed that “no Professor would again be summoned before the Trustees” without
other “representatives of the Faculty.” 134
Cattell, however, responded as usual to the incident. Without realizing that the
much of the trustees’ own rationale for their inquiry apparently rested on their
earlier responses to his own actions, he circulated a fly leaf at Columbia headed
“In Defense of Academic Freedom.” Among other things it claimed that “it is
better to say to hell with the flag than to take it thither” and he asked his colleagues
if “it would be in the interest of academic freedom” to publish the statement in
School and Society. 135 Of the 25 responses Cattell kept, only one—from philologist
E. H. Sturtivant—urged publication. All others—whether sent by Cattell’s
friends (including Dewey and Thorndike and Woodbridge and Woodworth) or
others—strongly advised against publication. Morgan, who had earlier rued
Cattell’s response to the Loeb affair, wrote simply, “It is not likely to do any good.
It is needlessly offensive. It will harm you if any body.” However, most others
expressed more concern about the statement’s possible negative impact on academic
freedom at Columbia. Even those (like Seligman) who feared the implications
of the trustees’ actions argued that “much harm might ensue” from
publication. Others wrote that Cattell’s note would “make a joke of the subject of
academic freedom” (from George P. Krapp) and would “set back the cause of
academic freedom about a generation” (from William A. Dunning). 136 Cattell took
his colleagues’ advice and did not publish the statement. Nevertheless, he again
did not seem to notice their larger concerns. In particular, they feared the
precedent that would follow if Cattell’s continued harassment led to his arbitrary
dismissal from the university, so they warned him explicitly of their worries.
However, he continued to ignore these warnings, and continued acting as he had
for years, and in the months that followed his relations with his Columbia
colleagues grew still worse.
The next incident that colored the trustees’ sense of Cattell was unrelated to
his antimilitarist views. In January 1917, when Butler announced plans to close
Columbia’s faculty club, Cattell attacked the president in a fly leaf “Confidential
Memorandum” that referred to him as “many talented and much climbing”—
views that many had shared privately—and jokingly urged the club to take over
Butler’s own house. 137 Little came of this remark until March, when several
newspapers published it, 138 and Seligman—who hoped to save academic freedom
at Columbia from Cattell—called some 20 of his colleagues into “hurried consultation.”
139 They all signed a statement explicitly disassociating themselves
from Cattell’s comment. However, they primarily sought to prevent the incident
from escalating further and from leading to any precedent (such as Cattell’s
arbitrary dismissal) that would further erode their academic freedom. Seligman
and two others met with Butler, specifically to prevent any “summary action”
against Cattell. Butler “intimated [to them] that he thought that Professor Cattell’s
usefulness to the University had come to an end.” However, he agreed to refer any
trustee response to the matter to a committee that included faculty members.
Two days later, the Columbia trustees seriously discussed resolutions that
Cattell be suspended, dismissed, or given a chance to resign, and called him to
appear before them. 140 Cattell then sought Dewey’s and Seligman’s advice and