In 1936, the University of Heidelberg, one of the most illustrious universities in Europe and perhaps the world, was celebrating its 550th anniversary. The occasion was to be commemorated with pageantry and academic gatherings. 

Jewish students had fared well in German universities in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Unlike Russia, the United States, and Canada, quotas on Jewish students were not much in evidence in Germany. Chaim Weizmann, Israel’s first president, studied there; Nehama and Yeshayahu Leibovitz earned their doctorates there. Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik received his doctorate in Berlin just six weeks before Hitler became chancellor. Judah Magnes, the American-born Reform rabbi who served as the first chancellor of the Hebrew University, held a doctorate from Heidelberg.

But by 1936, the Nazis had been in power for three years. Just three months into their rule, they had shown their contempt for learning by burning tens of thousands of books by Jews and other “undesirables.” Faculty members who were Jews or known leftists had been dismissed, and Jewish students, even those born in Germany, were no longer admitted. The number of women students was considerably reduced. In Heidelberg, the university rector, Wilhelm Groh, always came to campus in his SA uniform.

University education all over Germany had been radically altered and politicized. “Unreliable” professors had been replaced in many cases by men who were underqualified but ideologically acceptable to the ruling party. Non-academic activities, such as para-military training and lectures on Nazi ideology and the “science” of racism, as well as “voluntary” agricultural labour, were now compulsory university activities. Freedom of speech was no longer possible. 

Many invitees to the Heidelberg anniversary were wary of toasting any institution in Nazi Germany. As it turned out, the Heidelberg festivities included parades of faculty and students in their various Nazi uniforms. One of the main speakers was Dr. Josef Goebbels, the minister of propaganda.

Anticipating all this, most British universities boycotted the events in Heidelberg and forthrightly told their German colleagues why. By contrast, some of the most prestigious U.S. universities accepted the invitation – Yale, for example, and Harvard, where the student newspaper, The Crimson, lobbied for an official delegation. At Columbia, the student paper, The Spectator, with many Jews on staff, lobbied against any official participation, and there were violent protests in support of that position. Princeton was not invited, probably because it had given sanctuary to Albert Einstein.

Canadians were torn between the British and U.S. positions. At the University of Toronto, the president, Rev. H.J. Cody, was inclined to participate in the belief that a refusal because of the Nazis’ “oppression of minorities and their oppressive educational policy” would not be justified, that “Heidelberg’s great work in the past is [reason] enough to honour her.” In the end, however, he wrote to the Germans, that it “is not possible for this university to send a delegate.” 

Dalhousie’s president, Carleton Stanley, was more forthright. He “acknowledged the great and glorious history of Heidelberg,” and noted that in general, “Canadian universities are most desirous of promoting friendly relations with the academic life of other countries – relations in which the last war made so sad a break.” It is, however, “impossible for us to participate in any university celebrations in Germany under the present regime.” In other words, an academic boycott for political reasons.

McGill’s principal, Arthur Eustace Morgan, minced no words. He had forbidden student exchanges with Nazi Germany and refused to take part in German-sponsored events in Canada. Not only did he turn down the invitation to the festivities, he even refused to attend a conference scheduled in Heidelberg before the anniversary chaired by an old friend from Britain. “I regret,” he wrote to a friend and colleague, “that I feel unable to accept any invitation at the moment to attend a meeting to be held in a German university.”

Most CJN readers, I’m sure, would agree with that academic boycott. Academic boycotts are not “in principle” illegitimate, then. What needs to be discussed in the case of any boycott is the particular issue at hand. 

Michael Brown is professor emeritus and senior scholar of history, humanities and Hebrew at York University.