I beg to move,

That this House
has considered UK support for at-risk academics.

Yesterday evening, I was privileged to attend a remarkable 90th anniversary event hosted by the Royal Society and the British Academy. In 1933, the skies over Europe were darkening. The Nazis had come to power in Germany and were already making racial discrimination against non-Aryans, principally Jews, part of their state policy—the early steps on the road to the holocaust. One of the first such steps came on 7 April that year, with the passing of the so-called “law for the restoration of the professional civil service”. An innocuous title covered a grim reality. The law forced out of their posts civil servants of non-Aryan origin, primarily those of Jewish descent, together with members of political organisations that were deemed to be hostile. Jews, other non-Aryans and political opponents were also barred from holding positions as teachers, professors or judges.

Up until then, the German educational system, and especially its universities, had been among the best in the world. Leading German academics were outstanding in their fields and had many contacts and connections with their counterparts in the UK, yet the new law meant that many faced immediate dismissal with no prospect of further work in Germany. Happily, the reaction of their colleagues here in the UK was immediate and decisive. The prime mover was Sir William Beveridge, then the director of the London School of Economics, who happened to be in Vienna that April and was horrified to hear about the purge. Returning home, he immediately began to create an organisation to raise funds to help its victims.

The result, on 22 May 1933, from the rooms of the Royal Society at Burlington House the founding statement was launched of what was initially called the Academic Assistance Council, or AAC—a major initiative of which the UK can rightly be proud. In just a few weeks, 41 university chancellors and vice-chancellors, distinguished professors and other public figures had come together to pledge support for the planned rescue of their colleagues and counterparts in Germany. They included no fewer than nine members of the Order of Merit and, I am pleased to say, a serving Member of this House, the then Conservative MP for Hastings, Eustace Percy. They defined their mission as

“the relief of suffering and the defence of learning and science”.

It was a mission to save not just the individuals and their families, but also the hard-won knowledge and skills held within their heads.

The founders’ appeal for funds immediately bore fruit. Between May and August 1933, the AAC raised nearly £10,000 to get its work off the ground—about £900,000 in today’s values—and much of that came from UK academics. In the following six years until the outbreak of war, the AAC—later called the Society for the Protection of Science and Learning or SPSL—and its individual council members helped between 1,500 and 2,000 academics to escape from Germany and other countries under fascist influence or control. Their contribution to the arts and sciences here in the UK and elsewhere proved to be immense: 16 of those helped by the AAC/SPSL later won Nobel prizes, 18 were knighted and over 100 became fellows of the Royal Society or the British Academy.

Ninety years on, sadly, many academics around the world are again at risk. Some are caught up in conflict. Their universities may have been destroyed or left without power or water, making productive work impossible. Just getting to and from work may now mean running a gauntlet of rival militia gangs. Others face violence or persecution at the hands of repressive regimes or extremist groups, which see a free-thinking and free-speaking academic as an intolerable challenge to their authority.

As we know, women in Afghanistan can no longer go to university at all. In certain countries, academics are in serious danger because of their sexual orientation. Elsewhere, those who defend democracy and denounce state corruption are subjected to arbitrary arrest and physical violence, as happened as recently as July to Dr Gubad Ibadoghlu, a renowned senior visiting fellow at the London School of Economics, who was seized in Azerbaijan while visiting his mother and, disgracefully, is still incarcerated. It is therefore just as well that the organisation originally founded to rescue academics from the Nazis is still at work today. Now known as the Council for At-Risk Academics, or Cara, it is busier now than at any time since the 1930s, fielding hundreds of applications for support, especially from Afghanistan, Ukraine and the middle east, but also from many other countries around the world.