If that is the case, no doubt my noble friend the Minister will make that clear.
The greater point is that universities are not places of surveillance in the sense intended in this Bill, and they cannot become so without fracturing what is best about them. As far as I can tell, no concern at all appears to be expressed in the legislation or in the guidance that what is being proposed is a form of institutionalised censorship with academics at its heart.
If the guidance means what it says, and we must assume that it does, it calls into question a situation in which people in British universities would not be allowed to argue, with Plato perhaps, that democracy is flawed. It is not a crime to argue that democracy is flawed. No one in a British university could deliver a lecture that evinced a lack of respect for someone else’s religion. It is not, thank goodness, a crime in this country to demonstrate a lack of respect for someone else’s religion. Perhaps no one in a British university would be allowed to decry individual liberty in favour of, say, collective empowerment—a notion with a long intellectual pedigree. Again, it is not a crime to express that view in the United Kingdom. Obviously, the point is not whether noble Lords agree or disagree with any of these propositions, or whether any noble Lord would wish to advance any of them—for my part, I would not particularly. The question is rather whether we have really reached a state of affairs in this country in which it is now necessary for a senior politician, even a politician as senior as the Home Secretary, to be granted the power to influence, by power of direction if necessary, what can and what cannot be said in a university in the absence of any crime being committed. That is the point. This legislation seeks to control not only violent extremism but also speech in universities even where that speech is not otherwise a crime. This is its central failing and it is the reason I have put my name to the amendments tabled by the noble Lord, Lord Pannick.
The role of surveillance and control is one that is entirely inimical to the purpose of a university as we have understood it, which is to analyse, to explain and to discover. In that sense, open debate is the lifeblood of an institution of higher learning. Of course, as noble Lords have recognised, universities do not have immunity in the face of the criminal law—and they should not be immune to it. Indeed, like everyone else and every other body, they have existing obligations under anti-terrorism legislation, including the obligation
to disclose to the authorities information they have about terrorism activities. But no one is suggesting that they are failing to discharge those obligations, and this Bill neither defines nor seeks to address any such failing. That is because there is none.
Let me conclude by pointing out one striking omission from the proposed guidance that is to accompany the Bill. Nowhere within it is there any attempt to explain how its terms are consistent with the entirely appropriate and laudable legal obligation placed upon universities to secure freedom of speech. There is no attempt to square that circle. This may be because no one in the Home Office considered the Education Act properly before deciding to legislate for our universities in this way, or it may be because it is simply obvious that the freedom of speech duty mandated in the Education Act is in conflict with the Bill, so any attempt to argue that they can coexist is doomed to failure.
These proposals may spring from the best of intentions. They doubtless spring from a desire to do something, perhaps anything, about the real problems we face around radicalisation. However, in practice they will inevitably undermine the place of freedom of speech in our universities. They are wrong in principle and they are unworkable in practice.