My Yale Lawsuit: About Yale and Dershowitz

Yale May Claim ‘Victory’, but at What Price?

“Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth,” said Henry David Thoreau.  I may have lost the lawsuit, but I have truth.

No doubt, in practical terms, my legal endeavor was doomed from the beginning: I was audaciously confronting Yale, Alan Dershowitz, Jeffrey Lieberman, and the American Psychiatric Association, which had assiduously used their power and authority to set a false narrative about me from the start.  They would do anything than to allow me to proceed to discovery—for then the falsehoods they wove for the world would be revealed.  Yale’s conduct in the proceeding itself made its stance clear, as merely another institution looking after self-preservation—sharing no lofty ideals, no inspiration, no truth.

Indeed, Yale made a most astonishing admission in the courtroom exchange:

Judge: What I’m hearing you say is that [academic freedom] is an important concept, but [Yale’s] procedural protection does not include the freedom to speak out about controversial ideological matters.

Yale’s attorney: That’s correct.

This is the most disheartening part, not my loss—for what greater compromise can an academic institution make?  If the highest institutions for learning are not for academic freedom on controversial matters, then how can academic debates happen and academic knowledge advance, and what is a university’s raison d’être in the world?

Had it not made this extraordinary admission, the highly-contrived dismissal of my case in District Court risked being reversed, and I would then have the right to demand of the defendant, Yale, materials and evidence that would explain the prima facie irregular process it took to terminate me.  This would have included an answer to what and who is behind Alan Dershowitz, and how he plays such an outsized role in interfering with the careers of academics whose views are inconvenient to certain interests.

My illegitimate termination was bad enough, but Yale’s statement, through action, regarding its values is even worse.  And now that my lawsuit is over, I can speak the truth about Yale, and will.

I had been loyal to Yale precisely because of its principles.  Having started as a student in 1990, my history with the university spans thirty years.  After I finished training and was offered a prominent faculty position in the established Department of Social Medicine at Harvard Medical School, I made the radical decision to return to Yale, where there was no such position and no such department. This meant that I would have to establish these from scratch, which I eventually did when I took a major part in Yale’s Global Health Initiative to make its Program one of the foremost in the nation.  I also started co-teaching courses at Yale Law School, which I would do for my entire tenure there.

Harvard was mired in controversies at the time, with Larry Summers in charge and investments in Halliburton—which overtly profited from the Iraq War—coming to light.  Grateful alumni showered Yale with donations for its ethical holdout, making it the world’s largest university endowment—and I never regretted my choice, grateful simply to be a part of this spirit.  My frequent travels for global projects meant that I would be “voluntary” until a permanent position suitable to my interests was established; I never considered it a disadvantage—85 percent of medical faculty choose to be “voluntary” (and I was paid for the courses I taught)—until Yale used it against me in a derogatory way.

I watched Yale transform from within.  Yale Law School, once revered for its investment in Public Interest Law, succumbed to corporate pressures and descended into becoming a mere “law school to Supreme Court” pipeline.  Brilliant, service-oriented colleagues such as Stephen Wizner and Carroll Lucht gave way to mediocre faculty: one in particular milked her predecessors’ accomplishments to elevate herself and asserted “service” to cover for her inadequacies.  And when they retired and she could no longer exploit their labor to her credit, she retired, too—even though she is a generation younger!  Her brother, who became dean of Yale Law School, also abused more than contributed—and the same trend occurred across the board (resulting in embarrassing figures such as Amy Chua and her husband who, despite numerous sexual misconduct accusations, remain).

Many have referred to the film, “The Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” with regard to our country, especially in relation to the toxic transformation of politics.  This is how the “takeover” at Yale felt to me, as an insider over seventeen years.  Now, even education at the most elite universities does not guarantee that one will be competent—or even ethical—as we see with Brett Kavanaugh, Sam Alito, Clarence Thomas, Ted Cruz, and, yes, Alan Dershowitz.

In this “incompetent” world, truth no longer matters, and only “victory” is valued.  This is what I observed when Yale lied in order to terminate me, when over seventeen years my academic performance only advanced.  John Krystal’s disingenuous rationale, as stated in his letter, retroactively four months after my dismissal, was yet another disappointment.  His contention was that I broke “the Goldwater rule”—but why would this even matter to a university, which should be the source of knowledge a trade association applies, not the other way around? (the “rule” is not even universal, but a political compromise one guild decided to adopt).  It showed how far Yale had diverged from its motto, Lux et Veritas, or Light and Truth, to go along with the times.

When Yale chose a dishonest pretext to remove me, it was joining hands with Alan Dershowitz, Jeffrey Lieberman, and the American Psychiatric Association—all of which had compromised the nation for personal or institutional profit.  I initially filed the lawsuit so that Yale would not lose its way.  I had considered its principles to be identical to those of my grandfather—a renowned physician who sacrificed personal comfort and privilege for the good of his country, who remains my inspiration and role model.  I spoke up when I believed my country needed me; Yale had the opportunity to do so, but it chose mediocrity.  That, more than my lawsuit’s outcome, saddens me.