Masud Chowdhury
BRAC University’s choice of Professor Adam Habib as the special speaker for its 17th convocation signals an institutional willingness to engage voices that are unapologetically bold. Habib, born in 1965 in apartheid-era South Africa, has spent his career operating at the fault lines of politics, race, and higher education. A political scientist who later helmed two major institutions—Wits University in Johannesburg and SOAS University of London—he has repeatedly found himself at the centre of debates that extend far beyond academia.
Habib’s professional trajectory is intertwined with questions about racial justice, global inequality, the ethics of student recruitment, and the political responsibilities of universities. Added to this mix is a long and dramatic confrontation with the United States government, which once branded him a security threat—an accusation unsupported by evidence and later formally rescinded.
The episode began in 2006, when Habib was detained during transit at New York’s JFK Airport. Without charges or an explanation grounded in facts, he was interrogated, deported, and declared inadmissible to the US on allegations of “terrorist activities.” The claim stunned academic circles: Habib was widely known as a scholar of democratisation and a critic of authoritarianism, not as someone involved in extremist networks. Even more extraordinary, the ban extended to his wife and young children, effectively shutting the family out of a country where he had once lived and studied.
This clash reflected the paranoia of the post-9/11 political climate. US counter-terrorism policy had adopted a sweeping posture, often conflating dissenting voices with potential threats. Habib’s outspoken critiques of American actions in Iraq and of its shrinking civil liberties made him a target of suspicion in an era when questioning US foreign policy was easily recast as hostility. After years of advocacy from scholars and rights groups, the Obama administration lifted the ban in 2010, quietly conceding that no evidence of wrongdoing existed. Habib has since used the experience to illustrate how democratic safeguards can erode when national security is invoked without accountability.
A second controversy emerged in 2021, just after he assumed leadership at SOAS. During an online meeting, Habib used the N-word while explaining why its use by staff was unacceptable. Though he used the term descriptively, a short video clip devoid of context spread quickly, sparking student protests and demands for his resignation. He stepped aside temporarily while an investigation took place.
The incident highlighted the cultural tensions embedded in global academia. Habib, shaped by South Africa’s brutally explicit history of racial oppression, misread the far stricter linguistic norms in the UK. An independent inquiry later cleared him of racist intent, acknowledging that the term was used analytically, not abusively. Still, the uproar exposed ongoing uncertainties about free expression, racial sensitivity, and institutional accountability. Habib later observed that identity politics in the UK was “more fractious” than he had anticipated—and argued that universities must be able to host difficult conversations without collapsing into moral panic.
Another consistent thread in Habib’s leadership is his critique of the global trade in international students. He has been unusually forthright in pointing out the ethical contradictions: universities in wealthy countries describe themselves as global actors while depending heavily on high fees from students in poorer nations. This dependency, he argues, entrenches a structural brain drain that weakens universities in Asia and Africa. Instead of celebrating the permanent migration of talent to the global North, Habib advocates for collaborative degrees, shared teaching arrangements, and partnerships designed to strengthen institutions in the global South.
Whether confronting US overreach, navigating racial politics in London, or challenging the economic logic behind international student recruitment, Habib has consistently resisted quiet, bureaucratic leadership. He remains forthright, sometimes combative, and unwavering in his belief that universities cannot pretend neutrality in an unequal global system. As he speaks in Dhaka, he carries not only decades of scholarship but a career defined by the conviction that academic institutions must face political realities directly rather than retreat from them.
The writer is a journalist and academic
