It wasn’t my extensive research on height and income that caused the backlash, though it did raise some eyebrows. The real blow came when I published papers examining Jewish influence in academia, media, and banking.

I approached it like any other research question. Are there certain demographic groups that hold disproportionate power in key institutions? What are the historical and cultural reasons for this? These are legitimate inquiries for a social scientist, or so I thought. But it turns out that even asking these questions is tantamount to academic suicide. It didn’t matter that I was meticulous with my data, that I used the same econometric techniques we apply to every other study. I had crossed a line that the liberal gatekeepers of the discipline deemed uncrossable.

The response was immediate and brutal. I became persona non grata almost overnight. Paper rejections came with unusually harsh feedback. Conference invitations were rescinded. Colleagues who once spoke to me cordially now avoided eye contact in the halls. In private, a few whispered that I’d gone too far, while publicly they condemned me as if I’d committed some moral transgression. I was smeared as an anti-Semite and a peddler of dangerous ideas.

Of course, they didn’t come after me openly on ideological grounds. That would reveal too much. Instead, they used the language of academia: “methodologically flawed,” “unsupported conclusions,” “a lack of academic rigor.” But I knew the game. This was about enforcing a taboo, not scientific standards. I wasn’t being judged on the quality of my work; I was being punished for breaking an unwritten rule.

Eventually, the rejections and ostracism reached a point where staying in the field was impossible. I could have rebranded myself, stuck to safer topics, maybe even made a quiet apology and renounced my research. But that’s not who I am. I wasn’t going to let them dictate what topics are “acceptable” for inquiry. So, I left—or rather, I was forced out—and now I’m just another Substack blogger with a small but loyal audience.

I’m not here because I wanted to be. I’m here because academia only pretends to be open and tolerant. The truth is, they reward conformity and vilify anyone who steps out of line. It’s no wonder my critics are desperate to paint me as a failed economist. To them, my story is a cautionary tale: defy the orthodoxy, and you’ll end up like him—exiled, disgraced, and forced to peddle his ideas on the fringes of the internet.

But what they don’t realize is that I’m not the one who failed. I simply refused to censor myself, to bend my research to fit into their ideological straitjacket. I wasn’t driven out for being a bad economist. I was driven out for being an honest one.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5604235&forum_id=2...id#48148993)