Turcologist Herbert Wilhelm Duda, who may be in some sense partly to blame |
Dear reader! I recommend you read this astonishing story about more and slightly less imperfect academics first, and afterwards I’ll supply a list of the perpetrators. It is drawn from a book of memoirs, Nicholas Poppe’s Reminiscences, ed. by Henry G. Schwarz, Studies on East Asia series vol. 16, Center for East Asian Studies, Western Washington University (Bellingham 1983), pp. 230-231.
“In 1952 I received a letter from a young Austrian scholar, the Turcologist and Mongolist Udo Posch, who taught at the University of Graz. He asked me whether he could obtain a Fulbright Fellowship to work at the University of Washington. I talked this over with Professor Taylor, and arrangements were made for Posch’s coming. He arrived in the fall of 1953. From the very beginning he appeared a strange person. He often was, or pretended to be, ill and missed many classes. One could often see on the blackboard of his class the notice "No Turkish today." Finally this notice became permanent, and a note to the janitor was added which told him not to erase it.
“Posch was irascible and unfriendly to his students. His unpublished doctoral dissertation was on Tibetan verbal prefixes, and he often showed it to his students as if wanting to say that they would never be able to produce a scholarly work like this. Once a student who was not studying under him asked him for help in translating an obscure passage in a Tibetan text. Posch flew into a rage and declared that he did not know and did not want to know “all those monkey languages,” and ordered the student out of his office. The student went to the student lounge and while he was sadly reflecting on his clash with Posch, another student entered and asked what the matter was. He related his experience with Posch and his listener said that he was utterly puzzled because Posch had always boasted about his dissertation on Tibetan verbal prefixes. The two students then decided to solve this puzzle, and one day when they found Posch’s office open and empty, they took Posch’s dissertation which lay on his desk and microfilmed it. They then went to the university library and discovered in the catalog the title of a book on Tibetan verbal prefixes by von Koerber, published in Los Angeles in 1939. After obtaining a copy of that book, the students quickly discovered that Posch’s dissertation was a verbatim translation of that book. Armed with this evidence, they marched to Professor Taylor and showed it to him. Posch was immediately fired, Vienna University was notified, and it declared Posch’s doctoral degree null and void.
“When I asked Posch why he had done it, he answered that he had been Professor Duda’s doctoral candidate in Turkish but that he had a quarrel with him and changed over to become a graduate student of Professor Robert Bleichsteiner, the Tibetanist and Mongolist. Bleichsteiner allegedly suggested that he write his dissertation on Tibetan. I suspect that Bleichsteiner knew perfectly well that Posch’s dissertation was simply a translation of von Koerber’s book because Bleichsteiner was too good a scholar not to be acquainted with that book. Being a kind person, he obviously wanted to help Posch who was in a difficult position after his clash with Duda.
“Professor Taylor suggested to Posch that he get a valid doctoral degree, but Posch had become addicted to drugs in the meantime and died in the 1960s. Posch’s case was unique. I had never before encountered a plagiarist quite like him, and I was surprised to learn that a plagiarist could be as naive as to show his manuscript to everybody and to brag about it. At the very least, he should have destroyed the manuscript after having obtained his degree.”
Dramatis personae
I don’t know that plagiarism of complete dissertations has been all that common in any field of study. I have the feeling that nowadays it would be much more difficult to get away with as there are a number of easy-to-use digital methods for detection. But there is one case I know of. A well-known contemporary Indologist and Tibetologist teaching in the Netherlands woke up one day to find that his dissertation on Tibetan grammar had been plagiarized by an Indian “author.” But let our good friend, Leiden professor Peter Verhagen tell you about it himself, in this Oral History of Tibetan Studies interview.
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