The University of California at Berkeley was founded in 1868, and the flagship school in the UC system has long been revered as a bastion of public education and liberal thought. The school was the cradle of the Free Speech Movement.

Its sterling academic reputation encompasses everything from engineering to ethnic studies. The name “Berkeley,” denoting either the university or the East Bay city it calls home, is still enough to send reactionaries into paroxysms of rage. Surely, this is a place of enlightenment.

Not so fast, writes Tony Platt in his new book “The Scandal of Cal: Land Grabs, White Supremacy, and Miseducation at UC Berkeley.” As the inflammatory title suggests, Platt, who earned a doctorate from the university’s School of Criminology and returned as an assistant professor in 1968, makes the case that the school has often failed to live up to its ennobling hype, or at least neglected to recognize its sins. These include an archaeology program that recklessly dug up Native American graves and artifacts with little regard for ancestral ground and tradition; a slew of founding fathers who embraced white supremacy as a guiding principle; and a powerful militaristic streak that includes but is hardly limited to the seeds of the Manhattan Project, which produced the first atomic bomb.

This would be a good time for disclosure. I not only attended UC Berkeley (I received a bachelor’s degree in English in 1995) but grew up in the city’s flatlands, far from the ritzy homes that adorn the hills. I received an eclectic liberal arts education there, studying under the likes of Lawrence Levine, Barbara Christian and Stephen Greenblatt. I also became well acquainted with the holier-than-thou stance that pervaded both school and city. I can appreciate Platt’s argument that the university would do well to acknowledge some of the historical blood on its hands, although there’s a part of me that wonders what powerful institution founded in the 19th century doesn’t share in the complicity for the country’s ravages and land grabs. Platt’s larger point, and it’s a good one, is that Cal, as the university is colloquially known, largely chooses to ignore its significant blemishes (hence the “miseducation” in the book’s title).

The book is meticulously researched and footnoted; this is no irresponsible screed. If anything, “The Scandal of Cal” is a little too dry, its seriousness of purpose taking precedence over a more authorial voice or linear narrative. In theory, Platt’s book shares some qualities with “Palo Alto,” Malcolm Harris’ 720-page mammoth that I reviewed earlier this year and indulges in rhetorical, autobiographical and ideological flourishes in shaming a Bay Area city, school (Stanford University) and, often, an entire state.

“The Scandal of Cal” is a lot leaner and more focused, its anger slower to boil. Platt’s sympathies lie primarily with the Indigenous communities, particularly the Ohlone, uprooted and summarily erased by the university’s construction and expansion. Perhaps students from both schools can wield copies of these books at the next Big Game, provided Cal and Stanford both still have football programs in the topsy-turvy future of college sports (talk about greed).

So, no, “The Scandal of Cal” isn’t much fun. But it is important. It’s also complicated. The primary name Platt takes to task is Hearst, particularly patriarch George. Among other acts, as a state Assembly member he voted in the minority when the California Legislature approved the 13th Amendment to abolish slavery in 1865. (He became a U.S. senator in 1887.) The Hearst name remains plastered all over the Berkeley campus, its donations making possible facilities big and small. That name will also be on the paycheck this writer receives for writing this review for a Hearst publication. And so it goes.

Chris Vognar is a freelance writer.