Why Academic Strikes Don't Work

This past year has seen an upheaval in academia, as many academics in North America and now the UK have taken to the streets to protest their precocity of their work conditions. The entire system of adjunct teaching, with university administrators dictating unfair work conditions to academics, is made possible by the glut in the supply of teachers, but goes against the supposed ethics of higher education.

The thing is, I am with them 100% in spirit. But sadly, I don't think protests alone will work for two main reasons.

The first reason is simple - adjuncts have no leverage. They need the job too much, both materially and spiritually, and have (so too many think) nowhere else to go.

Basically, whatever the transaction, you need leverage to negotiate a good deal, and ultimately, you need to be ready to walk away if the deal does not please you. Rich people have the freedom to do this, poor people don't. If you walk into a car dealership and say "I need this blue car, give me a good deal!" you have just sabotaged yourself.

In a similar fashion, striking academics say "I need this job, physically and mentally, so give me a better deal!" That isn't likely to happen with the neoliberal university system that now exists in the West and elsewhere.

This principle was made abundantly clear to me when I faced workplace bullying by a supervisor a few years back. I worked in a Language Centre at a small university at the time, and my new director singled me out for abuse, berating me for taking sick leave, hauling me into a 4 on 1 surprise attack meeting, and finally refusing to renew my contract. These were all abhorrent actions, and very contrary to the 'spirit' of a university, I thought, especially coming from a researcher who specialized in the pain of conflict.

But in terms of academic administration, these actions were entirely logical. In response, I went through official channels by reporting to the harassment officer. When that was stymied (why would they turn out one of their own who was just doing business?), I escalated by going to legal counsel, and threatening to communicate the details of the case to the media and the supervisor's research network. I knew the bridge was burnt,  and as I advised fellow sufferers of academic bullying (Bonnah 2017), I also understood that getting ready to walk away from the job is a precondition to getting a better deal.

Ultimately, the chance of unethical decisions coming to light got the administration's attention, and I was able to settle the affair in a way that allowed me to heal from the abuse, finish my PhD, and find a better position. It was still unfair and unjust, and sealed my decision to move away from teaching and into research.

In a similar fashion, if academics in precarious conditions want a better deal, in addition to protests, they need to threaten legal action, and raise the media profile of the university's 'wrongdoing', not just decry their unfair working conditions.

Another condition of academic work that complicates this situation is that, in all honesty, academics are generally unorganized and disloyal to one another. When I was abused, my coworkers told me bluntly it was my own affair, and they wanted nothing to do with my case, which they said I had brought on myself. I joined an academic union, but after 3 months of exorbitant fee paying with nothing to show for it, I quit my membership and got a free legal counselling session that lead me to getting out and finding better terms. I felt abysmally alone throughout the whole process, and am sure it would have driven some to despair and depression. Former coworkers later told me of their abuse after my departure and how they wish they had supported me more, but their actions make sense given their own precarious work conditions.

In April, I will be an associate professor, and will cross over to the other side of the line. As Jana (2018) notes, the higher you rise in academia, the more you have to lose, and thus the less you stand by your principles by throwing in with striking academics. Unlike my supervisor, who excused his abuse of me by saying he was just "a man of the organization," I am willing to walk away from the job if it asks me to compromise my ideals by abusing others. But I hope that striking academics in North America and the UK realize that they need to be able to get together or else get out if they hope to find a better life.


Sources

Jana, B. (2018). "Universities, neoliberalism, and the (I'm)possibility of critique."
https://janabacevic.net/2017/05/01/universities-neoliberalisation-and-the-impossibility-of-critique/?utm_content=buffer78ea3&utm_medium=social&utm_source=facebook.com&utm_campaign=buffer

Bonnah, T. (2017). "Fighting Power Harassment: Surviving and thriving against workplace bullying." Linked In article.
https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/fighting-power-harassment-surviving-thriving-against-workplace-ted/

Invisible Dress Codes

Please excuse the lateness of this post, but I am just recovered from a tsunami of work duties, PhD writing deadlines, and personal dramas.

Today, I’d like to sharpen my CDA skills on a simple question that I have been asked many times as an ESL instructor at a Japanese university:

“Are you going to teach class dressed like that?”

To the best I can recall, I have been asked this at least 3 to 4 times a semester for the past six years, thus between 18 to 24 times. Of these, only one incident came from a professor, the rest from fellow foreign ESL instructors. They have all happened in the morning when I arrive at work dressed in street clothes due to the sweaty, dirty nature of commuting in Japan, especially in summer. I keep clean, conservative teaching attire in my locker and change into it before starting classes.

After my objection to the question, most interlocutors defensively define the genre of their question as a ribbing joke, but their jab at humour is only pretense. The non-professor questioners have what could be described as ‘gleaming’ eyes, while the intonation is one of a markedly rising pitch. Both these body and vocal signs indicate that a certain pleasure is being taken merely from asking the question itself, not observing any reaction to a punchline indicative of humour, thus further defining it as a different genre. The one Japanese professor who asked this question lacked any of these signs, but was instead marked by a calm voice expressing concern and then relief upon the answer, and thus is excluded from further consideration.

The significant social fact is that all interluctors are of the same professional rank as myself – ESL instructor in Japan. This is a doubly precarious social identity, since ESL academics in Japan are rarely considered ‘real’ educators by academics in other fields, and also because many stay at the full or part time teaching level without ever completing a PhD. They thus have no hope of becoming a professor except in extreme circumstances of having inside help or moving to the countryside where rural institutions are more lax regarding credentials. Add to that recent changes in labour laws limiting instructors to 5 year contracts and reducing benefits and the desperation that births this sort of social jockeying becomes evident.

The main element of the utterance is the juxtaposition of‘the verb 'teach’ and the pronoun ‘that’. Teaching in Japan has the double cachet of respect traditionally afforded to the title of ‘sensei’, while MA-holding foreign university ESL teachers often consider themselves superior to the rank-and-file educators with bachelor degrees teaching in conversation schools across the country. Alternately, the use of the pronoun marks street dress as unmentionable, an alien ‘other’ unfit for the university environment. Ironically, there are non-accredited, 'scab' ESL teachers at my workplace who are forced to wear suits, in other words conform to a stricter dress code than the MA-holding contracted foreign teachers. This irony testifies to the greater social conformity exerted upon workers in relation to the precariousness of their position.

Coming from contracted, accredited foreign ESL faculty, the question itself is a form of self-policing, wherein university employees with little job security or authority attempt to exercise symbolic authority over a fellow by commenting on their violation of an implicit dress code. The fact that no code exists allows the presumption to occur, and also facilitates backpedalling when the interlocutor is confronted. As Bourdieu (1991) explains, this type of self-policing is common among the petit-Bourgeoisie attempting to accumulate social capital to make up for their lack of capital and thus power in other respects.

The fact that almost no professors ask the question implies that they are secure in their social capital and thus have no need for such strategies, although loyalty for the employer would explain the rare instance of questioning from a Japanese professor.

One can expect such strategies and gaming of social reality to increase as the precariousness of the ESL or ‘false’ academic increases in Japan along with worsening economic conditions and a rethinking of the necessity and even utility of English education here.

PS: I should note that since moving to a university with less standing, these questions have ceased, and I have even been suggested to dress more casually in accordance with other instructors.

Bourdieu, Pierre. (1991) Language & Symbolic Power. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.