Challenging the Neoliberal Climate in Academia From Mentoring Perspectives

Voice of Michelle as Associate Professor:

I graduated in 2009 with my PhD and felt fortunate to land my first tenure track, assistant professor position at a large public university in the Midwest. The year 2008 was a tough year to search for a job due to the Wall Street market crash. Like most public sectors, the reliance of higher education on Wall Street caused (and continues to cause) major budget cuts for universities. Because of this, many of the places where I applied discontinued their searches mid-year due to a lack of funding. I had been spending the last two years of my doctoral studies with a fellowship opportunity to work in New Orleans. While in New Orleans, my advisor and mentor who worked at one of the local universities gave me free reign to go out into communities so I could participate in grassroots activism. This freedom allowed me to be away from the confines of university life, a situation different from many of my classmates back at Arizona State who had teaching or research graduate assistantships with the university, or many of whom were working as practitioners in the field while perusing their doctoral degrees. This is an important circumstance to note as I felt very far away from the politics of the academy prior to beginning my first tenure-track position. Even though I am eternally thankful for the opportunity to be in New Orleans the last two years of my doctoral studies, I felt ill-prepared for what I would encounter as an assistant professor in academia (this is said with the acknowledgment that many junior faculty feel thwarted into unfamiliar territory after graduate school, often due to the undeniable oppressive environments of university cultures). I spent two years in my first tenure track job, two as an assistant professor at a large public institution in the south, and will begin this upcoming fall as an assistant professor at New Mexico State University. Still being untenured, what advice would the future associate professor Michelle give to my current, assistant professor self? I wonder, Penny, how you’ve come to seek the guidance of your future self?

Voice of Penny as Full Professor:

Thank you for sharing a part of your journey, Michelle. I always appreciate learning a little more about you each time we talk. I can definitely relate to what you’re saying about feeling ill-prepared. For me, as a first generation college student and second generation in the United States, Italian American, I always felt like my peers had information that I did not. It was like a vacuum or absence of knowledge; for how can we know what we do not know? What I did not know about college was quite substantial. For example, I had no idea that “room and board” meant “room and food” (this could possibly be due to the lack of 19th-century literature classes in my high school); I couldn’t understand where my friends had learned about the importance of standardized texts, how to apply to college, and what colleges to apply to; and I didn’t know what to bring on the first day I stepped foot on my college campus, which also happened to be the same day I moved into the residence halls. I was the one first-year student without a comforter on my bed—and could have used with a bit of comforting.

This lack of knowledge may have contributed to my decision to devote my life to working with college students, first in student and academic affairs positions, later in graduate assistantships on intergroup dialogue and access to college as a public good for all people in our communities, and now with my research and teaching on equity and social justice in higher education. While I have much more information than I did when I was seventeen, this feeling of not understanding all the “rules of the game” has continued. My personal or professional default is not that of competition and individualism, which seems to be one of the foundational principles of academic capitalism (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Again, I ask—how can I know what I do not know? How can I choose to operate within an academy that I do not necessarily understand and in the context of neoliberalism in higher education that perpetuates inequities across class, race, dis/ability, sexual orientation, and gender that I push against with my research agenda? I hope to begin to answer this question in dialogue with you and with our future selves.

Associate Professor, Tenured Michelle to Untenured, Assistant Professor Michelle:

Stepping into your first year on the track feels like a barrage of responsibilities compounded by a feeling like you don’t quite “fit in.” Especially as a young, Chicana woman/feminist, assumptions are made about who you are, where you came from, and what you are capable (or not capable) of doing (Delgado Bernal & Villalpando, 2002; Latina Feminist Group, 2001). This is further complicated by the need to survive in a neoliberal context within the academy and our larger society. If we think about the main facets of neoliberalism—competition, individualism, market-based interpretations of the world, and lack of recognition of identity politics (Duggan, 2003; Olssen, 1996; Olssen & Peters, 2005)—without a doubt, the ivory tower can be considered a neoliberal apparatus. We compete with each other for the dwindling number of tenure-track positions available (American Association of University Professors, 2009), opportunities to publish (or have the treat of “perishing”), are encouraged to publish as single authors, and seek grant money (often tied to profiteering agendas) to support our research and students. If this isn’t enough pressure, as critical scholars, we have fewer opportunities for jobs, publishing outlets, and funding support, and are often drawn to more collective forms of research/activism (Burciaga & Tavares, 2006; Collins, 2008; Cutri, Delgado Bernal, Powell, & Wiederman, 1998).

Michelle, I know in your last annual review you were encouraged to do more individual work and to abstain from publishing with community members or working with past and present mentors, colleagues, and even your students. “You need to create your own identity as a scholar,” the department chair and chair of the tenure and promotion committee urged, with a felt purpose not to help me navigate the neoliberal terrains of tenure but to truly discourage me from participating in collaborative research. Michelle, you keep doing what you know in your heart is right. Co-author your publications with community members who helped you write them; continue to collaborate with colleagues and mentors for whom you have found a sisterhood of shared purpose and activism; support the students you mentor (most often from marginalized positionalities) in learning about critical forms of research and publishing, and thus, how to survive/thrive in the academy.

Full Professor Penny to Associate Professor Penny:

Yes! Michelle, you mentioned being drawn to more collective forms of research/activism and I have found that tenure and promotion committees certainly do not favor collective forms of scholarship that often take a substantial amount of time as you work “with” a community rather than conducting research “on” a community. In fact, a member of my tenure and promotion committee when I was pretenure mentioned how it raises questions when you/we work collaboratively with a regular group of colleagues. Her/his concern was that each faculty in a group of four would write a manuscript independently yet put all four names on it—so each scholar would get to “count” four publications versus one as they went up for tenure and promotion. This concern is one that assumes independent rather than collaborative effort; quantity alone is valued for tenure and promotion; and it perpetuates a competition versus collaborative paradigm in research and academic writing. To be sure, my colleague is correct—while this doesn’t happen with me, this tactic does happen in some cases—but I would argue that even in these cases, it is a strategy devised by junior and senior scholars that originates from the importance of quantity of publications to obtain tenure or promotion, which is perpetuated in some, albeit not all, fields and disciplines; it’s a survival technique. Accountability through the quantity of publications serves as a false indicator of the value of faculty research and is indicative of the neoliberal climate.

Critical scholars, however, operate from different paradigms that often privilege collaboration and social change over quantity of publications, including foci on activism, and transformative and emancipatory approaches to research (Denzin & Lincoln, 2008; Sheilds, 2012). These disparities between the neoliberal climate and critical approaches to research call to mind a quote from Susan George (2004):

Can critical scholars survive? Progressive intellectuals rarely can—unless they are, like me, extraordinarily lucky (my late husband supported my initial efforts). The choice for most of them lies between taking a vow of poverty or academia. They will mostly teach and they will have a tough job. Whatever their field, academics are expected to transmit the received wisdom, are discouraged from crossing disciplinary boundaries, must frequently please their departments before pleasing themselves and for the increasingly large percentage without tenure, can’t take too many risks or they will never benefit from job security. The best argument for tenure is that it creates space for critical inquiry, which is also the principle reason to deny it. (p. 206)

I connect with Susan George’s comments on tenured faculty members; the space for critical inquiry has not necessarily opened up in the academy. The pressures to please colleagues conducting annual reviews post-tenure continue including the added burden to obtain grants to support graduate students, “significant” research contributions in “top tier” journals as defined by peers who do not necessarily see the academy from critical perspectives nor do many reviewers of the so-called top tier journals, and added (and important) responsibility of mentoring junior faculty and attempting to open up space for critical early career scholars in a way that I would have appreciated. All this and notions of “impostership” (Brookfield,1993; 2005) still arise for me. As a full professor, I encourage you—Penny—as an associate professor to abandon the worry about having to meet all the demands of a research institution and to focus on the scholarship, teaching, and mentoring that you feel will make an impact on society regarding access and equity to/within colleges and universities. To be sure, this work is collaborative and not done within the isolation within the academy; it means engaging in relationships across communities and the university. It means working to alter tenure and promotion processes for junior faculty in the face of neoliberal pressures. It means providing the support that you needed when you were a graduate student and helping to alleviate the worries of early career scholars (and yourself).

Associate Professor, Tenured Michelle to Untenured, Assistant Professor Michelle:

I like your advice, full professor Penny, to your current self. I think my future self would say something similar to me about abandoning the worries placed on critical scholars in the academy—that is if I can stomach to stay in the academy! In all honesty, depending on my mood, I’ll sometimes fantasize about what it might be like to be in another profession. What if I went back into the classroom to teach or became a lawyer who represents marginalized peoples or could work as legal aid for social justice movements? What if I was like my friend in New Orleans who left academia and has for over a decade read tarot cards in the evenings in the French Quarter so that he can spend his days working with grassroots activist organizations? During my day dreaming, my tenured self quickly reminds my untenured self about the far-reaching tentacles of neoliberalism, and how, no matter what profession or life circumstance I’d be in, I would be facing some of the same issues of isolation, disciplinary forms of power and oppression (Collins, 2008), racism, classism, sexism, ageism, heteronormativity, ableism, and the list goes on and on (hooks, 2000).

Tenured Michelle then urges the untenured me to consider—if you choose/are able to stay employed in the academy, how can you survive while at the same time attempt to change it? I would say to my current self: I want you to maintain your passion for social justice and equity—this is the very reason you decided to go to college to become a teacher and then go to graduate school to become a professor. I know it’s sometimes easy to be tempted by “the grass is always greener” mentality—but remember that when you were working with grassroots activist organizations in New Orleans, while advocating for important and necessary human rights, like so many movements historically, the collective efforts of the communities you worked with were still fraught with isms and power struggles occurring from within (Lorde, 1984; Morris, 2010; Roth, 2003).

Furthermore, social justice movements are relying more heavily on funding from foundations linked to corporate sponsors like Bill and Melinda Gates, Kellogg, etc. (INCITE! Women of Color Against Violence, 2007). Neoliberalism is pervasive—it’s everywhere and embedded within everything (Carr & Porfilio, 2010; Giroux, 2008; von Werlhof, 2011). I want you to be cognizant of this when you think about options for yourself outside the academy. And, if you ultimately stay employed in higher education, I want you to find ways to not only survive but to thrive from within, to support the exposure of critical thought and methodology to your students and colleagues, and to make change with the marginalized communities you hope to support.

Full Professor Penny to Associate Professor Penny:

I can definitely connect with your stomach’s challenges at staying in the academy, Michelle, as mine is rumbling at this very moment from being on the “other side” of the tenure and promotion table. I take seriously your comment about not simply surviving but thriving. It is such a challenge to have people’s careers and lives in your hands, including your/my own. I do not underestimate the unanticipated power that comes with associate and full professor positions—and the care with which I need to approach each situation. I realize that it may have been the seriousness with which I approach tenure and promotion (P&T) that has led to my being elected to the P&T committees for two departments on campus, simultaneously, and more opportunities to serve may be in my future. My advice to my younger self is that in every instance, continue to unpack the complexities of situations and strive to do a service to junior and senior faculty alike, even when colleagues have competing perspectives and interests. The tenant “do no harm” has value in a research context as well as a service context. Because you have decided to work from within the academy to make change, the P&T committee is one place where you may actually try to work and make change from feminist and critical perspectives. The importance of this role and other service roles cannot be underestimated.

To be sure, I see you struggling with the number of commitments you have and how you are not able to say “no” as often as needed, and this is based in your desire to make change from within the academy. As such, you do not have a balanced and healthy life. This has to stop. I understand that you “can” do it—that you can serve on P&T committees, chair dissertations, review articles for journals, mentor graduate students, start a new collaborative research project, and the list goes on (and this is similar to many of my colleagues in the field). Yes, you can do it and yes, each of these is important to push on the neoliberal academy from multiple points. However, you also need to take care of yourself to do your best work. You don’t have to do everything for everyone—nor can you.

Even though you know this problem I describe is commonly associated with gender inequities where women do a disproportionate amount of teaching and service while men do a disproportionate amount of research (Park, 1996; Tierney & Bensimon, 2000), you continue to perpetuate the issue and sacrifice well-being for yourself for the well-being of other individuals, institutions, and organizations. I encourage you to observe women who seem to be doing a better job at this than you. Dr. Patricia Gurin, the Arthur F. Thurnau Professor and Nancy Cantor, Distinguished University Professor and Professor Emerita of Psychology and Women’s Studies at the University of Michigan are strong examples. Her research was used, in part, as evidence for the defense in the Grutter v. Bollinger (2003) and Gratz v. Bollinger (2003) U.S. Supreme Court cases on affirmative action (also see Gurin, Dey, Hurtado, & Gurin, 2002) and she has changed the face of diversity and intergroup dialogue across issues of race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, class, and other important identities. She served on your dissertation committee and invited you to co-teach a course with her when you were a graduate student. Hers is a no-nonsense approach to dealing with complex conflict situations; she appears able to confront issues while not sacrificing her like-ability—which seems to remain important to you. Look to—and intentionally learn from—the women faculty in your life.

Associate Professor, Tenured Michelle to Untenured, Assistant Professor Michelle:

This advice is invaluable, Penny, I believe for all of us functioning within the academy. I look back on my time in graduate school and am still feeling the consequences of ignoring my health and well-being and the sacrifices I’ve made with family and close friends to be in academia. I wish I could have told myself when I was in graduate school that it was ok to sleep when I needed to, to take a break and regroup, to visit family or friends for important life events. My future self can see the continued toll higher education is having on my mind, body, and spirit (Saavedra & Nymark, 2008) and encourages me to take better care of myself. This means cutting back on service commitments.

For starters, Michelle, you can’t serve on every diversity committee or agree to hold diversity awareness workshops for your colleagues in your college and for student organizations across campus (Rockquemore & Laszloffy, 2008). If there were more critical scholars from marginalized positionalities at your university, this service could be better distributed and shared among colleagues. Instead, with so few of us, we are asked to do an unreasonable amount of service in this area. It’s ok to say no!

In addition, you cannot humanly serve on every PhD committee in your department for students who want to use qualitative methodologies in their dissertation. It’s not your fault that there are not enough professors engaging in qualitative research, especially those taking a critical perspective, in your college to adequately serve the students. This is just another way neoliberalism is embedded in higher education and impacts your everyday life and overall culture of the university. Critical forms of qualitative inquiry are not as valued in higher education as post positivist work (Denzin & Lincoln, 2005; Kincheloe, 2008; Lather, 2007). So, I encourage you to pick and choose what you can do and do it well—spreading yourself too thin doesn’t help anyone.

Full Professor Penny to Associate Professor Penny:

Yes, I hear what you’re saying about the body, mind, and spirit connections. Constantly staying vigilant and confronting hegemonic and capitalistic paradigms pervasive in the academy behind and in-front-of closed doors are important to change but often feel like a battle that takes a toll. This reminds me of William Smith, Walter Allan, and Lynette Danley’s (2007) research on racial battle fatigue as a

theoretical framework for examining social-psychological stress responses (e.g., frustration; anger; exhaustion; physical avoidance; psychological or emotional withdrawal; escapism; acceptance of racist attributions; resistance; verbally, nonverbally, or physically fighting back; and coping strategies) associated with being an African American male on historically White campuses. (p. 552)

Challenging the neoliberal climate in higher education does show up in ways similar to—but not necessarily the same as—racial battle fatigue. And, I assume that the ways it shows up for you are different as a Chicana woman/feminist than for me as a White woman/feminist and for both of us as we age. If we are committed to changing the academy from within from multiple and idiosyncratic pressure points, we have to recognize the ways in which this reflects our bodies, minds, and spirits.

In a theater class that I’m taking with Dr. Alissa Millar, assistant professor in the Drama Department at the University of Oklahoma and instructor at The Actor Factory(http://www.actorfactory.net/), she focuses on the body as instrument. Is the academy so different? After working with Dr. Millar, I think not; the body serves as an instrument for social justice and change with the academy and in collaborations with community partners. If we do not keep our bodies healthy and viable, then it impedes on our ability to do good work for social change.

To take this notion one step further, the recognition of the body is important, but then we need to move toward action and actually work toward keeping ourselves healthy (instead of just thinking about it). Interestingly enough, this is reminiscent of social justice models that we know so well and use in our theory and practice of social justice and emancipatory approaches to research. I’ll speak from my future self to my current self when I ask, why do you continually forget these social change models of taking theory to practice when it comes to yourself and your own health? You can think of it when it comes to research, community organizing, and administrative practices but not necessarily when it comes to yourself. For example, Bobbi Harro has described the Cycle of Socialization (2000b) and Cycle of Liberation (2000a), which are models used to interrogate issues of oppression and socialization as well as ways to break these cycles. Together with colleagues, I have described the model and its implications for reflection and agency in qualitative research for equity (Pasque, Carducci, Kuntz, & Gildersleeve, 2012). This model also has implications for self—including the academic body—as an agent of and for social change within the problematic context of the neoliberal academy. You/we need to use our bodies and minds as instruments to challenge and interrupt this cycle of oppression within the neoliberal climate of the academy.

Michelle to Penny:

Penny, I’ve really appreciated being able to have this space to talk about how our future selves might mentor our current selves. I know we wanted to say so much more, but we’ve run out of time! As agents of and for social change, to conclude, let’s share our performative dialogue from our presentation at the International Congress of Qualitative Inquiry (Pasque & Pérez, 2013), where we spoke about the possibilities for our current selves to each other.

Penny to Michelle:

I’m in.