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Resilience or Fuck You Neoliberalism – a strike poem

I should do a squat every day
My yoga teacher tells me
While I am perched awkwardly on my mat
Breathing through the pain
I’m not supposed to be feeling
Every day just do a squat
And a plank
And a downward facing dog.
It’s just a little effort and you’ll feel so much better.

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Impostor Syndrome and the Paradox of Agency

Like many other young academics I remember feeling an acute sense of relief the first time I was told about impostor syndrome. Giving my underlying feelings of inadequacy a name and defining them as a syndrome made them manageable, made it slightly less likely that I was the only one who really didn’t know how to be a researcher.

If you put impostor syndrome into google you will find countless guides on how to overcome it. In the style of cognitive behavioural therapy we are encouraged to work on ourselves, in order to not let our erroneous beliefs limit us. I’m don’t necessarily disagree with this. impostor syndrome affects us individually and it therefore might be helpful for us to develop some strategies to deal with it on an individual level. But what troubles me about these approaches is that they tend to treat it as a matter of personal pathology and thereby individualising it. Impostor syndrome is something that is wrong about me.

Rather, we need to understand impostor syndrome as a form of social sufferingg, as a symptom, not of something wrong with us, but with the world we live and work in. In this short article I will explore impostor syndrome in terms of how it reflects on our sense of belonging and the conflicting values we are faced as academics and how it shows us the paradoxical nature of neoliberal agency.

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Sadness and Solidarity – The strike as utopia

The past three weeks have been amongst the most impressive of my life. The current University and College Union (UCU) strike about pensions is not the first political or social campaign I have been involved in, but it is certainly the biggest. Members of the University and College Union in 65 UK universities are striking for 14 days across 4 weeks, the longest strike action the British higher education system has ever seen.

What I was least prepared for before the strike was the intensity of emotion it would trigger in me. Throughout the last three weeks I have felt a range of expected and unexpected feelings and I would like to take the two most intense ones to reflect on the strike and what is to come after.

Sadness

In a rather ill-advised move Universities UK tweeted their support for #unimentalhealth day on 1. March. The tweet reads “We all have a part to play in creating a positive mental health community at university. Join the movement this #UniMentalHealthDay It did not go down well. While I had an extremely enjoyable time looking at the often scornful but hilarious response s to this tweet they belie a darker reality. There is a lot of talk about the “mental health epidemic “ in higher education, with significantly higher numbers of mental health disorders recorded amongst both academics and students.

Of course good mental health care provisions are important. When someone has reached a crisis point they need support in order to get back on their feet. Staff and student welfare resources need to be expanded and made accessible for anyone who needs them; they save lives. But there is also something terribly symbolic and cynical about this focus on mental health. What we are really talking about when we are talking about a mental health epidemic amongst academics is the fact that neoliberal universities  causes immense personal suffering to their staff and students.

The strike has enabled us to have some long overdue conversations on the nature of this suffering and the way it has affected us personally. Throughout an excellent Teach-Out on the topic  and so many different conversations I have had over the last three weeks, often with complete strangers, the intensity of suffering and injury caused through the way we work has become abundantly clear to me. Through the focus on mental health we often allow ourselves to think of this suffering as form of individual defect which needs treatment. But really, when we are talking about rising numbers of depression and anxiety in academics we are talking about people who feel so overwhelmed with their workloads they can no longer cope. We are talking about people dissolving into tears over their emails, about people not being able to get out of bed on their days off, people’s hearts racing in fear at the thought of another meeting, about people whose bodies finally give in, making them physically unable to keep going. Maybe the most heart-breaking part about of this is the intense guilt that many of us feel when we finally reach breaking point. We know that by not pulling our weight, it is our colleagues who will have to shoulder our bit of the work too.

The strike gives all of us an opportunity to really talk about how badly we have been hurt. Maybe the most moving moments for me were those in which people spoke about how the constant stress affected their capacity to feel compassion for others. One of the most painful realisations about the neoliberal university  is that it not only turns us into victims, it also turns us into perpetrators. Often we pass on the disrespect and pain we experience on to others, most unforgivably our students. We bitch about them, complain about their demanding attitudes and poor work ethic and their disinterestedness, while all the while we are contributing to a system which encourages exactly these attributes. I used to joke about marking exams, that with each copy of a particular exam I marked I cut off a bit of my soul. This may be a very dramatic way of putting it, but it is not an inaccurate one. Complicity in an unjust system damages us. The fact that each of these injuries we sustain is tiny in itself (we are, after all, still on average incredibly privileged compared to so many others) makes it hard to really admit the emotional toll it has on us. We feel we are dying a death by a thousand cuts. Continue reading

David Cameron and the politics of superfluousness

Last week, voters in the UK chose to re-elect the Conservatives to rule Britain another five years. Because of this decision tens of thousands of people will needlessly suffer. Some will die. It is really that simple. Britain’s current austerity politics have been linked to widespread social harm, and we have been promised that there will be much more austerity to come.
The Tories’ election manifesto includes the promise of more measures aimed at saving £12 billion in welfare. These 12 billion will come out of the money we have put aside to protect the weakest among us. Those least able to defend themselves are going to be hit hardest.

In the rhetoric of post crises politics, these cuts are necessary to lift Britain out of recession. They are a sacrifice we all must bring, because “In a world of fierce competitiveness – a world where no-one is owed a living – we need to have a welfare system that the country can properly afford.” The idea that welfare cuts and austerity are suitable measures to strengthen an economy is on shaky empirical grounds, to say the least. The idea that austerity is the only way to save money is nonsense. The 12 billion in saving are offset by tax cuts to the wealthy. In this election the Conservatives have promised to put the threshold at which tax payers would have to pay the top tax rate up to £50.000 a year. Voters last week decided that it is more important for people who are reasonably wealthy to be a little more wealthy than that the needs of those who have very little are met. In short, the British electorate have decided they want to be ruled by party whose actions are fundamentally and obviously immoral. How did that happen? Continue reading