Between December 2016 and December 2019, I was a post-doctoral fellow at a university that shall not be named. I was recruited to work on a project investigating the “institutional culture” of the university itself, commissioned by the vice chancellor: academic (DVC).
I was placed in the research unit of a university institution. I understand that the project will be concerned with the transformation of the university. Because I have completed a PhD in social psychology, addressing xenophobia and racism, I thought this project would go up my path.
I have an intermediate boss – let’s call him Pierre. He is the deputy director of the research unit and takes the main responsibility for implementing the project according to the brief of the DVC.
As the project progressed, however, I became uncomfortable with the ethics of what was being done. DVC proposes to research the opinions of university employees over whom they have direct managerial power. Isn’t this a conflict of interest? When I suggested this, he insisted there was no conflict of interest.
I also advised them not to have access to the interview tapes or transcripts until further notice. His answer was: “You can do it, but I will find out who he is.”
Some colleagues, who have been at the university longer, think the project is just a cover for the DVC’s efforts to identify academics whose politics they don’t like.
Then suddenly, three months in, Pierre resigned. The post is not filled; instead, DVC tried to palm off the responsibility for the project’s “key deliverables” on me. I floundered; I came out of the deep and my heart was not there. Also, DVC can’t explain exactly what they want. I would come out of meetings with him more, rather than less, confused.
After several weeks of stalemate, DVC came up with the idea of finding a replacement boss for me. He asked another professor of higher education studies at the university if he would be interested in joining the project. This professor initially expressed interest but then threw me a curve ball and offered me a postdoctoral fellowship at his own center.
I am relieved to be “poached” because my relationship with DVC has reached a dead end. Then a new professor suggested that we could also take the project of institutional culture to its center.
I told him I was interested in his offer but made sure to explain the situation. He assured me that even if we couldn’t continue the project, I could still go to his center and work on new research.
However, instead of discussing this transition with DVC himself, the professor left me to do it alone. So, I met with the DVC and told them that I had been offered a new fellowship at another professor’s center. I explained the new professor’s suggestion that we continue the project there. Unsurprisingly, DVC declined. I was ready for this, so I said I was backing out.
But when I reported back to the professor, he was inexplicably upset and worried that I (!) had offended DVC. Then the worst (almost) happened – the new professor rescinded her offer by pretending she never made it.
I spent days agonizing over it, but he brought it back, and I finally moved to the center of him – essentially jumping from the frying pan into the fire.
Later, he told me the reason for retracting his offer is that DVC has told him that I will fail to do the project in the cultural institution project, so I will not be rewarded with other relationships in the university. So DVC – my postdoctoral host – actively tried to burn my professional bridges.
It was phase one when I was in university. For the second phase, we can go to the beginning of 2018, when I have been a postdoc in the new center for six months. A professor of higher education studies hosts several PhD students, and when a new cohort arrives, we postdocs are informed that we will be supervising them. We are not given a choice in this. The professor did not conduct the center democratically.
Personally, I think this is unwise. I was allocated to a PhD student whose research topic I barely knew. Also, postdocs are temporary, meaning we may not see students until the end of their PhD.
However, I persevered with the task, consoling myself that, in the end, I would have my first completed PhD supervision under my belt. These are career milestones and requirements when applying for some academic jobs.
Fast forward another 18 months to the end of 2019, when my student is approaching the third and final year of his PhD. By then, I had spent about 70 hours giving feedback on drafts of theses and seminars.
At this point, something else happened. I heard that my application for independent postdoctoral research funding had been successful and that I had been offered a six-month teaching position at a university in Norway. I told this professor and asked if he would let me go for a semester and come back. He replied that I could, on the condition that I keep an eye on my students while I was gone.
Then, a few weeks later, I received an email from the professor saying that my services as co-supervisor were no longer needed. The reason given was (surprise, surprise) because the PhD student’s other postdoc supervisor was also moving to the project and the student needed at least one supervisor in South Africa.
I am being changed. This makes me tired. I spent my time doing the work of a professor, supervising my students, for two years, and now I have nothing to show for it. So, I replied, asking to be reinstated as a supervisor or financially reimbursed. He refused.
I wrote a complaint to the director for research development and DVC: research (who has responsibility for postdocs). I explained how the professor has wasted time, and again, asked either to return or pay for the work.
Asking for something in return this way got me fired.
The director of research development said he found no reason for my complaint and the professor was willing to let me take new research funding elsewhere.
That’s how I found out that I had been fired. The professor never told me personally. Obviously, he and the director had discussed me behind the scenes.
A few days later, when I wrote to some postdoc friends to tell them that I was fired, I got an email from DVC: research, telling me that I was not allowed to return to the center, nor was I to communicate with anyone there about what had happened. The management is also colluding to muzzle me.
I went to Norway and found another university to host me and research when I return. But about 10 months after leaving university where I was treated poorly, I was hit by a wave of sadness.
I became unspeakably angry at how I’d come there in good faith, hoping to be treated as an academic professional, only to get entangled in the dubious agenda of colluding senior academics and managers and, in the end, treated like a shit dog.
I contacted the vice chancellor, asking for a meeting. I want to tell what happened, hoping for justice. At first, his PA promised me a meeting, but later he rejected me, and I never met him.
This story of what I learned about “institutional culture” at this university is a warning to future postdocs about the dangers of that position. Many postdocs are in chaos at this university. Postdocs are vulnerable and there is no leader to help me. However, it is the same leader who is the most dangerous to my career and mental health.
Ironically, both DVC academics and higher education professors have built reputations on their perceived concern for transformation and social justice. This hypocrisy played a big role in my loss of faith in the academic profession.
And as long as academics don’t have meaningful job security, speaking truth to power won’t pay.
Philippa Kerr is a freelance writer and artist. He was previously a postdoctoral fellow at two universities.
The views expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect official policy or position Mail & Guardians.