Among Professors: Academic Life, Power & Survival

When I applied for my current position, I was – at least on paper – not the ideal candidate. Understandably so: there are always people with a stronger CV or a more “sexy” specialisation. I was simply glad that I got the job. That is, until I heard who the paper favourite had been. It turned out to be someone I knew. Same niche, same research focus. Only less experience, fewer publications – in fact, less on every front. She had once applied for a position in my department and had been rejected. I understand that a university might sometimes prefer someone with a supposedly more exciting research topic over someone with extensive experience in a less fashionable area. Fine. But we were doing exactly the same work. So it wasn't the field. I did briefly wonder why, but didn’t dwell on it. I had the job, after all. Until I applied elsewhere and didn’t make it past the first round – while my PhD student did. That surprised me. I had taught him the field. I had more experience, more pub...

For a long time, I assumed that universities put students first. That seems self-evident: without students, a university has no reason to exist. In many places this is fortunately still the case, especially at younger universities and in countries where the traditional authority of professors has largely eroded. That is precisely why I was surprised by how things worked at one of the universities I was employed at. I was used to lengthy discussions about curricula, careful analyses of student evaluations, consultations with student representatives. Everything revolved around one question: how can we improve the educational experience? Not here. The first question I was asked was not what students need, but: “What would   you   like to teach?” I genuinely thought:  Really? I get to decide that myself? At first glance, that sounds appealing. A dream scenario for any professor. But once I saw which courses my colleagues were offering, my surprise turned into discomfort. Litt...

After your PhD comes the job search. And there, too, the unwritten agenda quietly governs what happens. My first position was a temporary teaching contract at another university. The job description was vague. They were looking for someone to replace one of two senior lecturers, in two completely different fields. At the interview, both lecturers were present. It quickly became clear that this was less about my suitability than about an internal power struggle. The question was who would get to offload a teaching responsibility. Of the three shortlisted candidates, two had a PhD in field A. The third had only a master’s degree, but in field B. The next day I received a call. The job was mine, but only if I agreed to teach field B. My expertise was in field A. The message was unmistakable. The lecturer from field B had won the internal battle, but his preferred candidate was not credible. So the position was offered to me, with the quiet expectation that I would decline. That way, they ...