Listen, don't listen

 

Academics operate in a world where the rules of the game are not fully known to the players. In addition, they are in a state of constant change. This is because the rule book is what academics in temporary positions of power choose to do with it. Do they choose to reward monographs in Swedish or international peer-reviewed journal articles? Do they count the number of publications or do they read them and try to form their own opinion? Do publication channels play a role or not? Do co-written texts make you more or less competitive?

As if that wasn’t enough, the playing field and the players are constantly changing. In the 1990s, when the Swedish higher education sector was expanded, some historians went straight from receiving their PhD to having a permanent position as senior lecturer. This is completely unthinkable today. In the 1980s, it was unusual for academics to apply for positions at universities other than the one where they received their PhD. Today, academics from elite American universities may apply for a position as associate professor in Kristiansand in Norway. At Swedish universities, foreign leading academics are still rare in the competition. However, the Department of Archaeology, Conservation and History at the University of Oslo has experienced a rapid and dramatic shift in the 2010s. Here, local applicants have not even bothered applying. For the first time in history, a whole generation of Oslo historians have not had a real chance of being employed at their home department.

All these transformations make it difficult to get good advice. Nevertheless, many of us are pretty quick to offer such advice. “Only peer-reviewed articles count,” “edited volumes don’t make you competitive,” “without a second book, you’re nothing,” “no one cares about premodern history.” Nevertheless. As soon as expert opinions in relation to a position are made available, you realize that the rules of the game are hardly set in stone. Above all, you realize that none of the players knows for sure how the rules will be interpreted by the referees. What is crucial for one research funding body is less important for another. A behavior praised by one professor is seen as worthless by another.

At the same time, however, not everything is entirely arbitrary. There are patterns in the noise. If we look at longer time series, this variance tends to level out. Good academics often find their place sooner or later. But out of everyone prepared to offer advice – who should you actually listen to? How does the opinion of a renowned professor hold up against that of a recent associate professor or a successful postdoc? And to what extent can and should you think strategically? Isn’t the research profession primarily based on passion? Doesn’t following your heart result in the best research?

My general principle is to listen to many people but to be careful when it comes to trusting someone blindly. I look upon being absolutely certain how the academic world works as an alarm bell. I simply don’t think anyone knows. How could you when the rules of the game, the playing field, the players and the referees are constantly being replaced?

The group I trust the most, however, are the people a few years ahead of me. Perhaps one may talk about this in terms of a “proximity principle.” Sure, a lot of changes are taking place. Yet, the academy is a slow-moving world. The dynamics of the game do not change overnight. What worked yesterday will probably work tomorrow. However, it’s not at all certain that the recipes for success in the 1990s or 2000s are still effective.

Furthermore, at least in my experience, it’s treacherous to compromise too much with your own ideals and research ambitions. Things typically do not end well when someone tries for a long time to do something purely based on strategic reasons. What brings joy and pleasure must also be included. Otherwise, the sweet taste of victory may turn into ash in your mouth. Carrying out a research project that doesn’t engage you at a deeper level is not all that much fun. On the other hand, academics who can’t imagine doing anything else than what they want to do and who hate all this talk about games, strategy and career typically don’t have all that much fun either. This is a situation where bitterness, whining and envy are close at hand. This is something I try to stay clear of as much as possible.

Hence, I advocate adopting a mixture of strategic thinking and scholarly idealism. What you need to do, as Zlatan Ibrahimović says in his autobiography, is to “listen, don’t listen.” If you are to get anywhere in academia, you must be able to take advice and make some concessions. But you also need to dare to go your own way and shut out the counsel of others. Knowing when to do one thing and when to do the other is an art. Perhaps even one of the most important academic skills.

The 2014 five-year plan revisited

In the summer of 2014, I created my first ever five-year plan. That was not my idea, but an assignment in the online course PostdocTraining. It involved a great deal of effort. Before I embarked on creating it, I carried out a few exercises. They aimed to clarify who I was, where I wanted to go and what I needed to do to get there. One of these exercises involved estimating how good I was at some 40 academic tasks and the extent to which I enjoyed doing them. Another involved visualizing my ideal workday twenty years from now. From when I woke up to when I went to bed. 

They may not sound like particularly difficult exercises. But I was mentally exhausted. I wasn’t used to thinking about my life in these timescales. During my time as a PhD student, I did my best to avoid thinking about the time after I graduated. Four years felt like oceans of time. And if I only did my very best, things would probably work themselves out. After all, that had been the case so far. 

The result, as you know, was that I ended up in the basement at LUX. A humbling experience. So, I decided to carry out the exercises diligently and without any preconceived notions. My motto was try first, judge later. After a couple of weeks, I had created a five-year plan. It was obviously full of uncertain variables. But I was actually quite clear about which situation I wanted to find myself in by 2019. I wanted to be internationalized, to have secured funding for a research project in a new subject area and, by extension, to be employable. 

I looked upon internationalization as something absolutely crucial if I wanted to work as a historian. In my professional context, I noticed that those who wrote in English, regularly traveled to international conferences and became visiting scholars were rewarded with grants and positions. I had yet to do any of this. This was something I needed to change, and this is also something I have done. I now have many publications in English under my belt, I am used to international conferences and I have a rather substantial international network. With small children, it hasn’t been possible to engage in any longer visiting fellowships. In empirical terms, I have also for all intents and purposes continued to have a Swedish focus. But, on the whole, I’m quite satisfied with how I’ve worked on this. A lot has happened in five years. 

The second item has also gone according to plan. A couple of years into my time as a postdoc, I discovered the private investor blogosphere. At first, my reading was based on aimless curiosity and a fascination with an unfamiliar cultural phenomenon. Over time, I realized that this could probably be studied from a historical perspective. The key was when I started reading economic historian Orsi Husz’s articles on the financialization of everyday life. They were incredibly inspiring and served as a portal into this field. At the national history conference in Sundsvall, I approached her. The following year, we invited her to the history of knowledge seminar series in Lund. We then got her involved in an edited volume project, and next year we will work together within a module of the large research program headed by Jenny Andersson. This item on the list could certainly not have worked out any better! 

The third objective was to become employable. This is a point I’ve not really reached. I have yet to become a contender for a permanent faculty position. I hope that the second book, once finished, will enable me to be in contention. However, this obviously depends on who I am facing and what the external reviewers value. Contrary to sports based on concrete results, such as soccer or track and field, history is a sport based on receiving scores from judges. There are a lot of things I’m unable to influence. 

So, what would me in 2014 think of the years that have passed? Would he have been satisfied with the outcome? Yes, I’m absolutely certain that he would. My postdoc years have been my best time in academia. Each year, my work has become more interesting and the stage bigger. I think that the five-year plan I drafted in the summer of 2014 has something to do with this. Long-term planning makes dreams and ambitions more concrete. It offers tools for prioritizing and having the courage to do things that seem scary. In a few weeks’ time, the time has thus come to create my second five-year plan.

Further reading: The Basement

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Mobility

Earlier this year, Universitetsläraren, a magazine aimed at Swedish academics, wrote about the relative immobility of its readers. A figure mentioned in this context was that about 65 percent of Swedish historians were employed at the same university where they received their PhD. An anonymous academic was interviewed and talked about the difficulties of entering the Swedish system following a career abroad. Heiko Droste, professor of history at Stockholm University, related that he cynically used to say to his PhD students: “If you want a permanent position, never ever move.” Nevertheless, he encouraged them to move: “It’s good for you as an academic.” 

These articles were quickly shared on social media. In my feed, however, there was no direct debate. This is obviously not due to people not having any opinions on the issue of mobility. It’s because the subject is extremely sensitive. It concerns life choices. It is about who is allowed to participate and who is not allowed to do so. It is about what is highly valued and what is not. 

Furthermore, it’s a matter of different systems overlapping and colliding with each other. In, for instance, the American system, mobility is an institutionalized practice. The option to stay on does not exist. This is also the case in Sweden in the fields of natural science and medicine. If you enter the game of research in these environments, you already know – as a PhD student – that it will soon be time for you to pack your bags and leave. Without an international postdoc, you’re not employable. Immobility is a stigma. 

Should the situation be the same within the Swedish humanities? Is it possible to create stronger research environments if more academics move around? Who, then, are going to move? When in life should this occur? How long do you need to be away for? What are the consequences in terms of who has the opportunity to have an academic career? Does this benefit women or men? Are there any class aspects with regard to this phenomenon? Is it possible to combine the mobility ideal with having a family and a partner who’s also pursuing a career? 

There are no simple or obvious answers to these questions. Not at the system or the individual level. This is primarily due to the fact that, for obvious reasons, the individuals mainly affected – young academics without a permanent position – rarely speak out in the debate. This is not a question in which people want to make a name for themselves. Regardless of your opinion, you are bound to step on someone’s toes. The safe alternative is to remain silent. 

But there are exceptions. Last year, Karolina Enquist Källgren blogged about her lonely international year in Barcelona. A couple of weeks ago, My Hellsing launched a series of blog posts about her time as an international postdoc. They both adopt a broad perspective on their time abroad. Their experiences do not only concern research and work. Their posts also concern life, well-being and interactions with others. These aspects are sometimes forgotten when senior academics discuss the careers and life choices of younger colleagues. 

As far as I am concerned, I have limited experience of living and researching abroad. With the exception of a short visiting scholar stay in Oslo in the spring of 2017 (which was very successful and rewarding), I have worked at the Department of History at Lund University. I have been an undergraduate student, PhD student, lecturer with a temporary contract and an externally funded researcher in the same spot. Has this hampered me as an academic? Has it been smart from a career perspective? I don’t know. It’s hardly up to me to judge.

 Perhaps, it is not possible to evaluate the effects on your career of doing – or not doing – an international postdoc as soon as five to six years after having received your PhD. In general, Swedish historians don’t tend to find permanent positions that quickly. Hence, it is difficult to know what will be seen as valuable and what will not. As far as my academic generation is concerned, we don’t yet know who is allowed to participate and who is not (or under which conditions). Nor do we know what will be the consequences of various networks and contacts. This applies to local, national and international networks and contacts alike. What is clear, however, is that the effects on life as a result of different career choices are immediate. That is why I’m glad that those with practical experiences choose to write about these.

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