Over the past few years, there have been more and more rumblings about the need for research conducted in the humanities and social sciences to be “relevant” to the general public (or taxpayers, as the debate is often framed). The recession has made this demand even more pressing. Mark Taylor was getting at that a little bit in his NYT op-ed. But this also came up recently in Canada when the federal budget earmarked some SSHRC money for “business-related degrees.”
Generally, my stomach turns when I read stories involving universities becoming more “relevant,” because that’s usually code for “commodified.” Because it’s not always immediately self-evident why certain strains of research are important, social sciences and humanities disciplines are often held up for ridicule and scrutiny (remember when Frank magazine used to mock the titles of papers presented at the Learneds?). In turn, the fear is that if the mandates of funding bodies and universities change in response to this need for knowledge to be immediately applicable to something, the role universities play will be devalued. The research that grad students and faculty produce will be held up to a commercial standard (rather than the standard of peer review), i.e. one in which studying Chaucer is much less important than producing widgets.
But I also know that scholars secretly wonder about the value of their work by wondering how useful it is. Generally, though, it’s only the former academics I talk to who admit to having thoughts like, “Is my work really useful?” When asked of oneself (rather than having the question posed to you by a funding body with an explicit policy mandate of utility behind it), this question usually means, “How is my work manifesting itself in the world?” Or more to the point, “Is my work making a difference?”
For the people who have left academia, the answer is, typically, no. What I’ve found consistently in my interviews with former academics is that there is a desire to connect with people that goes beyond the standard confines of an academic career–even a wildly successful one. For leavers, the number of articles published in peer-reviewed journals ceases to matter at the point where connecting with people (beyond the journal’s narrow audience) becomes more important.
And yet, there is still a vigorous denial about the need for scholars to feel like they’re making a contribution to society. They don’t need to feel that way because they’re making a contribution to scholarship. But for those of you who are thinking about leaving, is the desire to make a difference in the world a factor motivating your decision? Or is being useful just being a sellout?
Related posts:
{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }
I’m (still) in academia, based in an inherently applied field predicated on the concept of making contributions to society. That being said, one of my biggest considerations related to leaving academia is the thought that by staying in academia, I neglect my contributions to society by focusing my energies and contributions to an elite scholarship instead.
My main reason for wanting to leave academia is that in the course of writing my dissertation, I realized that I would like to ‘do’ something for the community, society, etc. Looking at my life at 30, I do have to wonder what I accomplished: if one sacrifices having children, earning money, building lasting social communities, and having weekends, it should be for a greater cause than a publication three other people in the world may remotely care about.
Yet, I do at times wonder if the notion that I am destined for greater things is based on illusions of grandeur: We are told that we are the best, the most intelligent, etc., ever since we entered graduate studies. Perhaps the feeling hat we can make a real difference is merely wishful thinking caused by an inflated sense of self-worth so typical of academics. But even if that were the case, than this is merely another reason to get out- and to do so fast!
Julep: Well put. People want to feel like they’re making a contribution, and perhaps those in applied fields can feel like they’re doing that–but it sounds like you’re suggesting that even those in an applied field can feel like their energies are too narrowly focussed on scholarship instead of society as a whole.
May: Your line about the sacrifices academics make for the cause of a barely-read publication made me laugh out loud. Sometimes when you hear someone state the obvious in such a blunt way, it’s kind of shocking–and hilarious. But your point about academics being uniquely groomed for having illusions of grandeur is one I’ve never considered before. I guess it’s because I’ve long thought that academics *do* kinda owe something to society because we/they *are* uniquely positioned to put our skills to use (however “use” is defined). I guess I just don’t want to think that we can make a difference is wishful thinking, regardless of one’s educational background. But I do agree that the collective delusions we all labour under are yet another great reason to re-consider the academic life!
This is actually one of my main motivations for thinking about leaving academia behind. I was such an idealist before graduate school. Now, as I start my 4th year of my PhD program in a social science, I feel like there is no time to do the things I *actually* care about between teaching, research and writing.
I love learning and contributing to the growth of knowledge, but I also passionately care about being useful to more than just an elite group. I want to be engaged in the world around me, not just writing about it from an office on a campus.
Ms. R., thanks for all of your comments. I know that what you’re saying is going to resonate with a loooot of readers! Good luck in your decision-making about leaving, and let me know if there are any topics related to your situations you’d like me to explore.