Co-constructing new ways of working: relationality and care in post-pandemic academia

ABSTRACT

In this article, we write collectively, using an autoethnographic approach to problematize the pervasive neoliberal performance culture in Higher Education (HE). While exploring the challenges many of us faced during the pandemic under neoliberal HE demands, we critique conventional notions of the ideal worker manifest in neoliberal discourses of performance and excellence. We explore the potential for academics and academia at large for critical engagement with self-care and caring for/with others. By adopting a relational approach rooted in an ethics of care, this study contributes to reconfiguring HE cultures of ‘excellence’, pointing to how care and relationality at work might allow academics to change the discourse of academic value and practices. Our collective reflection observes that practicing care individually and collectively in everyday academic work may be a powerful force for community growth and change.

KEYWORDS:

• Academia
• care ethics
• collective autoethnography
• feminism
• neoliberal culture
• writing differently

Introduction

Imagine: a job in academia that enables a fulfilling life, one overflowing with significance where one could contribute positively to society and to individual students; a job allowing time to focus on quality, providing intellectual stimulation and the potential to flourish through relationships with colleagues blossoming in advancement to knowledge. To go to bed tired but satisfied, knowing a good day’s work had been done. (An academic in her 60s)

Imagining the ‘conditions of possibility’ (Harding 2013, 26) that facilitate a dreamed-of academic subjectivity, where the produced self is relational and not only in service of the management, is a starting point for marking the profound shifts that have taken place in the neoliberal, managerialistic Higher Education (HE) systems of the past 30 years. Since the 1980s, along with numerous public sector reforms, HE institutions have been structured increasingly through new managerial lenses based almost entirely on a neoliberal ideology, operating like businesses and focusing on measurable outcomes and productivity (e.g. Boncori, Sicca, and Bizjak 2020; Lynch 2014; Nixon and Scullion 2022). Here, neoliberalism does not merely imply that HE institutions are autonomous and free but rather compelled to follow market norms and directives (Deem and Brehony 2007; Keisu and Carbin 2014). In addition to and as part of neoliberalism, new managerialism has played a significant role in shaping HE cultures. New managerialism denotes an emphasis on corporate management practices, performance measurement and accountability. Such managerialist neoliberal ideas promote the image of the ‘ideal worker’: a competent, independent and performance-driven individual (more often than not, one abiding by heteronormative ableist standards) that works non-stop to meet the (out)performance objectives of neoliberal workplaces (McRobbie 2015; Read 2009). This has led to a shift in the way HE institutions are managed, emphasizing strategic planning, budgeting and individual efficiency over collective work. As a result, the power dynamics between academic staff and management have shifted, with a growing emphasis on managerial control and oversight (Deem and Brehony 2007; Keisu and Carbin 2014). These changes have had and continue to have significant implications for academic work and subjectivity. Academics are increasingly pressured to focus on measurable outcomes and targets, rather than pursuing research and teaching that aligns with their values and interests. This has led to a sense of alienation and frustration amongst academic staff, feeling that their work is undervalued and underappreciated (Steinþórsdóttir et al. 2019). In this context, which intensified during the pandemic, we are prompted to ask: what can academics do to challenge such normative, sometimes oppressive, even careless working patterns of neoliberal academic institutions?

Our initial intentions to challenge neoliberal paradigms and critique the academic system have transformed into a profound exploration of care, not only within academia but also within and between ourselves. We have learned that caring for ourselves and others is not a weakness, nor is it a distraction from academic rigor. On the contrary, embracing care as an integral part of our academic lives has enhanced the quality of our work and enriched our personal experiences. It has redefined the boundaries of what it means to be successful in business schools. By embracing a collective autoethnographic approach to investigate the constellation of neoliberal academia that each of us works for, and motivated by the feminist ethics of care, we are able to propose alternative solutions and critical insights that contest the systemic power dynamics existing both inside and outside of business schools; these that promote the mainstreaming of the ‘ideal worker’. This approach, which we position within the growing debates on writing differently (Boncori 2023; Gilmore et al. 2019; Helin 2023; Pullen, Helin, and Harding 2020), allows us to recognize our potential to make space for individual needs and perspectives to be recognized, acknowledged, listened to and accommodated as part of collective and collaborative efforts. As we move forward, we hope that our paper serves as a catalyst for change, prompting further discussions and reflections on the importance of care in academic spaces. We envision a future where the pursuit of knowledge is not driven solely by metrics and productivity but is rather deeply rooted in empathy, compassion and respect for everyone involved.

Academic realities in neoliberal times: critiquing metrics and performativity

The critiques of neoliberal and new managerial culture within academia encompass a range of concerns, reflecting the profound impact of these cultural changes on various dimensions of academic life (Fleming 2021; Steinþórsdóttir et al. 2019; Strauβ and Boncori 2020). One fundamental critique centers on the commodification of education and research. In the neoliberal paradigm, universities are increasingly treated as market-driven entities, emphasizing income generation and profitability. This shift has led to the prioritization of activities that directly contribute to revenue, often at the cost of educational quality and meaningful research exploration (Alesson, Gabriel, and Paulsen 2017; Brown 2015). Linking to the neoliberal managerialism, the proliferation of metrics-driven assessment systems has attracted significant scrutiny (Boncori, Sicca, and Bizjak 2020; Shore and Susan 2015). As academics, we often find ourselves entangled in a race to fulfill specific numerical targets, such as publishing in prestigious journals, teaching courses generating favorable student satisfaction scores, securing research funding through grant applications, networking strategically with profile-raising circles and promoting their academic profiles through digital platforms (Alesson, Gabriel, and Paulsen 2017; Boncori 2023; Szwabowski and Wesniejewsla 2017); aiming at either a promotion or job security. However, the pressure to constantly outperform peers and meet arbitrary performance targets may foster an environment that discourages the open sharing of ideas and encourages the hoarding of knowledge in the name of competitive edge (Mittleman 2018). Further, the intense focus on quantifiable benchmarks prioritizes individualistic pursuits of measurable successes, which inadvertently eclipses fundamental academic values such as the ethos of collaboration, mutual support and the nurturing of a vibrant intellectual community (Boncori 2023). Research has established that the relentless pursuit of numerical achievements exacts a toll on academics’ mental and emotional health, often leading to burnout, stress and a diminished sense of purpose (e.g. Pereira 2021).

Further, extracting insights from the concept of the ‘ideal worker’ – which perpetuates a narrow, unrealistic view of academic productivity – often ends up dismissing the needs and priorities of individuals and overlooking systemic disparities (Strauβ and Boncori 2020). This echoes the criticism of neoliberal and new managerialist culture within academia, essentially amongst marginalized groups, who encounter additional hurdles and barriers due to the pressure to conform to such an ideal worker model (e.g. Acker 1990; 2006; Strauβ and Boncori 2020). Women, for instance, are frequently burdened with caregiving responsibilities that can hinder their ability to dedicate endless hours to work, perpetuating gender inequalities (Özkazanç-Pan and Pullen 2020). Moreover, academics from marginalized backgrounds may face additional barriers, such as limited access to resources and networks, making it even more challenging for them to fit the ideal worker mold (Brown 2015). This further perpetuates gender disparities in academia, restricting the advancement of women in HE leadership positions (Gallant 2014; Mavin and Yusupova 2021). Thus, it is not surprising to conclude that this new managerial culture can be qualified as lack of care, a form of unwitting, yet malignant neglect. In this way, it exacerbates existing inequalities, undermining the strides made in promoting diversity and inclusivity within academia.

We suggest that these challenges ought to be at the forefront of our conversations within and beyond academia (Kostera and Strauβ 2022; Pereira 2021). The normalization of this kind of management is part of a wider cultural and societal transformation, resulting in the institutionalization of overwork cultures in the name of ‘excellence’ (Pereira 2021). We created a cartoon sketch (Cartoon 1), depicting the many activities undertaken during our daily work-life in the neoliberal academy. We follow from Gherardi’s (2017) form of visual theorization, offering insight into the affective and practical elements shaping our daily embodied experiences at work. In this way, our cartoon provides a performative, provocative and reflexive angle/text for rethinking the values shaping today’s HE context. It offers an artistic reading of the sad realities surrounding neoliberal academic life, pushing us to reflect on how we might work together, as academics but also in collaboration with the management, to change things for the better.

Cartoon 1. A fictional academic wheel.

Neoliberal ideologies have constantly pushed academics to become more effective by intensifying their work and sense of self-governance, increasingly emphasizing teaching outcomes and research outputs. With this in mind, we think it is important to develop and further extend a ‘hopeful critique’ – an invitation to collectively re-imagine and work towards a HE system that prioritizes the well-being of academics, embraces diversity, and upholds values beyond the narrow confines of productivity; to instigate conversations and actions that can lead towards positive change. Affected by Barcan’s (2013) discussions on the structural factors that have contributed to the efficacy-driven climate across the HE sector, we, as a group¹ of women academics working in different academic contexts internationally, decided to join this dialogue to reflect critically on our respective often ‘paradoxical’ positionalities within our neoliberal higher education contexts. Through collective reflections and personal narratives, we share diverse perspectives and experiences, revealing the profound constraints we face in navigating the ever-quantifiable overworking culture of neoliberal academia. These experiences expose a pervasive lack of care in academic institutions manifest in the neglect for individuals’ mental and physical well-being, strained relationships and an erosion of the values underpinning the pursuit of knowledge creation. We argue that universal meritocratic assessments based solely on values associated with masculine dominance can be problematic when university cultures become exclusively dependent on winning competitive output games (Alesson, Gabriel, and Paulsen 2017; Boncori 2023). In such a situation, we suggest that there is an urgent need to look more closely into the embodied, most often vulnerable and subversive experiences of academics in university culture and the potential of sharing such experiences collectively for mobilizing change.

By critically examining the challenges posed by neoliberalism and new managerialism in HE, we hope to foster a deeper understanding of a need for change and transformation. We argue that care, including both self-care and care for and with others, should be recognized as a vital counterforce to the prevailing normative and uncaring neoliberal culture. In this text, we situate care as a relational practice extending beyond individual well-being, recognizing also the need for self-care. Doing so, we propose self and other-care as fundamental to the sustainability and vibrancy of the academic community as a whole. We aim to draw attention to the urgent need for a cultural shift – one that embraces care, relationality and the intrinsic value of intellectual work. This shift calls for a broader engagement with values holistic well-being, supportive relationships and the creation of knowledge to address societal needs.

Our approach

We employ a collective autoethnographic approach and writing because it allows us, as researchers and writers, to also become research subjects with agency and a point of view. This approach does so by offering room to carefully uncover and explore complex embodied experiences and to integrate our respective stories by recognizing similarities and differences between us (Kaasila-Pakanen et al. 2023). We do so in a sensible and sensitive way, both personally and professionally (Cunliffe 2022; Santiago, Karimi, and Alicea 2017), to vertically capture the depth and simultaneity of our stories, resisting the constraints of a linear narrative, and elevating each moment to offer a snapshot of our lived realities (Helin 2023; Helin, Kostera, and Srednicka 2023). Collective autoethnography emphasizes individual self-reflection and personal storytelling explored relationally and intersubjectively (e.g. Ahonen et al. 2020; Gao and Sai 2020). This methodological approach has become common in critical organizational studies on neoliberal universities, academic work and identities (Mandalaki and Daou 2021; Stierncreutz and Tienari 2023; Zawadzki and Jensen 2020). It resonates with the ethos of ‘writing and researching differently’ (Boncori 2023; Pullen, Helin, and Harding 2020), encouraging researchers to reflect critically and reflexively on situated experiences of living through embodied narratives, as well as on their relevance for broader, multifaceted social and political issues (Learmonth and Humphreys 2012).

Our writing approach matters, since collective texts depend on individual voices joining forces. Such a storytelling manifestation makes it possible to effectively explain the intricate experiences resulting from our intersectional differences, opening the door to collective feminism in response to the widespread neoliberal culture in which we work (Özkazanç-Pan and Pullen 2020). For us, the pandemic upended many deeply ingrained ways of knowing, inspiring us to collaborate through/in writing by eloquently sharing our work-life challenges and hardships, as well as our means of coping and enjoying each other’s company as a kind of collective healing and rehabilitation. Our shared account does not form a conventional narrative or a case. Rather, it shapes collective thought that seeks to critically evaluate how dominant neoliberal demands in HE affect our lives, affirming the potential to cultivate caring practices through everyday work. In so doing, we wish to illustrate social phenomena, experiences and identities that would otherwise be difficult to grasp through an ‘orthodox’ methodological approach (Stierncreutz and Tienari 2023; Tienari 2019; Zawadzki and Jensen 2020). This collaborative process gives rise to an account written differently through verticality and slowness (Helin 2023; Helin, Kostera, and Srednicka 2023; Satama 2021), contributing to the growing discussions on writing differently in organization studies (e.g. Boncori 2023; Gilmore et al. 2019; Mandalaki and Daou 2021; Pullen, Helin, and Harding 2020). In this unhurriedness, we find space for contemplation, allowing our narrative to breathe, enabling subtle and detailed perceptions. As we engage with these principles, our hope is that readers will not only witness our experiences but, in a sense, coexist with verticality and slowness in their own experiences.

Our initial encounters happened with Microsoft Teams during the pandemic. We all met following the lead author’s invitation to get to know each other better. We initially met twice over the course of a month to exchange our academic experiences, discussing the possibility of undertaking this emerging project together. We soon decided that reflecting on the potential of care to soothe the strains of our overworking routines during the pandemic would be a resonant question to explore for all of us. To facilitate the collective autoethnographic process, we began by agreeing on a set of guiding questions that would structure our individual reflections and group discussions. These questions focused on the group’s reflections around academic subjectivity during the pandemic, including the ways in which neoliberal and managerial HE cultures have affected us, as well as the strategies and tactics that we employed to challenge and resist such dominant cultures during the pandemic. We also established a set of ethical principles and practices to ensure that the research process was conducted in a respectful and sensitive manner for everyone involved. We stressed the need for confidentiality and anonymity, respect for each other’s perspectives and experiences, and collective reassurance that all group members had equal opportunities to contribute and shape the research process, but that they could also drop out if they so wished for any reason.

In practice, the video conferencing platforms which we used, due to COVID-19 pandemic isolation, presented both challenges and opportunities to our collective autoethnographic process. On the one hand, meeting virtually allowed us to meet easily and collaborate across different geographical locations and time zones (in Australia, China, France and the U.K. and in our separate households), despite the physical distance. This expanded our reach and allowed us to share our diverse perspectives. However, we recognized that the virtual dimension of our meetings also tested our embodied, collective experiences; it lacked the physical and sensory experiences of sharing the same space, which can foster a sense of reciprocating energy and connection. To mitigate these challenges, we intentionally created opportunities for connection and embodied experiences. For instance, we incorporated writing exercises and creative activities such as drawing cartoons/sketches for those who wished to experiment with more artistic depictions of their/our stories, encouraging collective reflection through self-expression. We also tried to check in frequently to support each other’s well-being and mental health.

Then, we each engaged in individual self-reflection and wrote our personal experiences and reflections on the topic of the neoliberal and managerial HE cultures we were positioned within. Individual reflection and writing are critical components of collective autoethnography as they allow for the emergence of personal narratives that can be analyzed and interpreted collectively (Boylorn and Orbe 2014). Following the individual reflection and writing stage, we shared our intersectional positionalities and life experiences in a group setting and engaged in open and reflexive discussions about our experiences through regular follow-up meetings and discussions. Through these discussions, we identified themes and patterns that emerged from the collective narratives. We also made use of collaborative tools such as shared Google documents to co-create the manuscript, providing feedback and comments to one another’s sections and ideas. The process of sharing and discussing our personal narratives was crucial to this collective autoethnography, allowing us to generate deeper insights into each other’s personal experiences and reflect on their broader, social, cultural and political relevance.

Our collective autoethnographic encounters were grounded from the start in an ethics of care approach. As observed by Tronto (1993), embodying an ethical stance inspired by a shared need for care involves attending to the specificities of relationships and their positionalities. In our case, this allowed us to build a trusting and respecting community to share our experiences and stories in a meaningful and caring way. In a culture where individualism prevails, developing relationships with others serves the pragmatic function of accomplishing individual goals. On the other hand, ‘moralities built on the image of the independent, autonomous, rational individual largely overlook the reality of human dependence and the morality for which it calls’ (Held 2006, 10). Care ethics departs from a deductive, calculative logic to moral decision-making by conceptualizing mutual dependency and cooperative interactions as ontologically fundamental (Fotaki and Harding 2017; Mandalaki and Fotaki 2020). It views ethical behavior as largely a question of shared responsibilities arising from an attachment to others (Kictay and Meyers 1987). As a result, providing care for others does not involve imposing solutions to solve problems. It rather entails respecting the other’s autonomy and working to improve the ability of the cared-for to make sensible choices (Liedtka 1996) as part of a collective caring process.

Overall, the collective autoethnographic approach in this study offers a valuable contribution to the growing body of literature on the impact of neoliberal and managerial cultures on academic subjectivity. By foregrounding the experiences and perspectives of a diverse group of academics, we provide a nuanced, multifaceted understanding of the ways in which these dominant cultures shape academic identity and practice. Our search for self-care and mutual connectedness in such a neoliberal performing culture often led us to think about how we can nurture the relational aspects of work, whereby individual needs can be recognized, acknowledged and accommodated. Thus, an ethics of care strengthens relationships and interpersonal connections because it does not cultivate reliance on others due to power structures. Instead, it emphasizes understanding and acceptance of others’ freedom of choice and action. It also takes into account aspects of human experience that have been neglected by traditional political and moral theories (e.g. Engster 2019). In turn, we inductively embraced ethics of care as a possible way of expanding academic value through a daily practice of caring for ourselves, for our colleagues and our students.

In the next three sections, we reflect on our academic work using vignettes developed through this collective autoethnographic process (also see Abdellatif et al. 2021). These capture the personal experiences we went through during the pandemic to ground a consideration of future academic work rooted in care for/with one another. The way we analyze our shared account is not intended to generalize our experiences. Rather, it attends to the situated embodied elements involved in our interactions, drawing from these, insights infused with careful listening, reading, sensitivity and sensibility, in contrast to the conventional and constraining techniques of analyzing data and theorizing (Cunliffe 2022).

Unveiling structural inequalities under the neoliberal performative culture

The neoliberal performative culture can take different forms, even in ‘privileged’ work sectors such as academia. Generally, neoliberalism has helped these sectors create a new raison d’être that calls for ever-increasing metrics, growth, and profit. Reflecting upon questions such as ‘Why are we pursuing accountable productivity? What is it for?’ becomes the focus of whether or not we should conform to the neoliberal performing culture of/in academia. The vignettes below are our reflections upon ‘what constitutes a good academic climate, and how do academics account for goodness?’ during the pandemic. Our reflections put the uncertainty, anxiety, and ambiguity of a working woman’s doing/un-doing on the table, which, beyond recognizing the ‘self’, leads one to question the very value of one’s work (Boncori, Sicca, and Bizjak 2020; Pereira 2021).

Thanks to my ‘privileged’ position of ‘not being a mother’, I had the time to write and read during the lockdowns, while most of my colleagues were home-schooling. Such ‘production’ led to a number of measurable academic outputs. This made my colleagues proud of me during my annual evaluation. They said, ‘Wow, what a productive year you’ve had!’ The first time I heard this, I stared at them (behind the screen) in bemusement and disbelief. What did I have? ‘A productive year?’ Am I the ‘ideal worker’, whose publications satisfy the university metrics, putting me on the list of the well-recognized colleagues? Do I embody what I hate? I am conquered by ambivalent feelings! Will I be able to repeat such a ‘productive academic year’ next year? Is this what is expected from me? One colleague said, ‘You exploited the situation to your benefit’. Really? Is this what I actually did? Did I exploit my ‘privilege’ at the expense of others’ physical and psychological well-being (or suffering) during the pandemic just to publish and outperform? I swear this was not my intention! It is crazy how the neoliberal culture leads us to put the blame on ourselves and be apologetic for the work that we do – especially as women, usually naturalized as maternal bodies, instructed to consistently occupy little space to not challenge the status quo. The meaningful process behind my writing is silenced, in an ‘ideal worker’ culture that values outputs and metrics.

The above vignette reveals that academics within institutions have engaged in a kind of horse race to produce outputs and demonstrate productivity at work. In this competition, perceptions of structural inequalities became apparent because, often, women who were presumed not to have child-caring responsibilities would be perceived as being more productive at work. This was sometimes referred to as being in a more ‘privileged’ and ‘adaptable’ position (Utoft 2020). This privilege is juxtaposed with the perception that she ‘exploited’ the situation to her benefit. These individuals, though childfree, may lead full lives and may also have other caregiving responsibilities. This emphasizes what we are attempting to convey, which is that the dynamics of the workplace in neoliberal academia do not appear to grant childfree academics the same level of entitlement, as demonstrated by the fact that they may be expected to manage higher workloads or stay late at work in comparison to their colleagues who are parental figures. More precisely, women tend to be criticized harsher than men when they choose not to have children or when they outperform at work, which often leads them to be apologetic and unjustly self-blameful in masculine cultures that consistently suppress their embodied subjectivities. Meanwhile, childfree women may be perceived to be beneficial notwithstanding their own challenges and gendered stigmas. However, such viewpoints mask the demands of a neoliberal culture; the expectation of continuous output, especially during times of global crises, is a marker of a culture that prioritizes what is required from an individual opposed to the interests of the community throughout its entirety. Conflicts are not just interpersonal but deeply rooted in the systemic inequalities that define academic environments. And they may take different forms, as illustrated in the following vignette.

My son’s nursery was shut for two weeks. On the first day when it finally reopened, two hours after I’d just ‘dropped’ him off (after buckling him in the pram so he couldn’t escape, the three-year-old tried his best to say that he didn’t want to go to the nursery), I was thinking about how to get through the dozens of things on my list. The nursery manager called me in a panic, instructing me to pick-up my son and get him tested because he had ‘non-stoppable coughing’. Only half a day at the nursery and he already caught COVID?! I chose not to believe it. After some stressful conversations with the nursery manager, I realized that they panicked because my son had spent some time in another household over the weekend – in my support bubble family. The nursery could not take the risk of having new COVID-19 cases and they chose not to listen. We reached a compromise – I would come to pick up my son as soon as I’d finished teaching. It was the induction day for new students, and I had to deliver an online lecture. As the program director, I could not be absent, because colleagues and students would complain otherwise. There was no collective contingency plan, no deputy program director and no cover in general for when we, or the people we cared for, got sick. I understood that each one of us just had to get through this COVID-19 by ourselves. No one had any capacity to take on additional teaching or administrative work. When I eventually finished my teaching and program directing obligations, I rushed to the nursery. I was shocked to see my son being accompanied out by staff dressed in full COVID-19 PPE! I would never forget the facial expression of my three-year-old when he saw me. A suffocating, heavy sensation rushed to my chest. I blamed myself for not being able to collect him immediately following the phone call. It was obvious that he was going to be put in a separate room for the rest of the day. In order to ‘perform’ at work in the way I was expected to, I ignored my child.

The above vignettes make us reevaluate the structural disparities that influence academic production, particularly the gendered expectations that shape individual experiences. The portrayal of a women’s internalized struggle echoes the broader societal expectations that women, especially mothers, should seamlessly balance caregiving and professional duties. The narrative does not blame the individual, instead, it serves as a reflection of the systemic pressure leading individuals to make choices, and sometimes compromises to align with the norms set by the neoliberal academic environment. This reflection underscores how some people, frequently as a result of advantages, have greater opportunities to succeed, while others bear a disproportionate burden. The feeling of ambivalence towards being perceived as a highly productive person reflects an internal struggle with the conflicting expectations and values associated with academic success. Together, we question whether our productivities align with our own principles and whether our productivities unintentionally contribute to the systemic inequities in academia; we critically examine the prevailing culture that prioritizes quantifiable outputs over individual situatedness and the interrelatedness of vulnerable lives (Lopez 2019).

Compromising personal well-being to meet neoliberal expectations

As human beings, we are always so much more than what neoliberal academia wants to see in/from us. The impact of the neoliberal logic on resource allocation, however, appears to emphasize preserving economic activities while restricting recreational and cultural spaces, reflecting a preference for productivity and work over an individual’s overall well-being and social experiences (Brown 2015). This raises questions about the values and priorities of the ‘business world’ in which such decisions are made. In the following section, we highlight the importance of recognizing the significance of self-care, recreational and cultural activities for individual well-being, creativity and connection to others. Doing so prompts us to reconsider how our ability and desire to nurture those parts of ourselves ‘within’ and ‘beyond’ academia could perhaps form a resistance to the high-performance culture of neoliberal academia.

I feel sadness each time I hear how productive 2020/2021 was for colleagues and the faculty in achieving record numbers of journal article publications and grant successes. Productive was not my experience. My experience was an exacerbation of impairment related fatigue from the intensity of long exhausting days working ‘online’. All of my plan, pace, prioritize strategies were being nullified from the demands of the new digital day. Day after day. I could only collapse after turning off the laptop, unable to rest or recuperate the fatigue away, unable to use evenings and weekend time ‘productively’ from the bone deep weariness I felt. Despite knowing I needed to prioritize impairment related self-care in how my work was organized, it felt difficult to do so. I wondered why I was unable (unwilling?) to talk about it (to whom?). Who isn’t going through a tough time? Who isn’t tired? In such circumstances how do I explain the ableist assumptions inherent in responses to COVID-19, and the disproportionate impact the resultant intense days have on exacerbating impairment effects and limiting my ability to function beyond the boundaries of the workday? Reflecting on these experiences through this writing partnership I have experienced recognition and acceptance of my experiences of crip time, the enfolded temporalities created through the nexus of impairment and the neoliberal academy (Chazan 2023), and identified the moral obligation to make this visible (Cepeda 2021).

Whilst this vignette identifies a growing recognition to challenge the implications of neoliberalism for disabled people (Cepeda 2021; Chazan 2023), the social codification of disabled people’s impairment related self-care requirements remains problematic despite thirty years of feminist critique and calls to challenge the assumption of non-disability as an organizing norm in the academy (Williams and Mavin 2014).

Under the second wave of quarantine, all of my teaching and research are [have gone back] online. Yet, this wave seems a bit less ‘restrictive’ in terms of economic activity than the previous one: people can go to work, if necessary (work-from-home remains highly encouraged, though), and transportation functions regularly. Yet, restaurants and bars only remain open for take-away options, while sports or cultural activities are completely banned. I was so sad to realize that I couldn’t attend my tango class anymore. During a research seminar the other day, one of my colleagues mentioned that we are actually ‘allowed’ to go to school for meetings only but cannot have lunch with colleagues. Thinking of all this strikes me. In fact, it seems that any activities favoring productivity and delivery of work objectives continue ‘as usual’, while spaces of/for recreation and culture are closed. Does the possibility of contamination reduce in the metro tube taking one to work as compared to an art gallery or a restaurant where people could enter in limited numbers or even sit outside?

These short reflections suggest that the neoliberal way of organizing organizations has been magnified during pandemic times, manifested in the fact that much of social life is put on ‘pause’ while businesses operate ‘as usual’. In practice, self-care is frequently seen as playing a critical defensive or resisting role, constructing a walled-off perimeter around the individual to shield them from work-related pressures (Deem and Brehony 2007). The progressive left also criticizes the notion of self-care by placing responsibility for individual well-being on individuals rather than the system. Even so, the notion that self-care perpetuates a false dichotomy between personal and systemic change implies that prioritizing self-care undermines the need for structural transformation within academia. We arrive at the critique of how engaging in self-care practices does not inherently negate the need for broader systemic change but can serve to both challenge organizing norms and preserve the mental and physical health of individuals within existing structures, irrespective of their productivity or marketability (Mavin et al. 2023).

During a departmental meeting, a male colleague shared his struggling experience of being a father, an academic who juggles childcare and work. He proposed a shadow system, whereby parent academics could be paired up with colleagues who do not have heavy care responsibilities at home. In doing so, they would be able to shoulder work-related responsibilities if there is a case of childcare emergency. Such conversation led to further discussions on wider issues of care, including conflating the different care needs or opposing one against the other. Some colleagues argue that this might impose extra workload on those, who do not have either childcare or elderly care at home. I remain ambivalent; though I thought it was a great idea for a single and new colleague like me to stay connected with colleagues at a time when isolation is prevalent, it is difficult to deny that seemingly unfair burdens are added, especially when there is always a question of the ‘legitimacy’ of non-work activities and personal life. I mean that, for the most part, only certain non-work tasks and activities – principally those related to care and family responsibilities – are deemed appropriate grounds for taking time and energy absent from work. But just because I’m single and living alone doesn’t mean I don’t have a private life. And the vulnerable side of having fewer non-work responsibilities than colleagues with families is that usually no one prioritizes my well-being or shares my financial burdens, so I must prioritize and take care of them myself.

By prioritizing self-care, we challenge the notion that our value is derived solely from academic achievements or meeting institutional demands, thereby resisting the homogenizing effects of neoliberalism. By advocating for self-care and care for others, we challenge the relentless pursuit of productivity and reassert our agency in defining our boundaries and well-being. We argue that embracing caring practices in the workplace is an essential component of academic life and can contribute to reshaping academic cultures and norms to be more inclusive (Pereira 2021). For example, in the above vignette, the male colleague’s proposal of a shadow system acknowledges the need for structural support and solidarity within academic departments and the importance of addressing the demands of caregiving alongside professional obligations (Mavin et al. 2023). However, such seemingly caring practices amongst academic colleagues can also raise concerns about potential inequities and increased workloads for colleagues without caregiving responsibilities. This highlights the complexity of care-related discussions and the tendency to conflate or oppose different forms of care.

Upon revisiting our experiences in the neoliberal university, we come to recognize the urgency to respond to individual needs through an inter-connected caring approach, which cultivates a sense of empathetic concern for the good of the self and others in communion (Baier 1987). Yet the reality of our academic working lives in neoliberal business schools reveals how individuals’ different needs often remain unseen and unrecognized, leaving individual academics feeling exhausted, pressured, unvalued and possibly resentful – even of the self and each other – and more certainly of the organization. This results in many academics not being able to flourish professionally as they might have done otherwise. We echo Kormanik and Nwaoma’s argument (2015) on the need to build inclusive organizational cultures that proclaim the importance of an organizations’ efforts to attend to individual needs, while respecting and valuing individual differences.

In search of intellectual engagement infused with an ethics of care

In this text, we present a collective autoethnographic account that embraces and seeks to foster a ‘relational’ and caring work culture. We argue that such an approach is grounded in mutually (pre)reflexive processes of moral education and development through open discussions on the affects and vulnerabilities informing our respective embodied experiences at work. This echoes and extends Pullen and Rhodes’ (2015, 159) critique of how such neoliberal values remain ‘blind to affectual relationships, care, compassion or any form of feeling experienced pre-reflexively through the body’. By reiterating the importance of recognizing such embodied and affective elements, traditionally unnoticed in neoliberal academia, we propose an ethics of care as a useful angle for re-centering our academic practices around notions of (self)care, relationality, but also, respecting and attending to the self and the other. Our process allowed us to experience what embracing a care ethics approach might feel and look like. We acknowledge that there is a growing literature stream, drawing notably on feminist thought addressing the potential of relationality and care to challenge neoliberal academia’s disembodied discourses and ideology (e.g. Gill and Donaghue 2016; Heath, O’Malley, and Tynan 2019; Lafaire et al. 2022; Newcomb 2021; Satama 2021). As we build on these debates, we intend to foster a relational learning experience through a collective autoethnography that records our reflections, and in doing so, exposing what impedes or promotes our academic careers and lives both within and without neoliberal universities. Our work is rooted in a relational approach which counters the static conceptualization of certain individuals and groups of academics in the neoliberal university culture (Lafaire et al. 2022). Doing so, it contributes to the burgeoning debates calling to recreate a sustainable HE culture grounded in humanity and solidarity across and with different others (De Vita and Case 2016; Kostera and Strauβ 2022; Meriläinen, Salmela, and Valtonen 2021; Pullen, Helin, and Harding 2020). This approach derives from Gilligan’s feminist care ethics grounded in the principle that we are all morally and epistemologically relational and interdependent beings (Butler 2009; 2015; Held 2006) and that we share embodied existences through generous intercorporeal interactions (Diprose 2002). Here, intercorporeality is seen as ‘subjectivity arising from the relation between one’s body and the bodies of others’ (Pullen and Vachhani 2021, 2), directing ‘our attention towards care and compassion for [and with] the Other’ (Lerner 2019; cited in Kostera and Strauβ 2022, 188).

As key element of this relational approach, care can be understood as ‘a strong and generous bond between people – solidarity’ that can generate resistance (Kostera and Strauβ 2022, 188). Further, caring practices can engender despondency, since care can be strained with contradictions and ambiguities (Hughes et al. 2007). While we often show our care for and about other people through emotional attentiveness, actual caring for others, and a broader group/community, entails recognizing the structural inequalities and power dynamics (e.g. Kipp and Hawkins 2022) that have been reproduced and sustained by neoliberal cultures. Thus, care also requires a balance of interests between selves and others (Okkonen, Takala, and Bell 2021), between genuine openness and engagement with otherness and difference and nurturing receptivity, enabling us to ‘feel with the others’ (Noddings 2013). This view recognizes not only subjects’ ontological interdependence but also stresses the embodied, affectual and emotional aspects of care, holding that ‘to care is to act not by fixed rule but by affection and regard’ (ibid, 24). Under power dynamics, such interdependence suggests generous self-other encounters as a prerequisite for ethico-political engagement with differences and otherness (Kaasila-Pakanen 2021). Thus, a feminist ethics of care approach is not only a theory; it is also a commitment to practice, whereby caring for others does not involve idealizing empathy (imposing pre-determined solutions for problem-solving purposes) but rather, respecting others’ positionalities, autonomy and embodied differences and working with them to improve the capacity of those cared for and about to make better decisions (Gilligan 1982; Noddings 2013; Simola 2015). Therefore, it is necessary to collaborate with others in ever-broader, more inclusive ways to resist the neoliberal transformation of higher education. This might allow for the forging of meaningful connections with peers and communities outside of conventional, predetermined channels as well as the combining of knowledges and understandings to build more durable and equitable social formations (Giannakakis 2020).

Our collaboration process during and after the pandemic taught us that it was not easy to practice self and other ‘care’ when we were all working under extreme circumstances. To prevent us from falling into the performance trap for the writing of this paper, we gave ourselves long deadlines measured in months instead of weeks or days. We constantly reminded ourselves that this piece of collective writing was a ‘soul piece’, serving primarily as a platform for us to express our thoughts as we experienced the pandemic (in academia) together, but also separately (in our own households). We were academic colleagues brought closer by advocating for values that we all believed in. It was painful for all of us to acknowledge our ‘privileges’, even for the most disadvantaged amongst us, when we shared experiences and examined them with open-mindedness. Reflecting on the nearly three-year writing journey, we knew we would eventually wish to publish this work. While revealing possibly that we are all performance-oriented academics, we also believe it important to write in order to raise awareness of embodied experiences of vulnerability which, more often than not, go unheard of in neoliberal academic discourses (Boncori 2023). Publishing our writing was a conscious choice, but also deeply engrained in who we are becoming as academics ‘produced’ in/through the neoliberal system. Each of us gained more understanding of the other co-authors’ lives during the process (not in fine details, but rather in the essence of our work-life struggle), which made it much less stressful when we all struggled to meet internal writing deadlines. Admittedly, everything looks rosier in hindsight, but we all genuinely enjoyed writing this work which, unfortunately, we could not say for many of our other writing projects. Writing became not only indulging, but healing and educational during our caring collaboration processes. Our perspectives on life and work became broader and calmer as our research approached its final publication.

Concluding remarks

Furthering Gunn’s (2010) study, emphasizing the importance of being specifically attentive in this work, we step forward to propose a caring practice. As we approach the completion of this collective endeavor, we carry with us not only a meaningful piece of academic work but also the cherished memories of a caring collaboration that has enriched our lives beyond the pages of this academic paper. Such caring collaboration has brought us closer together as individuals and as academic partners. We have come to realize that caring for one another transcends the realm of mere academic output; it rather encompasses a genuine concern for each other’s well-being and the acknowledgement of our shared humanity (e.g. Plotnikof and Utoft 2022). The pandemic, with all its hardships, has taught us the importance of supporting each other, celebrating our successes, and offering compassion in times of struggle. Thus, in this work, we emphasize the promotion of a relational, embodied position, encouraging a feeling with and acceptance of the vulnerable moments and our differences amongst ourselves, rather than projecting our own viewpoint onto the other, often believed to be the basis for caring, collaborative relationships. Drawing on the work of Lawrence and Maitlis (2012), we suggest that care practice could give academics an ‘ontology of possibility’, comprising ‘collective agency’, ‘group potency’ and ‘transcendent hope’ (651–653). Academic and administrative staff collaborate in networked teams, having developed a long-term commitment to each other as the result of sustained daily practices premised on care ethics. It would require a nexus of care-ethic-centered individuals, in the mold of the ‘tempered radicals’ of Myerson and Scully (1995), with the moral courage (Simola 2015) to gently demonstrate to their colleagues a different way of teaching, writing and being. Stories would be co-constructed and retold of joint success; individual and team challenges would have external sources, strengthening collective agency and co-creating an open future of possibility (Lawrence and Maitlis 2012). The effect could smooth the peaks and troughs of life through recognizing that individuals can contribute differently at varying points throughout the life course (Gilmore et al. 2019). There might also be the potential to broaden inclusivity; people would be valued for their different and complementary strengths, allowing all to flourish and benefit from collective success and collaboration not only between academics but also between the management departments of academic institutions. In an attempt to broaden perspectives and add voices to the field, it has been suggested that good collaboration practices could include encouraging retrospective reflexive conversations, equitable participation, the recognition of diverse contributions and the incorporation of feminist values and ethics (e.g. Long et al. 2020).

This study contributes to reconfiguring HE cultures of excellence by offering a conceptualization of how care and relationality at work might help us, academics, stay in and destabilize the discourse of academic value and practices. Drawing on our experiences, we reiterate the importance of nurturing care in our relations with others to creatively transform the future/s of academic work. In practice, this process embodies slowness through sharing, connecting, learning and developing together, as well as creating affects which exercise responsiveness and connectedness, manifested in signs of care and trust between individuals (Satama 2021; ⁣Walker 2016). We suggest that care emerges amongst us, in these ‘vertical’ moments, countering the horizontal, chrononormative spectrum regulating neoliberal academia (Helin 2023). Understanding such collaborative ethnographic process as an experiment and experience of verticality and vertical writing contributes to the ongoing dialogue around ‘writing differently’, particularly within the emerging strand of ‘vertical writing’ (Helin 2023; Helin, Kostera, and Srednicka 2023). Vertical writing is characterized by its immediacy – it captures each moment as unique, devoid of a history or future (ibid). Each instance imposes itself wholly, seeking to make every academic encounter a moment of significance, devoid of a predetermind narrative. In these vertical moments, we slowly reflect upon ourselves, as a team of researchers, writers and intersectional women academics, recognizing how we have been enriched methodologically and emotionally by each other and the others inspiring our accounts (Satama 2021). We posit that in today’s busy lifestyle and fast-changing neoliberal business schools, individual scholars’ ambivalent emotions and struggles at/in work cannot and should not be ignored, and neither should their life outside of work. In practicing ‘vertical writing’, we tap into the emotional, fleshy, messy, and dirty aspects of individual experience (Helin 2023, 388), as it is not only about crafting and shaping, but also about hearing, seeing and feeling (Helin, Kostera, and Srednicka 2023) – an authentic expression of real-life experiences. This practice encourages us to embrace a spirit of ‘slowness’ and ‘accommodation’ (Boncori 2023), that ruptures in/at highly-skilled scholarly working life. These moments of rupture become opportunities for feminist care ethics to flourish, offering impetus for mobilizing meaningful change within academic cultures. Together, our aim is to reshape the discourse around academic value, emphasizing the importance of relationality, responsiveness and connectedness in the academic community. This transformative process extends beyond academics alone; it also requires the active involvement of management in fostering more supportive and sustainable academic cultures. As Boncori, Sicca, and Bizjak (2020) argue, HE institutions must strike a balance between economic efficiency and social responsibility. This requires managers and management teams to engage with alternative perspectives and to recognize the value of a relational approach to academic work. By doing so, management can work alongside academics to create more caring, supportive and sustainable academic cultures able to benefit all members of the institution and the wider community.

Drawing on our experience, we advocate for the recognition and prioritization of care, both for ourselves and in collaboration with others, as a vital counterforce to the prevailing normative and uncaring neoliberal culture. These small beginnings pave the way towards envisioning and creating better, different and hopefully larger futures for academia.

Acknowledgement

We would like to express our heartfelt appreciation to our dear friend Sue Richardson for her significant contribution to the early version of this paper. Sue's invaluable insights and wisdom greatly enriched the initial stages of our work.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Notes

1 Our group includes members from various career stages and geographical locations, adding depth and complexity to our discussions. One author relocated from the UK to China during the process of writing this article, which added an additional layer of complexity to our collaboration.