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Academic and Pedagogical Activism: Lets change what we can change

I feel some personal context should be provided as a preface to this rather long blog post…
…I chose an academic career path with a specific interest in activism (generally) not because ‘traditional’ protest action is defunct. Quite the opposite. As academics we have demonstrated that our passion for maintaining social justice, transparency, fairness, equality and employment rights, has not diminished. We displayed the collective nature of this passion several times in the past year, most recently through the involvement of over 70,000 staff from 150 universities across the country. As with a previous post, I stress that the thoughts contained here should not overshadow the issues we have raised, and will continue to raise, simultaneously through ongoing industrial action.
As a rather ‘average’ student when it came to attainment prior to starting my undergraduate degree, what shaped my passion for Criminology and my future career path was a combination of the interdisciplinary nature of the subject, but also the incredible student experience that I felt distinguished higher education from the boring, mundane, and out-of-touch schooling system in the UK; a system that often placed more emphasis on the reputation of the institution than the mental welfare of their pupils [I hasten to add, with the exception of my second sixth-form, which has a special place in my heart]. My student experience at university was characterised by a transparent, respectful, and crucially non-hierarchical form of learning. You felt like an adult, on the same level as others around you as well as the teaching team, and that there was nothing you were passionate about that you couldn’t reasonably pursue.
Over the years, however, I have become quite disappointed from seeing sheer refusal in some circles to even consider the student experience as playing a part of university life – the attitude of “they are not here to have a good time, they are here to learn”, which often brings back a lot of pent-up trauma from my schooling days; pigeonholing human beings into pre-characterised slots decided only by a handful of people, obsession with the quantification of success rather than provision of engagement, and an unwillingness to acknowledge uniqueness, neurodiversity, or simply that there were differences between individuals, some potentially requiring more attention.
Having since taught in several universities at varying levels, in starkly different spaces, and with students from an array of unique backgrounds, skills, talents and abilities, I have come to the realisation that these traditional schooling principles that previously governed higher education will always fail to gain traction or support in the contemporary world; from students, and from those academics who have thrived in progressive teaching & learning environments, where they would have failed if traditional practices had been employed. I have also reflected deeply on things that we can change as academics; things that are reliant on choice, and that transgress the traditional boundaries of strike action. Academic development is much more than research ‘impact scores’ or quantification of published texts/articles. It is a holistic process. Challenging dominant hegemony and helping to reinforce social justice is simply not possible without shifts at grassroots level; by actively being the change that we want to see. It is a process that requires active participation from all, rather than a dominant minority.
Interdisciplinary Collaboration
While we are, first and foremost, criminologists, we are also more broadly social scientists. Despite some rather outdated beliefs that the discipline should only focus on “studying crime”, criminology is (and always will be) fundamentally an interdisciplinary subject, encompassing fields of sociology, psychology, legal studies, anthropology and philosophy…to name a few. We always ‘study crime’ in some sense, but this does require the level of fixation with denounced theoretical perspectives that have been historically used as a guise for genocide and ethnic cleansing under the banner of racial purity…but a much heavier focus on reframing the theoretical grounding of criminology to debates within the present – the here and now. As a descendant of genocide survivors from both sides of my family, even the thought of teaching students the nuanced intricacies of strategies and tactics that were used to justify murdering people (like my great-grandparents and their relatives) is unconceivable. Of course, it is important to know the past to learn from it, and to avoid a repeat of the atrocities we have seen in human history, but in such detail? What is being presented to the world as the core of criminological theory by elevating these intricate ideas onto the criminology pedestal of fame?
Our approach to knowledge production should therefore be free from isolation solely to our discipline or institution. Our only allegiance is to the production of this knowledge…knowledge that we are profoundly passionate about, irrespective of its spatial dimensions. Institutions should therefore be facilitators of this knowledge; breeding creativity to roam free from isolation beyond the dominant disciplinary interest, allowing all to extend friendly hands for research collaboration with others who may well disagree with our theoretical positions, encouraging learning from others’ experiences that are different from our own. In doing so, we can avoid the suppression of certain academic texts from entering our curricula under a variety of guises; freeing academia from research isolation into being able to engage with researchers or work that may be useful for personal academic or pedagogical development. To ensure that we are able to successfully advance academic knowledge, but also gain the type of research experience that will serve us positively in our future lives with enhanced research portfolios, we need to rethink our own positionalities in relation to collaborating with other academics and institutions that may differ from our own. It is possible that much of these struggles can be unconscious and rooted in understandable past struggles, bad experiences that have led to mistrust or a sense of hopelessness, but there is no better time to latch onto optimism than the present moment. After all, what are we without hope?
As social creatures, we must venture outwards and embrace the flux of knowledge and healthy collaboration. In a contemporary globalised world, we are intertwined with the social, political, economic and cultural negotiations of our own identities as academics, alongside being ongoing students of the social sciences. As such, aside from the issues to which we aim to draw attention through industrial action, we must reflect on whether we truly practice what we preach. Without this, we are doomed to being perceived simply as moaners from beyond, rather than creators of change from within. Speaking from experience of witnessing the long-term effects of this kind of mismatch between what is preached and what is practiced, in many institutions this is commonplace and, unless care is taken, it can often become problematic. It can both confuse students’ understanding of how their lecturing teams position themselves in relation to what they are teaching, but also affect the academic staff that may well have alternative theoretical or pedagogical views to the dominant narrative.
Co-Creation and Student Participation
In the interests of maintaining healthy staff retention within institutions generally, but within social scientific disciplines specifically, proper care must be taken to ensure that suggestions for co-creation are actively encouraged. Calls for genuine co-creation of curricula, of strategies to shape equality, diversity or inclusion (EDI) strategies, and anti-racist pedagogical practices can otherwise end up either sidelined, ignored, or simply dominated by only a few voices claiming to know it all. Care must be taken to ensure that, in the interests of maintaining healthy communication and morale more broadly, decisions are not made by a dominant few in advance of consultation processes for these things. Genuine co-creation requires:
- Provision of a truly open forum where anything can be discussed without fear or reprisal;
- Entering the space with a wholly open mind where anything is subject to change;
- Full acknowledgement of one’s personal unconscious biases;
- Acceptance of one’s own intersectional privileges that influence their ideas, but that also disadvantage others’ positions;
- Active participation from all members in the forum;
- Recognition that decisions cannot be made prior to the forum, but that improvement is an ongoing process, requiring regular collaboration, rather than enactment of decisions made separately.
As an ongoing process, this is merely a starting point, rather than an end point.
Academics and students are an integral part of this co-creative practice; pedagogical knowledge requires, rather than desires, student contribution. That does not mean this process is easy. It can be difficult, particularly if student attendance or engagement with teaching & learning sessions is low. However, there is no conceivable reason to suggest that we cannot promote continuous, critical, self-reflection of teaching & learning practices, which are known to have a largely positive impact on academic development, albeit with a small number of students if so be it. After all, as social scientists we quite rightly regularly and vocally criticise bureaucratic processes that aim to ‘measure’ success of actions and events, or try to ‘quantify’ experiences and social interactions. Therefore, we should dwell less on numbers in attendance or vague interpretations of ‘popularity’ of sessions, and more on the quality of these interactions. It is the quality that builds engagement, paving the stepping stones for positive student and staff experience at university level.
Innovative Assessment Strategies
A rather different way that student experience of university study can be improved is by revisiting the appropriateness of ‘traditional’, but largely pedagogically defunct, assessments like exams and in-class tests. If we are to be vocally critical of contemporary school-style practices that do not prepare students for higher education, we cannot in good conscience then replicate the same practices that fixate on teaching students simply how to memorise concepts, ideas or authors for one day of regurgitation. Add to this the stresses associated with preparation, time pressures and performance anxiety on the day, and we are left with an assessment style that no longer matches our developing approaches in tackling mental health in higher education. Exams in contemporary society can only serve as a means of boosting grades at the expense of progressive learning styles. It is an example of pandering to bad pedagogical practice simply to give a perception of success, one that once again relies on quantification as a measure of achievement. In eliminating these types of assessments, we can make room for more innovative and progressive styles that can prepare students for the future of employment (whether physical or digital); communicative, collaborative, and largely reflective tasks that make use of technological advancement and help to build on students’ existing skills and talents.
Innovative assessment styles can be inclusive of developing technologies and increasing student involvement in social media platforms. Why fight the craze of video-based platforms when they can be used to the advantage of academic development and employability? In modules that focus on developing knowledge and understanding of research methods (for instance), we can introduce students to increasingly digital methodologies. This will allow them individual autonomy to adopt methods that may well involve contemporary technological platforms or practices, not only shifting criminology away from the mundaneness of what has already been ‘done to death’ (in the worlds of a former academic supervisor), but can also serve as a physical demonstration that the synergy of ‘theory’ and ‘methodology’ does not have to be outdated or out-of-touch…that it can be applied anywhere and in any context provided it is applied in the correct fashion. It is up to our array of skill and talent as experienced academics to enable and facilitate students to be able to apply innovation to their passions.
Linked closely to this are in approaches of establishing the ethical integrity of written work, particularly large-scale projects like dissertations. While not to go into a debate about the appropriateness of written dissertations at this stage, care must be taken to ensure that research ethics committees do not conflate genuine ethical concerns or considerations with what may be personal methodological preferences relating to knowledge production and research feasibility – though this is something that can be tackled through establishing full transparency of the entire ethics process with students, including their entitlement to know who has commented on their work. Often, these challenges can be alleviated simply by reducing dependence on “in-house” disciplinary ethics committees and allowing students to submit their projects to independent ethics committees instead, ones external to their immediate discipline perhaps. After all, there are parallels across the social sciences when it comes to methodology and employment of innovative research methods. A ‘fresh’ pair of eyes can help to provide more objective commentary and avoid potential overlaps between ethical concerns and methodological preferences.
Student Engagement and Student Experience
Essential to facilitating students’ innovative passions are the relationships that we, as academics, build with them. Whatever our teaching & learning styles, whether we choose to create physical, digital or hybrid learning environments, synchronous or asynchronous content (or a combination of everything), fundamentally we should be building a positive, personable, non-hierarchical and entirely transparent rapport with students that breeds autonomy and individual responsibility for learning & development. This means also avoiding any overlaps between what is clear university policy with what we as academics simply ‘want’ or ‘desire’ when it comes to everyday teaching practices – this can sometimes create confusion. Transparency on what students are entitled to do, and conversely what they are perfectly entitled not to do, should be at the forefront of our relationship with them, but also this transparency needs to apply at all levels.
We also know that non-hierarchical relationships have a direct positive correlation with exercising individual autonomy and responsibility. Of course, some clear boundaries must be set in the academic-student relationship, as are done in all places of employment, within reason and common sense. However, where these boundaries become unnecessary and lack logical purpose are when (as I have seen in some academic institutions) they are used to create and maintain a hierarchy of knowledge or status. This is often evident when it is claimed that the path of the academic has been so riddled with difficulty, that the rite of passage to academic status is determined by the level of “trauma” the academic has suffered throughout the journey. It is a ludicrous presumption and can often breed animosity between a student and their lecturer. Our relationships do not need to be parental; whatever personal views we may have of student maturity, as adults, they simply do not require micromanaging or undermining. Students should be aware of the intricacies of their institutions, and who the people are that make decisions on their futures (i.e. their lecturers). As all adults, they are minimally entitled to this level of transparency and visibility.
Students are no less able or capable of producing knowledge – it may not be the type of knowledge that we may have become ‘accustomed to’ within academia, but…absent any methodological or ethical issues…this does not render the knowledge somehow less worthy than what is created in more (arguably) ‘elite’ academic circles (as is sometimes suggested). Our approach to gaining mutual trust and building a positive rapport with students is a crucial first step to ensuring that there is at least a minimal level of engagement. I find that one of the first things I communicate to students, particularly those who have recently commenced their studies, is ‘realistically-speaking, there is no difference between you and me. We are all humans. We are all academic researchers. We are all here for the same purpose; to learn about criminology. My only job is to facilitate your learning’. Of course, this means that students should demonstrate the depth and breadth of independent research required at this level of study – the common mantra still applies; “you get out of education what you put into it”. Though somewhere along the line, and it is unclear when or where, academics seem to have created for themselves a status of unchallenged godliness, one that can only be earned through mental distress. Being an academic is not a status for privilege. It should not be used as a form of power over student bodies; whether physically, psychologically, or pedagogically. It is simply a stage in a process of knowledge production.
At pedagogical level, the most common sticking point that can obstruct the relationship between students and academic staff, as observed in some places, is one of class. It is not always articulated, but it is clearly visible in interactions (or lack thereof) with students. Class is not merely economic status but a culmination of various capitals; social and cultural capital included. We know, for instance, that many students come from low socio-economic backgrounds; working-class homes, single-parent families and/or other challenging life experiences. As with most in neoliberal nations, many have their own struggles and unique stories, lives that we may never be privy to, that can shape behaviours or characters that we may never truly understand. As an institution and a team, we do well to acknowledge this. We take some steps, and do our best as academics, to try to mitigate some of these struggles wherever possible. However, this is an ongoing process and more can be done at varying levels.
For instance, we are aware that given varying degrees of cultural capital, many students will not engage with certain academic texts. This is not to say that the solution to this is to remove theory from our curricula – criminology is fundamentally a theoretical discipline – but there can be at least an appreciation that some texts require a certain degree of cultural capital that may never have been possible to attain throughout the struggles that students have experienced in their lives…regardless of their performance in, or experience of, prior education. Perhaps a rethink is needed of the elitist and white-centric nature of some texts, and/or the methods through which students are introduced to theoretical material might be useful, without the need to suggest that being a successful student is solely reliant on never leaving a library. This ties in closely with aforementioned innovative strategies to engage students, ways that transgress boundaries imposed by ‘traditional academia’ of talking at students, instead allowing them to be the co-creators of their own academic knowledge.
Academic Anti-Racism & Intersectionality
Tied to this are some issues surrounding social (in)justice. There needs to be an adequate level of acknowledgement of the requirement of truly anti-racist pedagogical practices and content. As a critical criminologist and anti-racist activist, it is no surprise that these practices are, and will always, be at the forefront of everyday decisions I make – not least because I was employed on the basis of my research and pedagogical interests in anti-racism. I often make the point that certain buzz words like ‘anti-racism’ and ‘decolonising the curriculum’ are banded about without adequate understanding of what these involve. Whilst we may all potentially agree that this is the case (or perhaps not, this is down to every individual), there is still a gap in knowledge and understanding even on the part of those who do agree with this statement…hence there being a decisive unwillingness to engage in any practices that carry the label of ‘anti-racism’ or ‘decolonising’ across universities. What is being missed is the purpose of these practices. Far from simply being non-racist, anti-racism is an everyday tool that can and must be exercised in all aspects of daily work life within academic institutions.
Much of the challenges of understanding what anti-racism really means, or how it can be utilised to improve teaching & learning, stems from a reluctance to acknowledge our own unconscious biases. Where, as social scientists, we often teach about intersectional struggles and the presence of global social injustice, we tend to overlook the fact that our everyday choices can contribute towards those exact injustices. Ongoing reflection on what texts are introduced to students can help alleviate some of these. Texts should prove to be more inclusive, demonstrate our commitment to shift away from white-centric understandings of crime and criminality, and demonstrate best practice when it comes to the use of appropriate discourse when it comes to ‘race’, so that students do not regularly replicate questionable racial terminology in assessments, and potentially also in later life. Yes, deeply ingrained structural racism across society (and in academia in general) means that many of the “legitimised” academic texts tend to be produced in, or relate to, the US and other Western nations. However, care must be taken to ensure that we are not inadvertently engaging in academic nationalism by restricting students to utilise texts that only refer to England & Wales, for instance.
Changing what we can change
So…given the challenges that have led to unified industrial action in universities across the country, where can we as individual academics start, or how can we contribute towards this? Well, it is important to note that there is nothing that we are required to do as academics that actually makes any of this less possible. It is simply a case of substituting existing practices with others that make more sense and breed positivity; a shift of expectations and priorities, rather than additions to pre-existing ones. It is easy to agree with many of these challenges, but to then find a variety of reasons for why changes cannot be enacted in the way that they should. We know there are unique differences across institutions, and there will be challenges associated with some spaces that are not found in others. But there cannot be a refusal to even try, or to allow others to try, in learning from good practice from institutions which have actually succeeded in bringing positive changes into fruition.
As is evident from student engagement, hierarchical practices of imposition can fail if it is not passionately supported by everyone in the room, particularly where these cannot be questioned. As academics, we quite rightly expect respect for individual autonomy, a dissolution of micromanagerialism across academia, and non-hierarchical forms of leadership. These are good starting points in ensuring that there is healthy staff retention and morale at all levels, so that this positivity can then be reflected in our relationships with students. The only imposition can be the imposition of consistent care and respect for one another. We are all human beings with aforementioned unique diversity of skills, talents, experiences, cultural sensitivities, all of which form our distinctive intersectional identities. Maintaining an optimum level of student engagement & experience, and successful staff retention, requires celebrating these differences in ways that allow them to shine in our everyday working practices. It is in the interests all within our institution that we offer this kind of diversity in our ranks. This is not always found in other walks of life.
This is what sets us apart, and this is what gives us ‘status’.
When This is Over: Reflections on an Unequal Pandemic
This week a book was released which I both co-edited and contributed to and which has been two years in the making. When This is Over: Reflections on an Unequal Pandemic is a volume combining a range of accounts from artists to poets, practitioners to academics. Our initial aim of the book was borne out of a need for commemoration but we cannot begin to address this without considering inequalities throughout the pandemic.
Each of the four editors had both personal and professional reasons for starting the project. I – like many – was (and still is) deeply affected by the COVID-19 pandemic. When we first went into lockdown, we were shown the data every day, telling us the numbers of people who had the virus and of those who had died with COVID-19. Behind these numbers, I saw each and every person. I thought about their loved ones left behind, how many of them died alone without being able to say goodbye other than through a video screen. I thought about what happened to the bodies afterwards, how death rites would be impacted and how the bereaved would cope without hugs and face to face social support. Then my grandmother died. She had overcome COVID-19 in the way that she was testing negative. But I heard her lungs on the day she died. I know. And so, I became even more consumed with questions of the COVID-19 dead, with/of debates. I was angry at the narratives surrounding the disposability of people’s lives, at people telling me ‘she had a good innings’. It was personal now.
I now understood the impact of not being able to hug my grandpa at my grandmother’s funeral, and how ‘normal’ cultural practices surrounding death were disturbed. My grandmother loved singing in choirs and one of the traumatic parts of our bereavement was not being able to sing at her funeral as she would have wanted and how we wanted to remember her. Lucy Easthope, a disaster planner and one of my co-authors speaks of her frustrations in this regard:
“we’ve done something incredibly traumatising to the families that is potentially bigger than the bereavement itself. In any disaster you should still allow people to see the dead. It is a gross inhumanity of bad planning that people couldn’t’t visit the sick, view the deceased’s bodies, or attend funerals. Had we had a more liberal PPE stockpile we could have done this. PPE is about accessing your loved ones and dead ones, it is not just about medical professionals.”
The book is divided into five parts, each addressing a different theme all of which I argue are relevant to criminologists and each part including personal, professional, and artistic reflections of the themes. Part 1 considered racialised, classed, and gendered identities which impacted on inequality throughout the pandemic, asking if we really are in this together? In this section former children’s laureate Michael Rosen draws from his experience of having COVID-19 and being hospitalised in intensive care for 48 days. He writes about disposability and eugenics-style narratives of herd immunity, highlighting the contrast between such discourse and the way he was treated in the NHS: with great care and like any other patient.

The second part of the book considers how already existing inequalities have been intensified throughout the pandemic in policing, law and immigration. Our very own @paulsquaredd contributed a chapter on the policing of protests during the pandemic, drawing on race in the Black Lives Matter protests and gender in relation to Sarah Everard. As my colleagues and students might expect, I wrote about the treatment of asylum seekers during the initial lockdown periods with a focus on the shift from secure and safe self-contained housing to accommodating people seeking safety in hotels.
Part three considers what happens to the dead in a pandemic and draws heavily on the experiences of crematoria and funerary workers and how they cared for the dead in such difficult circumstances. This part of the book sheds light on some of the forgotten essential workers during the pandemic. During lockdown, we clapped for NHS workers, empathised with supermarket workers and applauded other visible workers but there were many less visible people doing valuable unseen work such as caring for the dead. When it comes to death society often thinks of those who cared for them when they were alive and the bereaved who were left to the exclusion of those who look after the body. The section provides some insight into these experiences.
Moving through the journey of life and death in a pandemic, the fourth section focusses on questions of commemoration, a process which is both personal and political. At the heart of commemorating the COVID-19 dead in the UK is the National COVID Memorial Wall, situated facing parliament and sat below St Thomas’ hospital. In a poignant and political physical space, the unofficial wall cared for by bereaved family members such as Fran Hall recognises and remembers the COVID dead. If you haven’t visited the wall yet, there will be a candlelit vigil walk next Wednesday, 29th March at 7pm and those readers who live further afield can digitally walk the wall here, listening to the stories of bereaved family members as you navigate the 150,837 painted hearts.

The final part of the book both reflects on the mistakes made and looks forward to what comes next. Can we do better in the next pandemic? Emergency planner Matt Hogan presents a critical view on the handling of the pandemic, returning to the refrain, ‘emergency planning is dead. Long live emergency planning’. Lucy Easthope is equally critical, developing what she has discussed in her book When the Dust Settles to consider how and what lessons we can learn from the management of the pandemic. Lucy calls out for activism, concluding with calls to ‘Give them hell’ and ‘to shout a little louder’.
Concluding in his afterword, Gary Younge suggests this is ‘teachable moment’, but will we learn?
When This is Over: Reflections on an Unequal Pandemic is published by Policy Press, an imprint of Bristol University Press. The book can be purchased directly from the publisher who offer a 25% discount when subscribing. It can also be purchased from all good book shops and Amazon.
Meet the Team: Paul Famosaya, Lecturer in Criminology

Hi all! My name is Dr Paul Famosaya and I have just joined UoN as a Lecturer in criminology. Prior to joining UoN, I have taught as a Lecturer in criminology and policing at the University of Cumbria – where I contributed to the development and running of modules at both Undergraduate and Masters level. In addition, I have taught criminology at Middlesex University, London as an HP Lecturer (during my PhD days). So, over the years really, I have developed and taught a variety of modules around the theories of crime, the crimes of the powerful, global dimensions of crime, policing, new ideas in criminology, crimes & deviance, social exclusion, criminological frameworks etc. I also serve as a reviewer of a few international reputable journals.
In terms of my academic background, I completed my undergraduate degree in Nigeria, 2010 and then went straight on to complete my Masters in Criminology at Middlesex University, London. I then dived straight in to my PhD, which I completed also at Middlesex in 2019 – with my thesis focusing on police experiences, actions and practices.
I came into the world of Criminology simply for my interest in understanding the logic of corruption and the network of greed. I realised that these two components are largely the foundational problems of my home country Nigeria, and many other countries. So, the plight to unravel these dynamics from both institutional and personal level triggered my interest in the discipline. To a large extent, this interest has continued to strengthen my area of specialisation which concentrates largely on the areas of Critical and Theoretical criminology, Police culture, Social harms and Injustice. Criminology is something I’ve really enjoyed doing and while I have taught it for many years, I still consider myself to be a student of Criminology really.
I am currently completing another article on pandemics and criminology – so it’ll be cool to chat with colleagues looking at similar area(s). Looking forward to meeting everyone soon!
UCU Strike 21-25 March 2022
More information around the University and College University [UCU] and the Four Fights Dispute can be found here.
Information about the Northampton branch of UCU can be found here and here.
You can also find out why striking is a criminological issue here: https://thoughtsfromthecriminologyteam.blog/2021/12/10/striking-is-a-criminological-matter/ and here: https://thoughtsfromthecriminologyteam.blog/2022/02/18/united-nations-un-world-day-of-social-justice/
If you want to know why the Criminology Team is prepared to stand outside in the cold and rain please read here: https://thoughtsfromthecriminologyteam.blog/2022/03/02/higher-education-the-strikes-and-me/ and here: https://thoughtsfromthecriminologyteam.blog/2022/03/09/higher-education-students-the-strikes-and-me/

Higher education, students, the strikes and me*

It was somewhat disappointing to read some of the comments purportedly from a university student in our local newspaper the other week. Critical of the current UCU industrial action and its impact on students, the student suggested that lecturers knew what they were signing up for and should just get on with it. I found it interesting and somewhat incongruent with what the national student union stance is (actually, I was livid). I know there has been a response to the article from the local union representative and other comments perhaps suggesting that my previous blog should be read (I wouldn’t think anyone in their right mind would have signed up for what I described). But just to be clear, I signed (or my union did on my behalf) a contract that states I am required to work 37 hours a week with the occasional evening or weekend work and that the normal working week is Monday to Friday. I take the meaning of ‘occasional’ as the definition found in the English dictionary (take your pick as to which one you’d like to use), which is not ‘permanently’ or ‘all of the time’ or ‘ad infinitum’. I can only speak for myself and not for my colleagues, but I don’t mind working a little longer at times and working the weekend to do marking or open days, but I didn’t sign up to be working all of the time. So, for me the industrial action is not just about my working conditions but about a contract, a legal obligation, which I am fulfilling but my employer seems to suggest that I am not because I am not working far in excess of my contracted hours. That to me, is illogical.
I remember a discussion where a senior manager stated that bullying included giving someone excessive workloads. I wonder whether that means that most lecturers are being bullied by management, isn’t there a policy against that? And then I seem to recall that there is some legislation against inequality, would that not include paying lower wages to women, disabled staff and people from minority ethnic groups? Systemic bullying and discrimination, not a pretty picture in higher education.
But perhaps the most important point is that as lecturers we don’t want to impact our student’s education, and this shouldn’t be about us versus the students. It’s what management would like because it detracts from so many issues that plague our higher education system. Students should quite rightly be unhappy with their lot. A system that plunges students into a lifetime of debt that they will rarely if ever be able to repay and at the same time lines the pockets of private companies seems to me to be immoral. A system that requires students to pay extortionate fees for accommodation is completely bonkers especially when it means the less affluent students have to work to afford to live. A system that requires students to study for approximately 46 hours per week in semester time (If we accept that they are entitled to holiday time) seems overly punitive. Couple this with the need to work to afford to live and it becomes unsustainable. Add to that any caring responsibilities or anything else that complicates their lives, and it starts to look impossible. I and my colleagues are not really surprised that so many fail to properly engage, if at all, and that there are so many stressed students and students with mental health issues. Of course, if we add to that individual capabilities, think unconditional offers and low school grades and let’s be honest widening participation becomes simply a euphemism for widening deBt, misery and, more importantly establishment profit.
The students were on strike for one day the other week, someone asked me why, well I rest my case. Whilst I understand student anger about the strikes, that anger is directed at the wrong people. We all signed up for something different and it’s simply not being delivered.
*The first part of this entry can be found here.
A Love Letter: in praise of the blog

This is my fourth “love letter”, it follows on from personal dedications to art, poetry and the writing of Agatha Christie. This one is the newest of my “loves” and also marks a celebration.
Yesterday marked the 5th birthday of the Thoughts From the Criminology Team blog. I’ve documented our history before, so don’t want to go over the same ground. However, it is worth mentioning that very soon we will have reached over 50,000 views across 129 countries. (Interesting fact, after the UK and the USA, our next biggest group of readers is based in Hong Kong). We’ve come a very long way from our first cautious forays into the blogsphere and today I want to celebrate the things that I love most about our blog.
First, it provides accountability, it means that even in the most difficult times when writers’ block hits, I have to write. It may not be my best writing, at times it is very loosely structured and when I look back I do wonder what was in my mind. Nevertheless, something was written, which means that something else can be written. It means my ideas are captured and can be explored further, combined with other ideas or even abandoned. Over time it has also enabled me to see what reoccurs enabling me to develop my academic and personal passions.
Second, it provides a refuge and solace for writers (and hopefully readers). This was most obvious during the first year of the Covid-19 pandemic when we were rapidly releasing entries, sometimes on a daily basis. In total in 2020, the blog published 222 separate entries containing 190,226 words. To put that into context, in an “ordinary” year, we generally manage around 90 entries a year. It is fair to say our bloggers have explored this unprecedented time in many different way. This place of refuge and solace has also been very apparent in entries centred on Black Lives Matter. Most recently in can be observed in entries around the recent UCU industrial action, see here, here, here. here and here.*
In August 2011, following soon after the police shooting of Mark Duggan, riots broke out in many of our inner cities. I desperately wanted to discuss what was happening with my colleagues and students, but alas it was peak summer and everyone was away. This brings me to my third point, the blog allows writers to respond quickly to events happening, both in the UK and globally, in a way that isn’t always possible in the classroom (timing, constraints of the timetable and curriculum). For instance, responses to the sexual allegations against Prince Andrew, the Windrush scandal, the murder of George Floyd, and Russia’s invasion of Ukraine to name but a few. It also allows us to take part in national and global initiatives such as Gypsy Roma Traveller History Month and Amplify Melanated Voices giving more space to those too often excluded.
Fourth, it allows writers to focus on issues that are very close to them. For instance, the Hillsborough and Grenfell disasters and Black history. These are extremely difficult to address in a single blog entry, hence they are discussed by a variety of different authors approaching them in diverse ways. What is more important than answers is the space to explore these issues, without censorship and with room for others to also contribute an alternative perspective.
Fifth, the blog provides a place to showcase student and graduate excellence outside of institutional paremeters. For example our now annual ‘First Week Activity‘ offers the opportunity for students to work together to create posters on very current issues. in 2020/21 the criminological issues discussed were Knife Crime, Policing Protest and Creating Covid Criminals and our students demonstrated their criminological knowledge and understanding to a very high standard. The blog also provide a space for our newest (or soon to be) graduates to write about their dissertations as well as students and graduates to write about the things that excite their criminological imagination.
Sixth, it provides space for debate, discussion and most importantly, disagreement. A beautiful example of this is the two entries focusing on policing and racism, here and here. Similarly, discussions around misogyny, femicide and the murders of Sarah Everard and so many other women, here, here and here. Only through thoughtful and empathetic dialogue and exposure to different standpoints can we hope to gain the holistic understanding so imperative to criminology.
Seventh, there are no rules around blog writing, only the constraints provided by the medium. Those that write for the blog are provided with very generic guidance to allow them to decide how best to explore their subject, maybe through a short essay, complete with references, maybe in the style of a news article with lots of images, or perhaps through poetry. The choice is down to the individual blogger and very little in the way of copy editing, beyond the occasional correction of typo goes on behind the scenes.
By now it should be clear that my love for the blog is strong and unwavering. From the smallest of ideas, the blog has grown into something beautiful and inspiring, beyond my imagination in 2017. It has attracted a wonderful collective of very different people coming from all different standpoints and perspectives. Equally important there is space for many more voices to contribute. For sure, there is plenty more we can do, to provide space for more subjects, more bloggers, more perspectives, more initiatives and we will keep striving to offer this. Nevertheless, I am incredibly proud to have played a part and to continue to be involved in this joint enterprise as partners in criminology. Our blog is definitely something worth celebrating and not just on its birthday. To my fellow bloggers, I raise a glass, may we never lose the desire to argue, debate, discuss and continue to learn from each other.

*It is worth noting that in discussions around what constituted Action Short of a Strike [ASOS], the Criminology Team decided that the blog was too important to each of us to consider abandoning it, even for a short period time while industrial action is ongoing.
Higher education, the strikes and me

I joined the UCU last year, the first time I’d ever been a member of a union in my 43 years of working life. Admittedly, thirty years of that working life was spent in policing where membership of a union was unlawful. Yes, there was the Police Federation but to be honest it was a bit of a toothless tiger. During my career I saw successive governments hack away at pay and conditions in policing, sometimes only to be halted from catastrophic changes when they thought there might be an all-out mutiny, an example of which was the reaction to the Sheehy Inquiry in the early 1990s. In that policing career I was called upon to be involved in policing of pickets, sometimes peaceful, sometimes not. I never thought about joining a union or being part of a picket and when I started a second career in Higher Education, I didn’t think about it then. But my experiences in higher education over the last few years has driven me to join a union, mismanagement in various guises, has driven me to join.
I thought it somewhat ironic when I first saw the UCU posters declaring ‘we are at breaking point’; too late I thought, I’ve already been broken, and whilst I may have recovered, the scars are still there. Thirty years of policing, with all the horrors, the stresses and the strains didn’t break me, but 7 years of higher education managed to do so.

A couple of years ago, having been ill, resulting a short stay in hospital, I found myself on a farcical fast track of phased return to work. I managed to get back to some form of normality with the help of my colleagues, who took the brunt of my workload; I will return to that later. The new normality was however short lived, Covid hit, and we all went into lockdown and teaching online. It seemed that we might weather the storm and later the same year, amidst reported complaints from students about lockdowns, teaching online and mental health, our institution like nearly every other university in the country vowed there would be face-to-face teaching. And of course, if you promise it, you have to deliver it, particularly if you are under pressure from national student bodies about refunds and the like. As Covid took hold in earnest, as reports came in about people dying in the thousands, as the proliferation of news suggested who were the most vulnerable, and as we saw 50% of our team leave to join other institutions, our managers continued to insist that we do face to face teaching. Three members of staff could work 5 days a week, teaching over 250 students. The maths was confounding, the incredibility of it all was only surpassed by the staggering management determination to ensure that at least 2 hours of face-to-face teaching took place. The breath-taking simple-mindedness saw suggestions of cramming students, 40 at time into hired, poorly ventilated, venues. The risks were quite simply ignored, government guidelines were side-lined as were the university’s promises of a Covid secure environment. It was apparent, nobody cared; all that mattered was delivery of 2 hours of face-to-face teaching. The university had decreed it and so it had to be done.
If that wasn’t bad enough, our team had to endure machinations around how many new staff to advertise for. Three had left to be replaced by two because of the uncertainty around student recruitment. Even when we had ridden the wave of Covid, if we survived it unscathed, we were to be worked to the bone. The fifty to sixty odd hours a week would have to be increased. Nobody cared, just do what you are told and get on with it. Make use of associate lecturers, we were told, when we had very few and they were threatening to leave. Recruit more, from where we asked and what about their training? Such trivial matters were met with stony silence, face to face teaching, that was the mantra.
I remember one meeting, my colleagues will tell you about one meeting, where enough was enough. I was done and I couldn’t do anymore, I didn’t argue, I didn’t get cross, I just stopped, numbed by the sheer callousness and stupidity of it all. Signed off sick with work related stress I was told I was mentally burnt out. I was asked whether I ever switched off from work, the answer was no. Not because I didn’t want to, of course I did. But with lectures to prepare and deliver, with modules to manage, with Blackboard sites to build, with expectations of visiting schools and working open days, with expectations of helping with validations, with the incessant marking and second marking with dissertation tutorials and personal academic tutorship and the myriad of other tasks, I couldn’t switch off. Working evenings and weekends to keep up has been the norm, working even harder to buy space to take annual leave became unmanageable. Hollow words from management suggesting we have to take our annual leave. Hollow because they do not give you the time to do it. An extra closed day was the reward for our hard work, thank you, I worked that day as well. And after my absence from work, another attempt at fast tracking my phased return. And a return to full time work just meant a continuation of the fifty hours plus working week. My colleagues took a lot of work, too much work, to try to help manage workloads. So not just a return to challenging workloads for me but a guilt trip as well, as I felt I hadn’t been pulling my weight. On the one hand the institution makes the right noises, Covid safe environments and occupational health assistance and on the other its managers give scant regard for the human beings that work for them. Utilising outdated and unfathomable workload management tools, they manipulate data to provide a thin veneer of logic and fairness. If ever there were a good example of neo-Taylorism, look no further than higher education.
I’ve been on strike because of what happened to me and because of what is happening to my colleagues across the country. A failure to acknowledge working conditions, a failure to treat staff with dignity and respect and a failure to provide equal opportunity shows how little managers care for higher education vis-a-vis profit. I’ve been on strike because I don’t want my colleagues to be burnt out. I’ve been on strike because I don’t know how else to try to change the future for those that work in higher education. I don’t want to strike, I don’t want to impact my student’s education, but my colleagues are at breaking point, what else should we do?
UCU Strike 28 February-2 March 2022

More information around the University and College University [UCU] and the Four Fights Dispute can be found here.
Information about the Northampton branch of UCU can be found here and here.
You can also find out why striking is a criminological issue here: https://thoughtsfromthecriminologyteam.blog/2021/12/10/striking-is-a-criminological-matter/ and here: https://thoughtsfromthecriminologyteam.blog/2022/02/18/united-nations-un-world-day-of-social-justice/
UCU Strike 21-22 January 2022

More information around the University and College University [UCU] and the Four Fights Dispute can be found here.
Information about the Northampton branch of UCU can be found here and here.
You can also find out why striking is a criminological issue here: https://thoughtsfromthecriminologyteam.blog/2021/12/10/striking-is-a-criminological-matter/ and here: https://thoughtsfromthecriminologyteam.blog/2022/02/18/united-nations-un-world-day-of-social-justice/