THE PUBLICATION
CULTURE
Richard
Holmes
University
culture is, for most faculty members, formed primarily by the pressure
to
publish. It is a publication culture. Although lip service is paid to
"good teaching", what is measured as good teaching is
faculty members' popularity with their
students and then we pretend it is the same thing. Good teaching is one
way to
be popular with students, but there are
other easier ways, and it would require a saint to take no
advantage of
those easier ways in order to influence the survey results. Faculty
members
have many good qualities but saintliness is not one of them. The result
is that
our measures of good teaching fail to discriminate properly. This is
generally
understood (if not admitted) so that "good teaching" ratings have
very little bearing on most of the deliberations of most promotion and
tenure
committees. What is all-important in most of those deliberations is the
publication record of the faculty member.
The
emphasis on publication has the good effect of stimulating research
output by
university faculty which is a very important benefit for the university
and for
the sponsoring society. However, there are some costs implicit in this
publication culture, as it now exists.
One
of those costs
is
that faculty members become reluctant
(and sometimes adamantly refuse) to take
on important committee assignments. Not
only is the time spent (sometimes very substantial time spent) on those
committee assignments not rewarded in tenure, promotion and salary
decisions,
but it actually results in a penalty to the faculty member because of
the fewer
resulting publications. Faculty members who pay this price once,
quickly learn
that if you wish to promote your own career, then you refuse all
time-consuming
committee assignments and spend all of your
time on academic publications.
This
disincentive to take on important committee assignments is a cost of our publication culture, as it presently
exists, and is detrimental to the best interests of the university and
of the
sponsoring society.
Another
cost of our publication culture, as it presently exists, is that many
faculty
members are encouraged to become very narrow in their
focus. The best way for many faculty members
to gain a strong publication record is
to focus exclusively on a very narrow range of their discipline and to work at the forefront of that narrow range.
This results in learning a great deal about a very small part of their
discipline and almost nothing (beyond what was learned in graduate
school)
about the much larger part of their
discipline. This would not be a problem if the limitations of this
narrow focus
were generally understood, but often they are not. A faculty member who
establishes
a strong publication record and a national or international reputation
as an
authority in one narrow area of a discipline is often considered
(particularly
by people outside the discipline) to be an authority in all areas of
the
discipline, when, in fact, that person may know very little about these
other
areas beyond what was learned in graduate school many years ago. This
failure
to recognize the limitations of narrowly
accomplished faculty members' abilities, enables them to do damage
sometimes by
sneering at general (rather than
publication-oriented
) discussion of important social issues outside their area of
expertise, by
lending credence to ideas which are many years out of date, or by
failing to understand the importance of,
or even
opposing, recent developments in these other areas of their discipline.
Narcissism (the academic's occupational disease) often prevents a
hugely but
narrowly accomplished faculty member from recognizing his or her
limitations,
which is likely to ensure that the potential damage from their narrow
focus is
realized.
This
is another cost of our publication culture, as it presently exists. One of the consequences of the very narrow
focus of many faculty members, and of the narcissism which seems to be
promoted
by our occupation, is that communication is impaired. The narrowness of
the
focus limits the ability, and sometimes the interest, in discussion of
important social issues outside the narrow area of specialization.
Narcissism
creates conversation which is more likely to be about ones own
importance rather
than about how ones own work bears on important social problems.
Narcissism
also involves a craving for approval which impairs the expression of
opinion
lest offense be given, and to taking criticism of ones ideas (however
wrong) as
a personal affront. Instead of meeting a challenge to ideas with better
ideas,
or alternatively, learning from others'
ideas, the more likely response to
criticism is, in the publication culture,
as it presently exists, to clam up, shunning or demonizing the critic
and
shutting down the conversation. Political correctness prevails in
discussions
of broader issues. This should not be. The university should be a marketplace for ideas, not only within narrow
focus groups, but also among disciplines.
It
should not be, as it is now, a place for a multitude of narrow focus
groups and
a parade of egos.
Changes
are needed. I know I do not have a solution, but there is one thing which could obviously be done to make our
publication culture less of a navel-gazing rat race designed by and for
narcissistic workaholics.
Greater
attention should be made to make available to all faculty members,
non-technical descriptions of the social implications of the research
results
and methodology of our outstanding researchers at SFU. Not enough is
generally
known, for example, about the important research on pine beetle control
by John
Borden, about the important work by Parzi Copes on the East Coast
fisheries,
about the important work by Herb Grubel on unemployment insurance or
about the
important work by Don Devoretz on immigration. We should take much
greater
pains to disseminate detailed non-technical descriptions not only of the results but
also of the methodology employed
in all of this important research. I am sure that there is much more
important
research that has been conducted at the university that I, and many
others,
know nothing about. This illustrates the
problem. As a community of scholars we should take much greater care to
achieve
non-technical communication with others in the university community but
outside
our field of specialization. As it presently exists, too much of the
conversation in our publication culture is between specialists, much
too little
between different fields. Too much of the conversation is about one’s
own
importance rather than the importance of one’s work. Part of the
problem, as I
see it, is that we are generally too little interested in the social
implications of our work, too much interested in our own reputations,
too much
interested in blowing our own horns and
too little interested in learning from
our colleagues.
We
are too contemptuous of others’ ignorance of our specialized knowledge.
We are
too full of ourselves. We need to learn that there are more important
things
than stablishing our own reputation. The university is too much a
multitude of
independent focus groups and a parade of egos. The parade should be
much more
of ideas and much less of egos and there should be much more
interaction among
the focus groups than there is at present.
Richard
Holmes is a
professor at Simon Fraser University.