On Scholarly Productivity

Some people find joy and satisfaction in research and writing, while others have found happiness in other things. I don’t believe tenured lives should be exactly the same. Most universities developed systems of subtle humiliations and pressures to induce more and more scholarship from both tenure-track and tenured faculty. I don’t find these systems sensible or productive. One of the major unintended consequences is the proliferation of shoddy scholarship. Publishing for the sake of publishing encourages new journals and publishing houses to pop up every minute, each with slightly lower standards than the previous one. Drastic reduction in publishing costs made this even worse. In today’s academia, there are more writers than readers.

It is also clear to me that most people will only have one or two good ideas in their life time, if that many. It is sad to observe a publishing machine consisting of many poor graduate students and one academic superstar; a machine that keeps churning out the same book under different titles every year. I have a great respect for textbook authors, who constantly revise and improve their very valuable texts, but little respect for so-called prolific writers who have ran out of steam decades ago, and still pretend to be original. On a personal note, I believe I have one more book in me, but that’s about it. Who knows, maybe another idea will come to my mind later, and then I will write something else. Of course, some people are genuinely prolific, and keep coming up with new ideas throughout their lives. Those are the lucky ones, and they are rather exceptional.

However, scholarship is essential to the whole business of being a university. If we only consume but do not produce any new knowledge, how do we justify our ability to teach students? Where does our claim to authority reside, if not in the ability to produce knowledge? This is especially important in graduate education, where we are supposed to teach our students to generate knowledge and original thought, and teach it by example. So, universities are right to demand evidence of continuing scholarship from its faculty. Or, rather faculty are right to demand it from each other.

How do we reconcile this paradox? On one hand, the publishing game as a whole does not seem to be very productive. On the other hand, scholarship seems to be as central to university’s mission as teaching. A complicating factor, but also a possible solution is the concern for fairness and equity. Since the medieval times, scholarly communities had a specific ethos: they are places where excellence is valued, and yet they are self-governed bodies of equals. Fairness is important on both counts. So when a professor A teaches six classes and publishes two or three refereed papers a year, but professor B publishes nothing, and teaches the same six classes, we have an equity problem. It’s just not fair. The most honorable solution would be for the non-publishing colleague to pick up another class and teach it, or take on a large service project and complete it for the benefit of the whole group.

As I was trying to show, there is nothing embarrassing or shameful about quitting the publishing game. It is just an acknowledgement of a certain course one’s life has taken. For example, I am a full-time administrator, so no one will accuse of me of slacking off if my publication record slows down, right? The assumption is that I am busy and somewhat useful to the university in another capacity. The same logic of respect should be applied to people who decide to concentrate on teaching, and take a break from scholarship. If someone wants to claim 80% of one’s workload as teaching, and 0% as scholarship, such a choice should be greatly respected and appreciated by others. After all, teaching 30 students might do more good than writing another paper. It might not, but it might.

Again, it is not as much an issue of employee’s contractual obligations, or an issue of money. Rather, this is an issue of simple equity. Every faculty should apply about the same effort, but perhaps to different things. And as long as those things are not self-serving, but useful to the institution, others should accept and respect various choices. Active scholarship is good for the institution, but so is teaching and some service. In general, people are most productive when they do what they like to be doing. A university will gain from promoting a culture of diverse interest and equitable but diverse workloads. Of course, such a culture will demand some level of trust that others will chose to carry their fair share of work, and some administrative and peer controls to make sure it happens.

To most people, fairness is more important than money or the amount of work. Whatever the grumblings, our jobs are some of the best ones around. Feelings get hurt when people perceive being treated unfairly by either administration, or by colleagues. Feelings get hurt when someone is obviously taking it easy, while I have to work hard for the same compensation.

Here I am, always arguing for incentives, entrepreneurship, and against egalitarianism. Yet fairness is not the same thing as egalitarianism. A fair person is OK with someone else doing better in life, as long as those better off truly deserve it. A fair person does not experience much envy, because she has her dignity and is given respect. A fair person wishes that no one will poor; he does not wish that no one will be rich.