Academia in Maastricht (part 3): Lost in translation

Academics are stuck spinning their wheels. They live in a cushioned world of science slaving away to produce as many research papers in as little time as possible to maximise their grants. And what’s even more disturbing is that little of this knowledge makes it out into the real world.

This line of reasoning was already at the heart of two conversations I had in Maastricht with expats Marco Zinzani and Tomek Grabowski. Two very distinct pictures were sketched and two barely comparable stories emerged. However, both men agreed that academics are in a sense stuck spinning their wheels, and I was beginning to feel a little discouraged. After all, I’d set out to prove exactly the opposite. Could there be some truth to this ridiculous claim after all? Is my passion to defend academics but a feeble attempt to justify my own choice for a life in this world?

Perhaps there is some middle ground, an opinion I’ve thus far overlooked. To further investigate the legitimacy of this thought, and to learn more about the world of academia in Maastricht and how other “outsiders” are experiencing it, I interviewed Paul Stephenson, a 33-year-old British lecturer in political science at Maastricht University.

Coffee, books and modern faith
I meet Paul in his office at the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences. He immediately strikes me as a polite young man with a pleasant voice and the most charming British accent. We decide to walk over to Coffeelovers in the old church close to the Vrijthof. (Perhaps it’s worth mentioning here that I’m not intentionally promoting Coffeelovers in my articles, I just like coffee).

As we pass our orders, Paul confesses that the girl behind the counter must think he’s a little odd as it’s already his second visit today. Quite apparently Paul also likes coffee. While the girl prepares our drinks, I look around the church-turned-bookstore. As always, this magical place directs my thoughts to the obvious clash between the ancient brick walls ending in arched ceilings elevated high above the solid floor, and the modern steel frames running on one side of the church from back to front. It’s where religion and books come together. One could philosophise about the conquest of science over God, or about knowledge as the modern faith. No matter how you choose to look at it, it’s a remarkably fitting place to have a conversation about academia.

Against the backdrop of an old church column a reading-group is in progression. A man with a book is sitting on a low stool, reading out loud. A group of children are huddled around him on pillows on the floor, gawking up at him, listening intently. Paul and I take a seat at the back where the altar used to be.

A transnational citizen
Paul grew up in a small village outside of Cambridge, and has been working in Maastricht since September 2006 as a lecturer in European Studies.

After completing “sixth form college”, Paul took a gap-year and left for Avignon, France at the age of 18. Upon his return he started a Bachelors in European Studies at the University of London, during which he had the opportunity to spend half a year in Montpellier (southern France) and another half a year in Seville (southern Spain) as part of an Erasmus exchange programme.

After a very short-lived career as an editorial controller working on the launch of digital TV at BSkyB in 1998, Paul decided to go back to university and did a Masters in European Studies (EU politics, economics and history) at Cambridge. He did TEFL to gain a teaching qualification and then, when he was lucky enough to be awarded funding for his PhD, Paul lived in Madrid for a year undertaking archival research in the Spanish parliament, before securing a ”stage” (internship) at the European Commission in Brussels. Thereafter he returned to Cambridge to “write up”, submitting his thesis in October 2002.

The speed at which Paul moved from place to place, and finished writing his PhD, dazzles me. “For some reason I was sort of obsessed with the idea of getting a job, so I probably did it too quickly,” Paul explains.

Nevertheless the young British doctor continued speeding on with the next chapter of his life. Even before handing in his PhD he found a job in Lille, in the north of France, where he worked on EU regional policy for four and a half years. Practitioner experience helped test some of his thesis assertions against the “real world”.

Feeling the need for a change, however, he began to consider moving into academia. Taking advantage of the French system that offered him the possibility to go on a one year sabbatical with the guarantee of going back to his job later, Paul accepted a one-year contract in Maastricht. When this contract was extended Paul effectively gave up his permanent position in France.

Paul doesn’t seem bothered much by this though, because “as my first job a permanent contract felt a little bit like a noose around my neck – the implication that you could, in principle, stay in a job forever was scary”. When I ask him if the short-term job prospects at Maastricht was one of the major draws towards academia, he denies the idea, asserting that the job market is saturated with short-term contracts and that with universities run like businesses they are no exception. “A short–term contract was a risk, the money being less, but the idea of a being in an academic environment was exciting and refreshing,” he says. “Who knows what the future will bring?”

Why Maastricht?
Paul discovered the University of Maastricht on a job website (he can’t remember if it was www.jobs.ac.uk or www.eurobrussels.com) without knowing much about the faculty. His expectations were “probably utopian” he smiles. “I just thought that I would be in a very stimulating environment where I would be surrounded by people with all their own research interests, and that there would be a very healthy, lively research community.”

In reality, Paul found “a very friendly, small, and close knit team”, with “other staff members willing to read your work – time permitting – and give you constructive feedback ”. With respect to research, however, Paul claims that all staff, even the permanent staff, have very heavy teaching schedules, which place certain strains on the system. Young staff, in particular, teaching many hours using the university’s unique Problem-Based Learning (PBL) system, which, with all the preparation, follow-up and administration leaves little time for other research pursuits. There’s always the money issue: “The emphasis within the department and probably in universities worldwide is on encouraging staff to secure their own funding to buy their way out of teaching. So everyone is permanently looking for funds to pursue their own research”.

Paul finds “teaching first years refreshing, because they have so many aspirations, not only about the course but also about their future – they’re just starting out”. On the other hand, speaking trepidaciously, Paul adds: “I find the students here on the whole extremely pro-European at the outset, which is to be expected, largely because of their youth perhaps, and because of the very fact that they have chosen Maastricht. To choose a European Studies program implies a fascination with the identity, direction and governance of Europe”.

But he also confesses to finding many of them rather conservative in their ideas. “I hadn’t come across any really challenging, critical, dare I say, anarchic students. Perhaps one or two will emerge. Not sure if that is a good or bad thing. The nature of the program probably seems to attract a large proportional of students who, at 19 or 20, at least believe they want to pursue a career in Brussels within the EU institutions. It is interesting to see how their insights and ambitions change over the three years.”

Because of the prescriptive PBL-system where all students read the same literature readings – a system which Paul generally seems to be impressed with – one might argue that the university does, to some extent, extend the highschool culture of dependency in the first year, instead of the independent enquiry that the predominantly lecture-based universities might encourage. “But this can also be seen as a good bridge between the spoon-feeding of the pupil and the independent detective work of the more mature and self-sufficient researcher.”

On the university Paul states: “It’s a young university, which is a good asset. Some older institutions tend to sit on their laurels. Maastricht still has grand ambitions to carve out a name for itself by marketing its European brand”. With regard to Maastricht’s reputation abroad Paul states that “at the moment the University of Maastricht may not have a significant international profile in the UK, though of course, given that it offers the largest European Studies course in Europe, its program will be well known in politics departments”. Paul informs me that the university recently jumped up 60 points in the Times Higher Education Supplement (THES) ranking of European universities.

Spinning wheels
Inevitably the question comes up: how does Paul feel about academics spinning their wheels? Maybe I’m just not asking the question in the right way, as for a third time I’m told that “you can certainly argue that academia is a self-perpetuating network or circle”. Some believe there are far too many conferences held and articles published. “Every day you are bombarded by emails announcing at least five to ten forthcoming conferences. Perhaps that’s just because of the character of academia - this modern audit culture with its quantification of research output. Conferences are the place to bring together like-minded people, to begin by presenting conference papers and hope they can evolve into journal articles. There is pressure upon all academic departments because they are scored by government and international bodies – there are reputations and a lot of money at stake in terms of potential funding. Not all disciplines may be able to adapt as easily where there is not the culture for peer-review”.

When I press on a bit more I get a long pause, followed by a shy but thoughtful smile: “I don’t have any authority to say much, but as for research spilling into policy, or making a difference, I don’t know. I guess that research-funding councils have their own priorities linked to government policy”. Nevertheless Paul believes that there’s a lot of crossover between academia and the real world, and both are mutually dependent. In this sense Paul is glad to have had some experience working as a practitioner: “It gave me more confidence. It’s a way to see the other side of the table and what the “reality” is, you know, the confused, chaotic, blind reality of politics. What use this is to advancing in an academic career is another question altogether, though it certainly provides empirical material and experience to draw upon”.

Why did Paul choose to become an academic? “My motivation for academia was not just a kind of default option because I disliked the office environment – in fact it was very hard to make the break - it’s more that I wanted to try something new and be able to make the comparison,” he explains. “Being in an academic environment I think you feel that you’re doing something that’s ultimately very worthwhile in that you’re helping to mould young people and, one hopes, to inspire them, not necessarily to instruct them, but to inspire them to stand on their own too feet and be curious yet critical”.

Besides working with young people Paul also enjoys being allowed - and paid! - to be able (again, time-permitting) to pursue his own research interests in EU policy-making, transport and cohesion policy and his general fascination with France and Spain: “Every day you have this idea that you’re kind of cementing your knowledge a little bit incrementally, through the teaching where you get exposure to new literature, the ideas discussed with the students, and those rare light-bulb moments where something you read sparks a new project or helps provides a way of developing something that’s been simmering for a while”.

“You are just the sum of your life experiences”
Most of Paul’s family and friends “are kind of scattered” between the UK, France and Spain. Hence, Paul is continually flitting back and forth between the three countries and Maastricht: “I realised the other day, that actually I don’t really live anywhere. It’s become a kind of norm, this peripatetic existence where you’re just between places”. I sigh and nod, this is all starting to sound very familiar.

Paul continues: “It can be refreshing, I enjoy being on trains, I mean on fast trains like Eurostar. You’re in between places, travelling at high speeds, and it does release some sort of creative energy”. He tells me how upon each new arrival, be it in Lille or London, he’s made to question everything anew - the aesthetics, the cherished values, the things people are obsessed with or take for granted. “It’s like being able to press “Refresh” on a web page that’s stuck”.

Where does this attraction to continually move around come from I wonder? Paul helps me out: “It’s kind of a nice existence as you don’t get weighed down by the drudgery of normal existence. Everything is interesting in some way, be it linguistic or aesthetically. Even doing your laundry can have some kind of cultural fascination”.

In Maastricht Paul’s social life generally revolves around colleagues from the faculty. “Yeah, I reside here, I reside in several places. At the moment I feel Maastricht is a place I come to work, but it could become more than that if I put in the effort, but you’re always just tempted to just jump on a train”.

How can one not fall for the charms of a city as attractive as Maastricht? “Maastricht is a lovely town,” Paul agrees. “It reminds me very much of Cambridge in the urban fabric, the history, the buildings, bicycles, students”. Paul, however, admits that he doesn’t know that much about the rest of the Netherlands: “I’m still yearning for more cultural insights into Dutch literature for instance. Maastricht is pretty much my only real experience with Holland although I went to the Randstad for work, Amsterdam for tourism. However to me, despite recent events, The Netherlands has a very positive image, extremely friendly and open, with many parallels to British society”.

Continuing the parallel between Maastricht and his hometown Paul says: “Coming from Cambridge where it’s kind of like a Disneyland of Asian, American and Europeans, its actually nice to be somewhere I consider more local as opposed to international. Maastricht is real, you know, it’s not a transient place like Brussels. This is actually a place where people live. For a person who just resides into places like me, it’s important to be embedded into a local context. It takes a good two years to have any semblance of feeling settled, though ‘settled’ itself has some negative connotations - maybe I just mean comfortable”.

“I don’t know any Brits here in Maastricht even though I’m told it is full of expats,” Paul continues. “That said, I can’t really claim to know any locals. I think the facility with which everybody can speak English in The Netherlands is actually a barrier to integrating in the country. In France or Spain I was forced to speak the language to communicate, and thus to learn it well and fast. I made great friends, although of course it took time, and I was not working full-time.” As a person very much addicted to moving between places myself, I can understand Paul’s sentiment. It takes a lot of effort to settle down in a place, no matter how lovely. Especially when your heart resides at more places at once.

Paul doesn’t express any regrets for his career switch. After working as a practitioner, being an academic is like a new lease of life. “I’ll probably have to take stock in two or three years and decide if I’m going to pursue an academic career in the long term, which, at the moment, I certainly hope will be the case”.

What’s next?
What strikes me most when speaking to Paul is the conscientious and contemplative way in which he answers my questions, carefully weighing his words. Yet he sometimes gets carried away in the middle of a story, stirring around excitedly on his chair. He tells me a lot with many details, not all of which I understand to their full extent. I suppose that being in neuroscience my brain is only wired to understand how other brains are wired, and not to fully understand politics. But his enthusiasm is definitely contagious.

In any case, thinking back on our conversation, I realise that I recognised a lot in Paul’s story, especially the part about not knowing where home really is. Perhaps this is the common denominator that binds academics? Perhaps they’re all a bit lost in the world? Or maybe it’s much simpler than that: it is the expat part of them that isn’t really at home anywhere even though it doesn’t prevent them from being able to make a home in many places. Paul for one seems very well equipped to do so. In that case are academics really stuck spinning their wheels? Or is the opposite true? Are they just more flexible, adaptable, like weeds, able to move and put roots down wherever they see fit?

In the end it’s all a matter of semantics and attitude. I’m suddenly reminded of a short line in a popular pop song: ‘Not lost, just undiscovered’, it proclaims. Touché.

By Rosanne Rademaker

Born in The Hague, Rosanne Rademaker is currently living and studying in Maastricht for a research master in Neuro Psychology. Rosanne also writes (in Dutch) for youth magazine Code Maastricht.

Related articles:

• Academia in Maastricht (part 1): “A good quality of life and a university: the perfect combination of things”
• Academia in Maastricht (part 2): the life and times of a Polish-American rebel
• Academia in Maastricht (part 4): Are academics stuck spinning their wheels? A final verdict