European Journal of Turkish Studies, 30 | 2020, “Numéro En Lutte” [Online], Online Since 30 June 2020, Connection on 02 July 2021

European Journal of Turkish Studies Social Sciences on Contemporary Turkey

30 | 2020 Numéro en lutte Protestausgabe In Struggle Issue Mücadele Sayısı

Electronic version URL: https://journals.openedition.org/ejts/6407 DOI: 10.4000/ejts.6407 ISSN: 1773-0546

Publisher EJTS

Electronic reference European Journal of Turkish Studies, 30 | 2020, “Numéro en lutte” [Online], Online since 30 June 2020, connection on 02 July 2021. URL: https://journals.openedition.org/ejts/6407; DOI: https://doi.org/ 10.4000/ejts.6407

This text was automatically generated on 2 July 2021.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

La lutte est pleine Rédaction de l’EJTS

As the Struggle Continues The EJTS Editorial Board

On Pause: Academic Precarity in the COVID-19 Era and Beyond in Greece Precademics 85.42.1

Faire de la science au Chili : la recherche par projet comme seul horizon Jeanne Hersant

Qu’est-ce qui motive l’enseignant-chercheur ? Aslıhan Aykaç Yanardağ

Témoignage d’un universitaire « agitateur d’idées » en France et en Turquie Ahmet Insel, Élise Massicard and Özgür Türesay

Bureaucratic and Neoliberal Management in Academia A Franco-Chinese Dialogue between Two Anthropologists Tang Yun, Katiana Le Mentec and Camille Noûs

Quelque part en Asie : l’expérience d’un “chercheur en visite” Camille Noûs

Être professeur junior à l’université allemande : retour d’expérience Elsa Clavé

Reflections on Exile and Academic Precarity: Discussing At the Margins of Academia Aslı Vatansever and Aysuda Kölemen

Purge, Exile, and Resistance:Rethinking the Conflict of the Faculties through the Case of Academics for Peace in Turkey Cem Özatalay

Sümbül Kaya’nın Emine Sevim ve BIRARADA derneğiyle röportajı Emine Sevim and Sümbül Kaya

Entretien avec Emine Sevim de l’association « BİRARADA » par Sümbül Kaya Emine Sevim and Sümbül Kaya

European Journal of Turkish Studies, 30 | 2020 2

La lutte est pleine

Rédaction de l’EJTS

“France’s government needs to take a harder look at its latest competitiveness agenda, now that researchers have had time to study the impacts of such policies elsewhere. It should strive for the best of both worlds: to produce research that benefits society, balanced with support for the well-being of those on the academic front line.” (Nature 2020: 8)

1 Bientôt un an que la rédaction de l’EJTS participe à la mobilisation suscitée en France par le projet de « loi de programmation pluriannuelle de la recherche » (LPPR), qui va de pair avec le projet de réforme du système français des retraites. La première trace de cette mobilisation, inscrite au cœur de notre activité, fut notre numéro « Recherche en danger » paru l’été dernier. Numéro blanc, vide de toute recherche, en signe annonciateur de la stérilité scientifique programmée par la LPPR (EJTS 2019). Six mois plus tard, la loi — désormais renommée, en une sorte d’aveu de court-termisme, « loi de programmation de la recherche » (LPR) — était votée, sa teneur aggravée. (Cf. CPESR 2020)

2 L’affaire est-elle entendue ? Ce numéro « En lutte » est notre réponse collective. Critiquer tel projet de loi, la LP(P)R, dans tel pays, la France, exigeait de mettre les situations dont nous sommes familiers en regard d’autres contextes nationaux ou régionaux ; et ce faisant, de nous lier d’amitié avec des chercheurs et chercheuses ayant l’expérience d’autres mondes. L’hétérogénéité de ces prises de parole est tangible jusque dans leurs différents formats d’écriture : le récit du témoin côtoie l’entretien- fleuve, l’analyse graphique succède au manifeste. Et cependant, les auteurs savaient qu’ils se livraient à un travail collectif. En même temps qu’ils écrivaient, ils se lisaient les uns les autres. Cette lecture croisée est ce à quoi invite ce numéro. Il témoigne de liens, noués ou réactivés grâce au mouvement, et constitutifs à leur tour de mobilisations à venir.

3 Les concepteurs de la LP(P)R en France l’ont dit et répété : leur souci premier est le « risque de décrochage de la France en termes d’investissement », retard qu’il est

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urgent de rattraper vis-à-vis des « pays les plus avancés » (LPR 2020, rapport annexe : 3 et suiv.). Or ces mêmes pays seraient aussi censément représentatifs d’une « pratique internationale standard » à laquelle la France ferait exception (ibid. : 39). Fort logiquement donc, la solution serait l’alignement des normes (de recrutement, de rémunération, de pilotage, d’évaluation...) sur celles, supposément standard, de ces pays modèles.

4 Mais de quels pays s’agit-il ? La liste n’en est pas fixe. Néanmoins le rapport annexe au projet de loi invoque, parmi les rares sources qu’il cite, « une étude menée par les conseillers scientifiques des ambassades de France dans huit pays clés de la recherche : Allemagne, Australie, États-Unis, Grande-Bretagne [sic], Japon, Pays-Bas, Singapour, Suisse » (ibid. : 5). Cette étude est celle qu’avait sollicitée en 2019 le groupe de travail « Attractivité des emplois et des carrières scientifiques » mandaté par ministère de l’Enseignement supérieur, de la Recherche et de l’Innovation afin de préparer le projet de loi (Berta, Mauguin et Tunon de Lara 2019). Les membres du groupe de travail s’en étaient inspirés pour un « exercice de parangonnage », non sans souligner « la diversité des modèles », reconnaissant ainsi explicitement que la notion de « pratique internationale standard » n’était qu’une fiction régulatrice (ibid. : 14). C’est en cherchant à reproduire le raisonnement de ces collègues devenus conseillers du pouvoir, et à élargir le cercle des pays cités en modèles, que nous avons travaillé. Comme y invitent les éditorialistes de Nature cités en exergue, la référence internationale dont se réclament les politiques mises en œuvre aujourd’hui (par les gouvernements comme par les établissements) exige « un examen plus attentif, maintenant que les chercheurs ont eu le temps d’étudier les impacts de telles politiques ailleurs ».

5 En somme, la lutte dont nous parlons ici implique la poursuite d’un travail critique (cf. Doussot et Pons 2020). La bibliographie scientifique et journalistique est abondante : on ne peut s’en tenir à la lecture de rapports d’ambassade (par ailleurs inaccessibles au public, à notre connaissance). Qui dit critique dit questionnement et conflit des valeurs : on ne peut s’en remettre au schématisme du « parangonnage », qui sans doute sert le dirigisme du gestionnaire, mais évacue l’incertitude nécessaire à la découverte scientifique. Cette lutte-là ne sera pas happée par la circonstance qui l’a rendue visible. Elle a toujours eu lieu, et continuera.

6 Nous faisons une revue, nous faisons de la science. Et nous avons bien l’intention de continuer.

BIBLIOGRAPHIE

Afonso, Alexandre (2016). “Varieties of Academic Labor Markets in Europe”, PS: Political Science & Politics, 49(4), pp. 816-821. DOI: 10.1017/S1049096516001505

Arlaud, Sylvie et al. (2020). « L’université allemande comme horizon de la LPPR ? », 12 juin 2020. URL : https://blogs.mediapart.fr/jeremie-g/blog/120620/l-universite-allemande-comme- horizon-de-la-lppr

European Journal of Turkish Studies, 30 | 2020 4

Berta, Philippe ; Mauguin, Philippe ; Tunon de Lara, Manuel (2019). « Attractivité des emplois et des carrières scientifiques », rapport préparatoire remis au ministère de l’Enseignement supérieur, de la Recherche et de l’Innovation le 23 septembre 2019. URL : https:// cache.media.enseignementsup-recherche.gouv.fr/file/loi_programmation_pluriannuelle/46/4/ RAPPORT_FINAL_GT2_Attractivite_des_emplois_et_des_carrieres_1178464.pdf

Bezes, Philippe (2020). « Le nouveau phénomène bureaucratique. Le gouvernement par la performance entre bureaucratisation, marché et politique », Revue Française de Science Politique, 70(1), pp. 21-47. DOI: 10.3917/rfsp.701.0021

Childress, Herb (2016). The PhDictionary: A Glossary of Things You Don’t Know (but Should) about Doctoral and Faculty Life, Chicago Londres, The Université of Chicago Press.

Childress, Herb (2019). The Adjunct Underclass: How America’s Colleges Betrayed Their Faculty, Their Students, and Their Mission, Chicago, The University of Chicago Press.

[Collectif] (2018). “Flexible Dienstleister der Wissenschaft”, par un collectif d’enseignants- chercheurs des universités et organismes de recherche allemands, Frankfurter Allgemeiner Zeitung, 27 mars 2018. URL : https://www.faz.net/-gqz-989ss

[Collectif] (2020). « Enseignement supérieur et recherche : appel solennel pour la protection des libertés académiques et du droit d’étudier », 29 octobre 2020. URL : https:// academia.hypotheses.org/27287

[Collectif] (2020). “Statement on Equity and COVID-19”, par le collectif Tenure for the Common Good, 30 mars 2020. URL : https://tenureforthecommongood.org/statement-on-equity-and- teaching-during-the-covid-19-epidemic/

Connell, Raewyn (2019). The Good University: What Universities Actually Do and Why It’s Time for Radical Change, Londres, Zed Books.

CPESR (2020). Site de veille de la Conférence des praticiens de l’enseignement supérieur et de la recherche, recensant les pièces du dossier concernant la loi de programmation de la recherche : textes officiels, rapports et tribunes, analyses. URL : https://cpesr.fr/2020/01/dossier-lppr/

Doussot, Sylvain ; Pons, Xavier (2020). « La LPPR et la réforme de l’enseignement supérieur et de la recherche : analyses critiques », Revue française de pédagogie, 207, pp. 11-18. DOI : 10.4000/rfp. 9141

EJTS (2019). « Le temps du vide » [éditorial], European Journal of Turkish Studies, 29 : Recherche en danger. URL : https://journals.openedition.org/ejts/6462

Foucault, Martial ; Lépinard, Éléonore ; Lépinay, Vincent ; Mallard, Grégoire (2009). « Pour des universités plus justes », La Vie des Idées, 17 février 2009. URL : https://laviedesidees.fr/Pour-des- universites-plus-justes.html

Harris, Adam (2019). “The Death of an Adjunct”, The Atlantic, 8 avril 2019. URL : www.theatlantic.com/education/archive/2019/04/adjunct-professors-higher-education-thea- hunter/586168/

Lindner, Kolja (2019). « Le modèle allemand : précarité et résistances dans l’enseignement supérieur et la recherche d’outre-Rhin », in Duclos, M. ; Fjeld, A. (dir.), Liberté de la recherche. Conflits, pratiques, horizons, Paris, Kimé, pp. 209-218. URL : https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr/ halshs-02496377

LPR (2020). Dossier législatif « Programmation de la recherche pour les années 2021 à 2030 », URL : www.assemblee-nationale.fr/dyn/15/dossiers/programmation_recherche_2021_2030

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Nature (2020). “France’s Reforms: the Costs of Competitiveness” [editorial], Nature, 587, pp. 7-8. DOI: 10.1038/d41586-020-02853-w

Readings, Bill (1996). The University in Ruins, Cambridge Londres, Harvard University Press.

Roux, Didier (2017). « Recherche fondamentale, inventions et innovations », leçon inaugurale prononcée au Collège de France le 2 mars 2017. URL : www.college-de-france.fr/site/didier-roux/ inaugural-lecture-2017-03-02-18h00.htm

Strasser, Sabine; Stoica, Georgeta ; Loher, David (dir.) (2019). “Politics of Precarity: Neoliberal Academia under Austerity Measures and Authoritarian Threat” [special issue]. Social Anthropology/Anthropologie Sociale, 27. DOI: 10.1111/1469-8676.12724

Warner, John (2017). “19 Theses on Tenure”. URL : https://www.insidehighered.com/blogs/just- visiting/19-theses-tenure

INDEX

Mots-clés : revues en lutte, université ouverte, sciences en danger, édition scientifique, indexation, loi de programmation pluriannuelle de la recherche (LPPR), parangonnage, pratique internationale standard

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As the Struggle Continues

The EJTS Editorial Board

1 It will soon be a year since the editorial staff of the EJTS joined the mobilization provoked in France by the draft “multiannual research programming law” (LPPR), which goes hand in hand with the project to reform the French pension system. The first result of this mobilization, which lies at the heart of our activities, was the “Research in danger” issue we published last summer: A blank issue, devoid of research, to serve as a warning sign against the scientific sterility foreseen by the LPPR (EJTS 2020). Six months later, the law—now renamed, as a sort of admission of short- term thinking, the “research programming law” (LPR)—was passed, its contents even worse (cf. CPESR 2020).

2 Has the case been heard? This issue, “In Struggle”, is our collective response. Criticizing a law such as the LP(P)R in a country such as France required seeing situations with which we are familiar in light of other national or regional contexts; and in so doing, to befriend researchers with experiences from other worlds. The heterogeneity of these interventions is tangible even in their different writing formats: The witness account rubs shoulders with the meandering interview; the graphical analysis follows the manifesto. And yet, the authors knew that they were taking part in collective labor. Even as they were writing, they were reading each other. Such cross-reading is what this issue invites. It bears witness to the links that were established or reactivated thanks to the movement, and which, in turn, will constitute future mobilizations.

3 The designers of the LP(P)R in France have said it over and over again: Their primary concern is the “risk of France lagging behind in terms of investment,” a lag that makes it urgent to catch up with the “most advanced countries” (LPR 2020, appendix report: 3

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et seq.). However, these same countries also supposedly represent a “standard international practice” from which France is an exception (ibid.: 39). Quite logically, therefore, the solution would be to align our norms (of recruitment, remuneration, management, evaluation, etc.) with the supposedly standard norms of these model countries.

4 But which countries are those? The list is not fixed. Nevertheless, the report annexed to the bill invokes, among the rare sources it cites, “a study carried out by the scientific advisers of the French embassies in eight key research countries: Germany, Australia, United States, Great Britain [sic], Japan, the Netherlands, Singapore, Switzerland” (ibid.: 5). This study was requested in 2019 by the working group “Attractiveness of jobs and scientific careers” mandated by the Ministry of Higher Education, Research and Innovation in order to prepare the present bill (Berta, Mauguin and Tunon de Lara 2019). The members of the working group were inspired to carry out a “benchmarking exercise”, but not without underlining “the diversity of models”, thus explicitly recognizing that the notion of “standard international practice” was only a regulatory fiction (ibid.: 14). It is by seeking to reproduce the reasoning of these colleagues, colleagues who had become advisers to power, and to widen the circle of countries cited as models, that we have worked. As the authors of the Nature editorial suggest, the international references on which governments and institutions today claim to base their policies require “a more careful examination, now that researchers have had the time to study the impacts of such policies elsewhere”.

5 In short, the struggle we are talking about here involves the pursuit of critical work (cf. Doussot and Pons 2020). The scientific and journalistic bibliography is abundant; one cannot limit oneself to reading embassy reports (which are inaccessible to the public, to our knowledge). Critique means questioning and a conflict of values: We cannot rely on the schematism of “benchmarking”, which undoubtedly facilitates managerial control but also eliminates the uncertainty necessary for scientific discovery. This struggle cannot be reduced to the current circumstances that made it visible. It has always been there, and it always will be.

6 We run a journal; we do science. And we intend to continue.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Afonso, Alexandre (2016). ‘Varieties of Academic Labor Markets in Europe’, PS: Political Science & Politics, 49(4), pp. 816-821. DOI: 10.1017/S1049096516001505

Arlaud, Sylvie et al. (2020). ‘L’université allemande comme horizon de la LPPR’, 12 June 2020. URL : https://blogs.mediapart.fr/jeremie-g/blog/120620/l-universite-allemande-comme- horizon-de-la-lppr

Berta, Philippe; Mauguin, Philippe; Tunon de Lara, Manuel (2019). ‘Attractivité des emplois et des carrières scientifiques’, preparatory report sent to the Ministry of Higher Education, Research and Innovation on 23 September 2019. URL : https://cache.media.enseignementsup-

European Journal of Turkish Studies, 30 | 2020 8

recherche.gouv.fr/file/loi_programmation_pluriannuelle/46/4/ RAPPORT_FINAL_GT2_Attractivite_des_emplois_et_des_carrieres_1178464.pdf

Bezes, Philippe (2020). ‘Le nouveau phénomène bureaucratique. Le gouvernement par la performance entre bureaucratisation, marché et politique’, Revue Française de Science Politique, 70(1), pp. 21-47. DOI: 10.3917/rfsp.701.0021

Childress, Herb (2016). The PhDictionary: A Glossary of Things You Don’t Know (but Should) about Doctoral and Faculty Life, Chicago and London , The University of Chicago Press.

Childress, Herb (2019). The Adjunct Underclass: How America’s Colleges Betrayed Their Faculty, Their Students, and Their Mission, Chicago, The University of Chicago Press.

[Collectif] (2018). ‘Flexible Dienstleister der Wissenschaft’, par un collectif d’enseignants- chercheurs des universités et organismes de recherche allemands, Frankfurter Allgemeiner Zeitung, 27 March 2018. URL : https://www.faz.net/-gqz-989ss

[Collectif] (2020). ‘Enseignement supérieur et recherche : appel solennel pour la protection des libertés académiques et du droit d’étudier’, 29 October 2020. URL : https:// academia.hypotheses.org/27287

[Collectif] (2020). ‘Statement on Equity and COVID-19’, par le collectif Tenure for the Common Good, 30 March 2020. URL : https://tenureforthecommongood.org/statement-on-equity-and- teaching-during-the-covid-19-epidemic/

Connell, Raewyn (2019). The Good University: What Universities Actually Do and Why It’s Time for Radical Change, London, Zed Books.

CPESR (2020). Monitoring site of the Conference of Higher Education and Research Scholars, listing official drafts, parliamentary reports, opinion columns, etc. URL : https://cpesr.fr/ 2020/01/dossier-lppr/

Doussot, Sylvain; Pons, Xavier (2020). ‘La LPPR et la réforme de l’enseignement supérieur et de la recherche : analyses critiques’, Revue française de pédagogie, 207, pp. 11-18. DOI : 10.4000/rfp.9141

EJTS (2019). ‘A Time for Emptiness’ [editorial], European Journal of Turkish Studies, 29 : Recherche en danger. URL : https://journals.openedition.org/ejts/6486

Foucault, Martial; Lépinard, Éléonore; Lépinay, Vincent; Mallard, Grégoire (2009). ‘Pour des universités plus justes’, La Vie des Idées, 17 February 2009. URL : https://laviedesidees.fr/Pour- des-universites-plus-justes.html

Harris, Adam (2019). ‘The Death of an Adjunct’, The Atlantic, 8 April 2019. URL : www.theatlantic.com/education/archive/2019/04/adjunct-professors-higher-education-thea- hunter/586168/

Lindner, Kolja (2019). ‘Le modèle allemand : précarité et résistances dans l’enseignement supérieur et la recherche d’outre-Rhin’, in Duclos, M.; Fjeld, A. (eds.), Liberté de la recherche. Conflits, pratiques, horizons, Paris, Kimé, pp. 209-218. URL : https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr/ halshs-02496377

LPR (2020). ‘Programmation de la recherche pour les années 2021 à 2030’, parliamentary drafts and proceedings. URL : www.assemblee-nationale.fr/dyn/15/dossiers/ programmation_recherche_2021_2030

Nature (2020). ‘France’s Reforms: the Costs of Competitiveness’ [editorial], Nature, 587, pp. 7-8. DOI: 10.1038/d41586-020-02853-w

European Journal of Turkish Studies, 30 | 2020 9

Readings, Bill (1996). The University in Ruins, Cambridge, MA and London, Harvard University Press.

Roux, Didier (2017). ‘Recherche fondamentale, inventions et innovations’, keynote lecture given at the Collège de France on 2 March 2017. URL : www.college-de-france.fr/site/didier-roux/ inaugural-lecture-2017-03-02-18h00.htm

Strasser, Sabine; Stoica, Georgeta; Loher, David (dir.) (2019). ‘Politics of Precarity: Neoliberal Academia under Austerity Measures and Authoritarian Threat’ [special issue]. Social Anthropology/ Anthropologie Sociale, 27. DOI: 10.1111/1469-8676.12724

Warner, John (2017). ‘19 Theses on Tenure’. URL : https://www.insidehighered.com/blogs/just- visiting/19-theses-tenure

INDEX

Mots-clés: journals in struggle, open university, endangered sciences, scientific publishing, indexing, multiannual research programming law (LPPR), benchmarking, standard international practice

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On Pause: Academic Precarity in the COVID-19 Era and Beyond in Greece

Precademics 85.42.1

1 Precademics 85.42.1 is a self-organized collective, operating through horizontal processes, aiming to share experiences, politicize difficulties and collectively claim better working conditions in research, teaching and management of higher education institutions in Greece. The number 85.42.1 is the tax office code that employees in higher education in Greece use in order to provide services. This code establishes the new working status of the “self-employed” in higher education in conditions of precarity.

Introduction

2 Lately we had to live with one more “crisis”, this time in the form of a pandemic. Responding to COVID-19, the government imposed unprecedented restrictive measures, such as social distancing, the close policing of our movements, but also an imposed self-confinement worded as our personal responsibility to “stay home”. The impact of this new condition on our everyday lives has unequal and differential manifestations. In the field of academic knowledge production and education, the COVID-19 crisis has been coupled with a move towards the intensified digitalization of our educational and research tools, which reinforces our precarity and uncertainty in a sudden and violent manner.

3 Seemingly, our participation in knowledge production processes constitutes a privileged field of employment. In practice, however, online teaching and other e- learning schemes, which have been presented as an efficient strategy of disease containment, go hand in hand with the emergence of a series of consequences that redefine our everyday lives. Contrary to the “indispensable” workers in hospitals or in transport and logistics, who risk their lives on a daily basis, we enjoy the supposed “comfort” and “security” of our own private spaces. However, in this condition of confinement in domestic spaces, experienced differently by each one of us, we are asked to produce, individually and without pause, knowledge products, which are

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increasingly in demand: e-classes, reports of research projects, online seminars and workshops, but also all sorts of digital content that spreads as part of a wider effort to reproduce a sense of normality. It is as if everything has remained the same as it was before COVID-19: final exams should not be postponed; university exams should not be lost; deliverables should not be delayed. The quality of our efforts is often affected by the lack of preparation and training in digital platforms, psychological pressures and recurring difficulties with insufficient technological infrastructures. What is more, online work is being presented as our duty in the “national struggle” against the virus1 as if we were all working under the same conditions, as if our precarity in these exceptional circumstances does not count, as if it is merely one more detail in the broader state of exception (Agamben 2003).

4 This novel condition does not merely touch upon the fields of knowledge production and education but is also linked to the emerging push to familiarize ourselves with new techniques and technologies. Coupled with the policies of distancing and isolation which it entails, this new condition is also attached to the imposition of a novel type of labour relations. Already integral to the everyday working schedule of many precarious workers before the pandemic, the private space of home constitutes part of a temporality of labour that signals pre-existing obstacles to accessing offices and working spaces in academic institutions. Yet, the obligatory confinement at home (a space that differs both materially and socially from person to person) is used today as a tool for broadening the entanglement between labour and qualitatively differentiated time, the typical characteristic of the post-Fordist paradigm.

5 With this short text, we aim to offer a glimpse of the violent and sudden “new normal” that has been so forcefully deployed to expand our precarity during the pandemic. While our main experiences come from the Greek context, we believe that this new grammar of precarity pertains to new configurations of a political paradigm already prevalent across the globe. Here, we tell the story of our own precarity as a tool of affinity, but also as a way to create relations and spaces of affiliation against the normalization of uncertainty.

Normalizing Precarity in Greece

6 Academic precarity is not a recent phenomenon in Greece. Nor is it limited to the humanities, but it extends across disciplines and sectors; even though natural scientists have access to more funding opportunities, they too fall under the same brutal regime of utter precarity. The ways in which precarity has been intensified and reproduced in recent years have their roots in a previously normalized regime of labour deregulation in academia. On the one hand, tenured members of staff enjoy a public-servant status. On the other, precarious teaching and research staff is contracted under temporary “self-employed” status for limited periods of time. These two worlds are interconnected through a web of highly hierarchized practices, producing relations of dependency and exploitation among the two groups. Although this regime was in place before 2008, it intensified during the financial debt crisis and the imposed Memoranda, which introduced severe restrictions on the recruitment of civil servants, creating enormous gaps in the teaching and research staff of public academic institutions. To fill these gaps, successive right- and left-wing governments have institutionalized academic precarity and normalized labour deregulation with very little opposition – if any – from the labour unions of tenured academic staff. The official rhetoric about this

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change traces its origins at a time when workers recurrently employed with limited- term employment contracts in the public sector took cases to court in order to claim their labour rights and become full-time civil servants. Although this has since been addressed legally, allowing universities to hire researchers and teaching staff with short-term employment contracts without any further legal obligations, universities still opt for temporary self-employment contracts en masse. This also applies to the case of EU-funded temporary teaching staff and research fellows even though employment contracts are a contractual obligation for host institutes, at least for such programs as the Marie Curie and the ERC; that they stand to lose overheads if they do not honour this requirement has not initiated a change in policy.2 Only research institutes differ slightly in that they do offer short-term employment contracts for EU-funded fellows sparing them of the self-employed status temporarily. Yet this policy does in no way change the landscape of precarity in Greek academia or provide any long-term openings for precarious academics.

7 Specifically, the university departments of Special Accounts for Research Funds (ELKE) responsible for hiring research and teaching fellows as well as managing research programs have persistently refused to give temporary employment contracts to precarious academic staff, effectively refusing to implement the legal framework introduced by the Ministry of Education with Law 4386/2016; important to note here is that these departments are directed and managed by tenured academic staff who are elected by their assemblies. Nevertheless, this is just the tip of the iceberg. ELKE departments across Greece are responsible for perpetuating a deeply embedded culture, marked by grossly unfair and unacceptable working conditions that would have been rigorously protested by most university professors and unions if it were directed to them, treating precarious academics as fully dispensable.

8 Furthermore, the “self-employed” status entraps precarious academics to more pronounced and bleak working conditions than limited-time employment contracts. It is marked by the withholding of a wide range of labour rights, such as full coverage of health and social insurance, work accidents, longer maternity leave, and unemployment benefits. It also means no participation in departmental meetings, decision-making, and supervising as well as limited – if any – teaching in the case of research fellows. “Self-employed” teaching and research staff is subjected to bureaucratic procedures, which render working conditions even more stressful; this situation has worsened during the lockdown as public sector services have become even more dysfunctional. Most importantly though, self-employment contracts allow universities, and in some cases research centres, to pay precarious research and teaching staff with massive delays that can sometimes extend to even a year or more. These delays can be linked, to an extent, to institutional problems and bureaucracy inherent to the ELKE system across Greece, but also to the systematic redirection of available funds – especially EU pre-financing – to cover other immediate needs of Universities.3 In a sense, to talk about academic precarity one has to also take into account the devastation Greece has been suffering in the context of the EU and the debt regime of the Troika memoranda. Implemented by Greek governments, they have affected all aspects of the national sector including universities and research centres, whose research reserves have been severely reduced. Though this cannot be understood as the starting point of this unjust regime, it has certainly intensified it in more ways than one.

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9 Self-employment contracts attest to the intention of Greek academic institutions to keep a great number of staff under acute precarity and a minimum-rights regime, turning state universities and research institutes – which would normally be seen as allies for researchers and teaching fellows – into unfair employers who survive on the exploitation of their precarious staff, while retaining a stable and secure employment regime for its full-time academic staff members. These are the same employers that we, as precarious academics, are called upon to support on many grounds, under the premise of keeping university education free and accessible to all. However, this support becomes increasingly hard to sustain, as it doesn’t only require our research and teaching, but also our relentless despair, frustration, and disillusionment, as well as poverty.

Zoom in, Zoom Out: Online Education, Research, and the Precarious Body as a Neoliberal Tool

10 Precarity is not only reflected in our income and the constant anxiety about short- and long-term survival. It is deeply engrained in how we set our priorities and view ourselves. It conditions our desires and everyday lives in ways that affect our personal and family relationships as well as our own well-being. Work time and space become ever-expanding notions that infect the pace of everyday lives. Our homes from private spaces become increasingly working spaces – something that has been intensified in extremis during the COVID-19 pandemic. Precarity, then, is not merely a description of labour conditions. It is also re-shaping and restructuring our subjectivities. The precarious subject now becomes a spatio-temporally defined working body, “ready” to work at any time and place. Any attempt to resist this by writing fewer articles or participating in fewer conferences – all unpaid labour in Greece for precarious academic staff – is usually understood as a lack of commitment, as a flaw, or as a gap in the academic achievements listed in our curriculum vitae. Caught in this rat race, most of us have at some point found ourselves enveloped in the imaginary fantasy (in the Lacanian sense) of a permanent academic post emerging as the victorious outcome of our exceptional list of achievements and qualifications, our hard labour and remarkable competencies. Yet the brutal reality stares us in the face, blatantly stating that none of these factors are truly necessary to obtain a permanent job. Hard work and self-sacrifice do not suffice to get us out of the limbo of precarity.

11 The top-down decisions imposed as countermeasures, and the ensuing experiments with online education and research acquire new significance in the wake of the pandemic, offering a glimpse into an emerging normality that has its roots in past efforts to impose a neoliberal regime across academia. This is particularly so in the “back-to-normal” rhetoric currently promoted by governments all over the world as a way to overcome the economic impacts of the lockdowns. Within this context, technology in the form of online infrastructure of knowledge production has forcefully entered the academic world as the tenet of an imminent restructuring (Li; Lalani 2020).

12 Almost immediately after the lockdown of academic institutions, digital platforms and environments were introduced as the main tools/mediums through which educational and research projects and activities would continue to operate (Li; Lalani 2020). It soon, however, became clear that the turn to digital environments was here to stay, strengthening an already growing competitive market (Castle 2020). This change has

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had severe implications both on the everyday lives of educators, students and researchers, and on the ways in which critical pedagogical and research processes are being affected and re-shaped. The potential educational role of digital technologies and their capacities in establishing more equal and open (access) knowledge production processes are sacrificed in favor of capitalist mass production, institutional hierarchies, as well as a devastating and relentless notion of “normality”.

13 We see four main issues that require our attention in relation to the transition to digital environments. While we are aware of the multi complex processes that shape this change, our focus on these four aspects closely follows our discussion on pause and precarity.

14 First, this new condition implies the production of new subjectivities. What is then at stake here is not merely the “continue-as-normal” dogma, but rather the construction of another one. Based on previously established premises, this new normal is bound to perpetuate and enhance the unequal, neoliberal, and unjust qualities of the “previous” one. These should not be viewed as two separate processes, but as part of the familiar dictum of the crisis as an opportunity (Klein 2020).

15 Second, online education enhances ideas of (social) distancing at the expense of social solidarity and the very principles of pedagogy, which entail informality and sociality as important factors of knowledge, ethics, and critique. According to Brian McKenna (2013), informality is a critical pedagogical tool through which knowledge between students and teachers is shared.

16 Third, as McKenna rightfully points out in his discussion about online education as the “Trojan Horse of Capital”, the question that inevitably arises is who will benefit from this transition.4 In the process of this change, it has also been argued that “casualisation and inequality” could be even more normalized (Ivancheva 2020). Indeed, the way in which the transition to digital environments has been carried out entails inherent inequalities and uneven processes that deepen and normalize precarity.

17 Fourth, we should also consider the spatio-temporal aspect of online education and research. It could be argued that the house as the new workspace, both as an online and offline environment, internal and external at the same time, becomes a new sphere, a new platform, in which bodies are required to be constantly available to work, connect, meet, and interact online. The imperative of constant availability becomes a source of physical and mental fatigue that overtakes everyday life. On the one hand, the continuous pressure to be constantly online, in front of a camera subjected to the scrutinizing gaze of others – with all the gendered, racialized, and able-bodied presuppositions this pressure may imply – destabilizes one’s sense of self and body integrity. On the other, trying to combine digital work with the caring for children, the elderly, or partners in the living-work spaces without any recourse to external help is an overwhelming and exhausting process. In the context of social isolation and digitalization, it can lead to severe exhaustion, tension, and frustration.

On the Desire for Pause

18 The “normality” which is being promoted prefigures that working time occupies the entirety of everyday life. Without being paid for the extra digital labour that we offer, the time spent familiariz ing ourselves with new technologies and practices, and

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without proper digital tools and infrastructures, we are called upon to invest affectively in the digital products of our labour, continuously expanding our working hours without limitations or safety net. In the context of the stay-home policy, the constant connectivity and the call to participate in “the war against COVID-19”, we have been unable to retain basic relations with others. Even when getting sick from the virus, from fatigue, or from the endless hours in front of screens, we were under constant pressure to produce in order to safeguard our (future) survival. For precarious academics like us, any production time is at the same time a process centered on the here and now. On the one hand, it confirms our participation in the academic community; on the other, it somehow safeguards an uncertain future. At a moment when we would have liked to stop in order to become attentive to and understand the situation unfolding before us, to confront our fears and take care of our loved ones (children, parents, partners, friends) as well as ourselves, we are forced to continue producing deliverables and classes, while at the same time preparing applications for research funding and teaching positions hoping to secure future work. In such a state, it is impermissible, if not unacceptable, to be asked by teaching and project coordinators of funding institutions to continue to be equally – if not more – productive, to fight for extensions and try to negotiate a drop of empathy.

19 We don’t believe that this is an ephemeral condition, or that it is irreversible. Nor do we see it as a one-way. Despite their inherent failures, digital technologies harbour the potential of solidarity, interactivity, and open forms of knowledge production. At the same time, though, the transformations introduced by digital technologies are increasingly carried out in the context of a wider process for the expansion of the neoliberal university, where knowledge is produced not as a common good, but as a commercial product whose value is determined by the possibility of its globalized trading. Digital technologies are used in this context for the multiplication of digital products, aiming at the global demand for constantly renewable and available for life- long consumption educational opportunities, and for research projects based on the strict rationale of the logistics of knowledge. Moreover, they enable constant processes of evaluations based on algorithmic control that impose hierarchies in the quality and quantity of publications, researchers, and institutions at a global level. Although there were many resistances to its imposition, ensuring that Greek universities have remained free of student fees and the evaluation of tenured teaching staff, this capitalist model has imposed new forms of precarious teaching and research labour across academic institutions.

20 Acknowledging the double-edged character of digital tools, as tools of connectivity and at the same time as systems of enforcement of power relations, our objective is not to return to normality, to whatever existed before, i.e. to a state-controlled knowledge production governed by the academic hierarchies of the public sector and the unequal power relations between tenured and precarious academics. Neither are we looking forward towards the seemingly more relaxed and “open” knowledge production processes, promoted by EU research institutions.

21 Our desire at present solely concerns time and the pace of everyday life. Our desire is to reclaim the right to pause, which will enable us to reflect on the current conditions we are experiencing. This pause shouldn’t be perceived as an anti-social or unproductive stance. On the contrary, it can be perceived as a process that doesn’t reproduce the contemporary capitalist model of constant production and the flow of consumption,

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but counterpoises alternative social relations: a life, that is less “normal”; a life that fits into the exceptional character of the occasion, even though the return to normality is carried out hastily; a life whose pace is attuned to our needs and the needs of all those around us. The pause that we desire is not an invitation to stasis. It is an ethical stasis towards engaging actively with our bodily and social needs as well as the needs of our co-workers, our comrades, our families, and our partners. It is not a fatalistic stance, but an active refusal to accept and normalize what is currently being imposed on us. It has to do with directing our energy towards an attempt to connect differently with those around us and to respect our bodies that suffer from fatigue and exhaustion not only because of the lockdowns, but mostly due to the constant pressure to be productive. In that sense, the notion of pause also denotes the attempt to harmonize with a different rhythm of life production, one that agrees with our needs for care, sharing, and social comradery, rather than with the requirements of academic institutions that seek to exploit our labour in order to reduce their costs.

22 The pause we desire is also a way of resistance to this newly imposed condition of constant availability and connectivity enabled by the infinite spread of online teaching and research technologies during the COVID-19 pandemic. The entitlement to pause academic activity because of sickness, emergencies, care, or even vacation is not a given right for precarious academics. For the moment we pause, the moment we stop teaching, conducting research or applying for new teaching and research posts, we are left without work, academic credibility or visibility, and inevitably without any social and health insurance. In fact, there are so many multifaceted obstacles surrounding the desire for a pause that discussions of resisting relentless online work are not yet about ambitious and spectacular collective projects such as strikes (a right denied to us as freelance staff)5 or occupations. Instead, our responses to the pressures that we are facing consist of mostly silent acts on an individual level or shared among small groups that could even be misinterpreted as laziness: refusing to complete enormous piles of work; refraining from responding to emails; delaying deliverables; spending time with students to discuss life under COVID-19; and most importantly fighting against internalized urges to send out articles for review, applying for as many projects and teaching positions as possible. Our pauses bring to mind the “I would prefer not to” voiced by Bartleby in Henry Melville’s (1995) short story Bartleby, the Scrivener (see Agamben 1998, Deleuze 1997). Despite their small-scale and benign character, they should not be underestimated for a second, as they considerably undermine our already uncertain and vulnerable positions. As more of us come to learn how to make our small, silent resistances less individualized, guilt-ridden and internalized, we hope that this can become a moment to develop more collectively conceived and implemented pauses to the ever-increasingly digitized and precarious existence in global academia.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY

Agamben, Giorgio (1998). Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life, transl. Daniel Heller-Roazen. Stanford, Stanford University Press.

Agamben, Giorgio (2003). State of Exception, transl. Kevin Attell. Chicago, University of Chicago Press.

Anonymous. “Mitsotakis on 25 March: Our Enemy Now Is the Pandemic”, https:// www.iefimerida.gr/politiki/kyriakos-mitsotakis-25i-martioy-ellines-ygieis, accessed on 20 July 2020. [in Greek]

Castle, Stephen (2020). “Cambridge University Will Hold Its Lectures Online Next Year”, The New York Times 19 May, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/19/world/europe/cambridge-university- coronavirus.html, accessed 20 July 2020.

Deleuze, Gilles (1997). “Bartleby or the Formula”, in Essays Critical and Clinical [Critique et Clinique], transl. Smith, D.W.; Greco, M.A., Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press.

Ivancheva, Mariya P. (2020). “A Perfect Storm: UK Universities, COVID-19 and the Edtech Peril”, Brexit Blog Rosa Luxembourg 21 May https://www.brexitblog-rosalux.eu/2020/05/21/a-perfect- storm-uk-universities-covid-19-and-the-edtech-peril/, accessed 20 July 2020.

Klein, Naomi (2020). “How Big Tech Plans to Profit from the Pandemic”, The Guardian, 13 May https://www.theguardian.com/news/2020/may/13/naomi-klein-how-big-tech-plans-to-profit- from-coronavirus-pandemic, accessed 20 July 2020.

Li, Cathy; Farah, Lalani (2020). “The COVID-19 Pandemic Has Changed Education Forever. This Is How”, Weforum 29 April, https://www.weforum.org/agenda/2020/04/coronavirus-education- global-covid19-online-digital-learning/, accessed 20 July 2020.

McKenna, Brian (2013). “The Predatory Pedagogy of On-Line Education”, Counterpunch 3 June, https://www.counterpunch.org/2013/06/03/the-predatory-pedagogy-of-on-line-education/, accessed on 20 July 2020.

Melville, Herman (1995) [1853]. Bartleby, The Scrivener: A Story of Wall-Street, Minneapolis, Indulgence Press.

Students, University Students, Teaching Staff, Workers and PhD Students in Tele-denial (2020). “Down with Online Education, Online Work and Evaluation. Collective Struggles Against Disciplining”, Athens Indymedia 6 June, https://athens.indymedia.org/post/1605580/, accessed on 20 July 2020.

NOTES

1. Anonymous, “Mitsotakis on 25 March: Our Enemy Now Is the Pandemic”, https:// www.iefimerida.gr/politiki/kyriakos-mitsotakis-25i-martioy-ellines-ygieis, accessed on 20 July 2020. 2. Article 24 of law 4386/2016 (2016) changed the contractual landscape for EU funded researchers, clearly stating that universities and research institutes can give proper employment contracts to EU-funded fellows without any obligation to turn these temporary positions into permanent ones after the completion of the program. And yet, implementing this recently

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established legal framework has not been possible despite the researcher’s efforts and EU pressures. 3. Recently some academic institutions have attributed the long delays in payments to changes in the accounting system of ELKE introduced by law following Troika memoranda. However, the fact that extensive delayed payments were the norm even before the financial debt crisis, underlines how deeply entrenched and normalised academic precarity is in the financing system of Greek academic life. 4. “In the case of online education, the notion of free education is no longer the case given the costs (rent, electricity, water, maintenance, telephone and internet connection, computer) paid by us”. Students, University Students et al, 2020. 5. In the past year there has been an initiative by precarious researchers and teaching staff as well as PhD and MA candidates to create a trade union in order to protect labour rights of precarious academic stuff, ensure proper working conditions, and the right to strike, among others. Updates on their progress can be found on their Facebook page: https:// www.facebook.com/researchers.union/?eid=ARAswKKoC6dRRFIFUEDFvQgKlzgCKldTirTIJZRn- sksLcb5y-KJ3_UCzvtFkPf96SckZfFIT6Ni3spv. Another initiative on labour rights in research in Greece is LABour - Agonistic Intervention in Research: www.labour.gr.

AUTHOR

PRECADEMICS 85.42.1

E: [email protected] W: https://precademics.espivblogs.net/ F: www.facebook.com/precademics

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Faire de la science au Chili : la recherche par projet comme seul horizon

Jeanne Hersant

Jeanne Hersant est professeure assistante du Département de travail social de l'Université pontificale catholique du Chili. Chercheuse titulaire du programme PIA-ANID ANILLO SOC180025 “Women in mathematics in Chile. Sociology of a scientific field from an interdisciplinary and gender perspective”. Chercheuse responsable du projet Fondecyt Regular 1180038 “Justicias reformadas y acceso a la justicia en Chile: sociología del actuar y la recepción judicial (2000-2020)”.

Dernière publication : Sommerlad, Hilary; Clarke, Thomas; Gustaffson, ; Hersant, Jeanne ; Holvast, Nina ; Rebecca Sandefur; Verzelloni, Luca, “Paralegals and the casualisation of legal labour markets” in Abel, Rick; Hammerslev, Ole; Schultz, Ulrike; Sommerlad, Hilary (eds), Lawyers in the Twenty First Century, II, Londres, Hart Publishing (à paraître en 2021).

1 Le Chili se caractérise par l’absence d’une politique scientifique proprement dite : certes le pays dispose depuis les années 1960 de nombreux instruments pour financer la recherche (Mullin et al. 2000) mais ceux-ci ne parviennent pas à pallier l’absence d’une action concertée et planifiée (Huerta 2018), dotée d’une institutionnalité propre. Le tout nouveau ministère des Sciences, de la Technologie, de la Connaissance et et de l’Innovation1, inauguré en 2019, a succédé à une Commission rattachée depuis 1967 au ministère de l’Éducation2. Cette Commission, qui a failli être rattachée au ministère de l’Économie en 2015, fonctionnait surtout comme une agence de moyens et a été incorporée sous un autre nom3 au ministère des Sciences au 1er janvier 2020.

2 Le financement de la recherche au Chili – à peine 0,38 % du PIB national en 2019 (Yañez 2019) contre une moyenne de 2,4 % dans les pays de l’OCDE (Martínes 2018) – mise exclusivement sur la recherche par projet. Cela implique, d’une part, une forte

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dimension appliquée, notamment dans les disciplines qui touchent aux secteurs stratégiques pour l’économie chilienne – extraction minière, pisciculture et agriculture. D’autre part, les projets financés comportent un budget important dédié aux collaborations internationales, en partant du principe que les chercheur.es du pays ont besoin de construire de solides réseaux de collaboration avec des chercheur.e.s étranger.e.s afin de bénéficier d’un transfert de compétences et de connaissances.

3 Dans une telle configuration, il est difficile d’installer des lignes et programmes de recherche de long terme, d’autant que le mode d’évaluation des enseignant.e.s- chercheur.e.s privilégie le productivisme et le court terme et qu’il n’existe pas au Chili une carrière pour les chercheur.e.s en dehors de l’université – à la différence de la France avec le CNRS ou de l’Argentine avec le Conseil national pour la recherche scientifique et technique (CONICET). Le thème du financement de la recherche au Chili est en effet difficilement dissociable de celui des financements des universités : l’État subventionne aussi bien les universités publiques – qui doivent assurer leur autonomie financière – que les universités privées – qui reçoivent parfois bien plus de subventions que les universités publiques. Ce financement se fait en fonction de critères « d’excellence » comme le score des étudiants au concours national d’entrée à l’université (Prueba de Selección Universitaria) et le nombre de publications indexées dans les bases de données Web of Science (Thomson Reuters) et – dans une moindre mesure – Scopus (Elsevier).

4 Ce système de financement et d’évaluation a nécessairement une incidence sur les pratiques de recherche et convertit souvent les activités de recherche en rentes de situation en raison des rémunérations qu’elles impliquent4. Je présenterai tout d’abord en détail le fonctionnement du financement de la recherche par projet, du point de vue des chercheur.e.s qui postulent à ces financements (I). Je décrirai ensuite les principes d’évaluation des chercheur.e.s au Chili (II). Je présenterai en conclusion les pratiques et relations asymétriques qui en découlent entre chercheur.e.s consacré.e.s par l’obtention de fonds de recherche, d’une part, chercheur.e.s précaires et assistant.e.s de recherche (qui ont le statut de « personnel technique »), de l’autre. Mon parti pris ici est moins celui d’une analyse externe que d’un témoignage certes étayé et circonstancié, néanmoins subjectif. Le texte qui suit, par conséquent, n’est pas le résultat d’un processus de recherche systématique, et exprime le point de vue de l’autrice – en tant que femme, chercheuse en sciences sociales, en situation de privilège car travaillant dans l’une des universités les plus prestigieuses d’Amérique latine.

Le fonctionnement de la recherche : le financement par projet

5 La Commission nationale pour la recherche scientifique et technologique (CONICYT) – remplacée depuis le 1er janvier 2020 par l’Agence nationale pour la recherche et le développement (ANID)5 – a été créée en 1967 pour centraliser et étatiser les fonds alloués à la recherche, jusqu’alors attribués au sein des principales universités. Tous les financements de la recherche, depuis les gros financements pluriannuels jusqu’aux allocations de master et doctorat en passant par les contrats postdoctoraux (depuis 2002) sont attribués dans le cadre de concours nationaux. Les principaux concours qui mobilisent les chercheur.e.s chaque année – Fondecyt Regular pour les chercheur.e.s confirmé.e.s et Fondecyt Iniciación pour les jeunes chercheur.e.s (jusqu’à 7 ans après le

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doctorat, plus pour les femmes ayant eu des enfants) existent depuis 1981 et 2006 respectivement.

6 Leur taux de sélection des projets est d’environ 30 % aujourd’hui. Il est certes bien plus élevé que dans d’autres pays comme les États-Unis et la France, mais il masque de profondes disparités. Environ 60 % des projets financés sont mis en œuvre dans la capitale, notamment dans les deux plus grosses universités du pays que sont l’Université du Chili et l’Université Catholique du Chili. Toutes les disciplines entrent en compétition dans ces appels à projet, sans qu’il y ait de critère explicite qui explique les disparités de financement entre les disciplines6. Enfin, outre les disparités régionales, les inégalités de genre sont fortes dans ces projets qui ont souvent un.e porteur.e et unique chercheur.e. Entre 2007 et 2016, le taux de projets sélectionnés portés par une femme est passé de 32% à 38%7. Mais selon les disciplines, la brèche – selon l’expression utilisée en espagnol – est plus ou moins cruelle : en 2019, pour la première fois depuis 30 ans, en mathématiques aucune femme ne s’est vue attribuer un financement « Fondecyt Regular » ; à titre de comparaison pour la période 2013-2016 seuls 13,5 % des fonds Fondecyt Regular ont été attribués à des projets portés par une femme (Cortez & Hersant 2016 : 68). L’obtention d’un de ces financements est pourtant un atout certain pour être recruté8, et surtout un jalon indispensable dans l’avancement de carrière de tout.e chercheur.e, puisqu’ils fonctionnent comme une instance de validation au sein de son institution d’appartenance et au sein de sa discipline (Maillet 2016).

7 Ces deux principaux types de financement – Fondecyt Iniciación et Regular – financent un chercheur et une petite équipe jusqu’à environ 20 000 euros par an (Fondecyt Iniciación) et 60 000 euros par an (Fondecyt Regular) – le montant alloué varie d’un projet à l’autre selon ses caractéristiques et l’évaluation qui en est faite par l’agence de la recherche – pour des périodes de deux à quatre ans. De ces sommes, environ 7 000 euros bruts annuels – 6 250 euros nets selon le régime fiscal en vigueur pour les auto-entrepreneurs9 – sont attribués de plein droit au ou à la porteur.e du projet comme « prime », plus 7 000 euros bruts à répartir entre les chercheur.e.s qui composent son équipe (dans le cas de Fondecyt Regular). Étant donné le relativement bas niveau des salaires dans la plupart des universités, notamment de province, cette prime annuelle équivaut à deux ou trois mois de salaire du ou de la porteur.e de projet. Si le montant est attractif, il ne doit cependant pas faire oublier un aspect central de ce mode de financement : les chercheur.es porteur.e.s de projet deviennent débiteurs.trices de l’agence de la recherche dès lors qu’ils ou elles obtiennent un des deux financements mentionnés (c’est le cas également pour les financements postdoctoraux). En effet, avant de recevoir les montants alloués, ils ou elles doivent signer une reconnaissance de dette (pagaré) à l’institution, par laquelle ils s’engagent à rembourser les sommes dont la déclaration n’est pas validée par l’agence. Les fonds sont ensuite déposés sur un compte bancaire personnel et exclusif que les chercheur.e.s gèrent directement, à charge pour eux ou elles de convaincre leur banque d’ouvrir un compte courant à leur nom. Au Chili, il faut postuler auprès de la banque pour avoir un compte courant (l’équivalent d’un compte chèque) et justifier pour cela d’un certain niveau de revenus. Par défaut, de nombreuses personnes ne peuvent prétendre qu’à un compte d’épargne, modalité non admise par l’agence de la recherche.

8 Pour pouvoir toucher la prime associée au projet financé, les chercheur.e.s doivent se transformer en prestataires de service et facturer ce montant à leur université – selon un artifice juridique puisqu’il est théoriquement impossible de facturer une prestation

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à son employeur et que de toute façon les financements proviennent de l’agence de la recherche. La prestation de service est, de façon générale, le mode de rémunération d’environ 30 % des personnels de la recherche (et en général dans l’administration publique et les collectivités locales), que l’on nomme aussi des « faux salariés » (Stecher ; Sisto 2020) : ils ou elles ont un contrat à durée déterminée avec une entité – ou directement avec le ou la porteur.e du projet qui les rémunère directement – à qui ils présentent une note d’honoraires (boleta de honorarios). Ils ou elles doivent payer 10,7 % des montants perçus à titre d’impôts, et doivent cotiser eux-mêmes auprès de l’assurance-santé et du fonds de retraite. Le statut de prestataire de service associé au paiement par note d’honoraire exonère en effet du paiement des charges sociales par l’employeur – qui théoriquement n’en est pas un puisque cette figure de prestation de service implique qu’il n’existe pas de relation de subordination entre un.e employeur et un.e employé.e. Ce statut est similaire au statut d’auto-entrepreneur tel qu’il a été décrit par Hélène Stevens (2012) ou Sarah Abdelnour (2017).

9 L’agence de la recherche propose également des financements dits « associatifs » – les projets ANILLO ou MILENIO – qui mobilisent des équipes de chercheurs de différentes universités et disciplines, offrent des sommes plus importantes (100 000 euros par an) et font l’objet d’appels à projet spécifiques par aires de connaissance (sciences sociales et humaines, sciences exactes et ingénierie). Il existe aussi des financements dédiés à la recherche appliquée (FONDEF). La plupart de ces fonds sont cumulables. Sans entrer dans le détail, le mécanisme de sélection et d’évaluation est similaire, et la logique sous-jacente est semblable à celle du financement par projet : une prime pour les chercheurs, un pourcentage du financement attribué à l’université du porteur, l’obligation de présenter un ou plusieurs « produits » à l’issue du projet, sous forme d’un ou plusieurs articles (jusqu’à 4) publiés dans des revues indexées à haut facteur d’impact. La différence ici est qu’étant donné l’importance des fonds en jeu, la gestion en est déléguée aux universités – qui ne disposent pas toujours d’unités ad hoc et recourent également fréquemment à la prestation de service.

10 L’obtention de financements est un passage obligé, quitte à les cumuler – ce à quoi les chercheur.e.s sont souvent contraint.e.s ou incité.e.s car une partie de ces financements (environ 10 %) est attribuée à leur université, voire directement à leur unité selon le schéma d’organisation et de gestion propre à chaque université. Dans le Département de travail social qui m’emploie, ces fonds sont notamment utilisés pour payer des enseignants vacataires afin d’alléger la charge d’enseignement des collègues qui obtiennent un financement et libérer ainsi du temps de recherche10. Dans la première université – privée – où j’ai travaillé, de 2011 à 2013, ces 10 % étaient reversés à chaque chercheur selon la modalité de l’« overhead », une prime non imposable en somme, qui venait s’ajouter aux honoraires prévus par l’agence de la recherche. Désormais, les universités doivent justifier l’usage qu’elles font de ces financements attribués au titre des « frais administratifs ». Dans la seconde université où j’ai travaillé de 2013 à 2018, une université publique, les 10 % rapportés par chaque projet étaient administrés par l’université comme une source de revenus supplémentaire et les chercheurs qui en étaient à l’origine ne pouvaient y prétendre, ne serait-ce que pour renouveler leur chaise de bureau.

11 La modalité de financement interne de la recherche n’a pas disparu : face à la compétitivité croissante des fonds attribués par l’agence de la recherche, nombre d’universités disposent de fonds internes – qui n’incluent pas le paiement d’honoraires

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– mais cette modalité est loin d’avoir le prestige des fonds de l’agence de la recherche, et ne pèse pas du tout de la même façon dans l’évaluation et l’avancement de carrière. Les financements internes sont plutôt conçus comme un tremplin vers un financement externe plus prestigieux, dont l’obtention est cruciale pour l’avancement de carrière des enseignant.e.s chercheur.e.s. Je présenterai maintenant les processus d’évaluation interne et externe, et leur place dans les évolutions de carrière.

La double évaluation de la performance des chercheur.e.s

12 Dans son ouvrage sur Les dérives de l’évaluation de la recherche, Yves Gingras (2014) pointait la façon dont les indicateurs bibliométriques se sont ajoutés à des évaluations déjà fort nombreuses pour les enseignant.e.s chercheur.e.s, et comment ces indicateurs ont accompagné un processus d’évaluation de plus en plus présent au sein même des universités, en plus de l’évaluation du travail scientifique par les revues et les instances de financement de la recherche. Au Chili, cette forme d’évaluation de la « performance » des enseignant.e.s chercheur.e.s est tout à fait installée, qui doivent souvent s’engager, en amont, sur un plan annuel d’activités et d’objectifs. La publication d’articles scientifiques dans des revues indexées et la soumission de candidatures à des appels à projets de la recherche en sont les principaux items.

L’évaluation interne des performances annuelles

13 L’obtention de financements est un passage obligé, on l’a vu, dans la carrière d’un.e enseignant.e-chercheur.e ; il n’est d’ailleurs pas anodin que dans les évaluations de carrière, l’activité « recherche » et l’activité « publications » soient évalués sous des rubriques séparées. Cela n’est pas du tout intuitif pour quelqu’un d’extérieur au contexte chilien, puisque les publications découlent de la recherche. Or, dans l’item « recherche » n’est évaluée que la participation à des projets ou, mieux, la capacité à obtenir un financement en tant que porteur.e de projet. Quant aux publications, elles ne sont évaluées le plus souvent qu’à travers une grille qui attribue un certain nombre de points aux revues selon leur indexation (Web of Science obtenant toujours le maximum de points) et leur facteur d’impact, quand bien même celui-ci n’indique absolument rien de la qualité des articles qui y sont publiés (Gingras 2014 ; Koch ; Vanderstraeten 2019). Ces critères sont souvent calqués sur ceux qu’utilise l’agence chilienne de la recherche dans son évaluation des CV des postulants, et équivalent en pratique à une injonction à publier en anglais ou du moins hors du Chili. Les bases de données bibliométriques hispanophones et latinoaméricaines (Scielo, Latindex) sont peu valorisées : seules 47 revues publiées au Chili sont indexées dans la base de données Web of Science, toutes disciplines confondues (Koch ; Vanderstraeten 2019 : 724)11. En sciences sociales et humaines, elles se comptent sur les doigts d’une main. Cette énorme pression à l’internationalisation et à la publication « indexée » a eu pour résultat d’importantes modifications dans les pratiques de publications des chercheur.e.s du Chili dans les 40 dernières années et la proportion d’auteur.e.s. chilien.ne.s dans la base de données WoS est passée de 0,10 % en 1976 à 0,34 % en 2015 (Koch, Vanderstraeten 2019 : 727). Cela n’en reste pas moins une injonction fortement discriminatoire pour les chercheur.e.s les moins bien doté.e.s en ressources ou capital

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propre, pour affronter le coût d’une publication en anglais et les délais de publication dans les revues les plus prestigieuses. Celles et ceux qui peuvent se le permettre sont déjà dans une position confortée au sein de leur unité.

14 Enfin, un effet pervers de ce système dans les universités de second rang du moins – lié à une vision positiviste de la qualité de la recherche mais également, on l’a vu, aux nécessités pour les universités d’obtenir des financements de l’État sur la base du nombre d’articles indexés qu’elles publient – est une course à la publication indexable par WoS, peu importe la qualité de la revue. En effet, l’évaluation des chercheur.e.s n’est qu’une face de la médaille. Afin d’inciter leurs chercheur.e.s à publier dans des revues indexées, la plupart des universités au Chili ont un système de primes pour chaque article publié12. Selon les universités, les disciplines et le facteur d’impact ou « quartile » de la revue, la prime versée peut aller de 1 500 à près de 3 000 euros. Dans les disciplines où l’on publie beaucoup, comme les sciences biologiques, les primes versées aux chercheur.e.s publiant.e.s peuvent donc atteindre des montants considérables, et ne sont pas toujours plafonnées. Enfin, il est impossible d’obtenir un financement de l’agence de la recherche sans un certain nombre d’articles indexés – le nombre dépend du prestige de l’indexation – au cours des cinq années précédentes (pour les femmes, ce délai augmente d’un an par enfant de moins de cinq ans). La boucle est bouclée, et cette course aux publications génère des pratiques peu regardantes envers l’éthique scientifique. Dans l’une des universités où j’ai travaillé, un programme de master incitait explicitement – par courrier électronique – les chercheur.e.s du Centre d’études avancées de l’Université (sans obligation d’enseignement) à diriger des mémoires avec l’argument suivant : la perspective de co- signer un article avec leurs étudiants et de leur faire signer un document par lequel ceux-ci renoncent à leur droit d’auteur, pour pouvoir ainsi toucher la totalité de la prime par article (la prime doit être partagée lorsque l’article est publié par des co- auteurs de la même institution). Cette même université a été témoin d’un scandale de plagiat d’un mémoire d’un étudiant de premier cycle par son directeur de mémoire. Deux autres personnes ont été impliquées puis – paradoxalement – blanchies (aussi bien dans le cadre de la procédure interne que devant la justice civile) : dans le cadre d’un arrangement à trois où les auteurs s’invitaient mutuellement dans leur production, ces deux personnes n’avaient fait « que » co-signer l’article plagiaire, sans en être réellement autrices, ni être informées du plagiat.

L’évaluation externe par les pairs pour l’obtention de financements de l’agence de la recherche

15 Pour pouvoir avoir une chance d’obtenir un financement de l’agence de la recherche, il faut en premier lieu avoir un CV « compétitif » : l’un des critères de l’évaluation est la viabilité du projet, et le registre de publications compte au moins autant que la solidité du projet. Pour les financements les plus importants, les projets sont soumis et évalués en anglais ; ce n’est pas le cas des projets de type Fondecyt qui doivent être soumis en anglais seulement dans le cas des sciences dites exactes. Pour les sciences sociales et humaines, le projet peut être soumis en anglais ou espagnol, il sera évalué par défaut au Chili à moins que les postulant.e.s ne suggèrent des évaluateurs étrangers.

16 Le processus d’évaluation organisé par l’agence de la recherche, crucial pour l’obtention d’un financement, est souvent lapidaire et discrétionnaire. En premier lieu,

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la liste des publications donne aux postulant.e.s un score qui compte jusqu’à 30 % dans la note finale (pour Fondecyt Regular). En Sociologie et Communications, chaque article publié rapporte un certain nombre de points en fonction de l’indexation de la revue et de son facteur d’impact, peu importe la réputation de la revue au sein d’un groupe de spécialistes13. À titre d’exemple, une revue comme Sociologie du Travail, qui bénéficie d’un grand prestige dans son domaine, mais a délibérément quitté le portail Elsevier pour l’accès ouvert, ne rapporterait aucun point. En ce qui concerne l’évaluation du projet, il ne s’agit pas d’une évaluation à l’aveugle : le nom et CV des postulant.e.s sont connus, mais l’identité des évaluateurs.trices n’est jamais dévoilée. La grille d’évaluation fait foi, et si les évaluateurs.trices doivent justifier la note qu’ils appliquent à chaque section, ils peuvent le faire en un ou deux paragraphes. Il est plutôt rare, dans ce processus, de recevoir une évaluation circonstanciée. Les règles d’attribution des évaluateurs.trices sont peu transparentes, et ceux ou celles-ci doivent s’engager à la confidentialité au sujet des projets qu’ils évaluent. Les sciences sociales et humaines souffrent indéniablement de leur manque d’internationalisation, et de la petite taille de la communauté scientifique au Chili même. Ce système d’évaluation favorise en effet, ou du moins ne sanctionne pas, les jeux de pouvoir et de réseaux ou les jugements à l’emporte-pièce. L’extrait ci-dessous du post d’un collègue sur les réseaux sociaux – que je reproduis de façon anonyme avec l’accord de celui-ci – illustre ce double problème : d’une part, le manque de spécialistes sur des sujets ou aires « marginaux » ; d’autre part, le mécontentement et l’incompréhension qui dominent souvent à la lecture des rapports d’évaluation : « Troisième projet […] sur la philosophie arabe médiévale qu’on nous refuse. Cette fois, c’est pire que les précédentes : deux évaluations nous ont attribué le score maximum (les évaluations internationales14 apparemment) et une troisième un score vraiment bas. Pourtant, le pire n’est pas cette mauvaise note, plutôt les fautes d’orthographe dans le rapport de l’évaluateur en question, qui écrit « Khun » au lieu de « Kuhn » ou qui se réfère à « Sanchez Nogales » au lieu de Gómez Nogales (le spécialiste espagnol de philosophie arabe) […]. En plus de tout ça, il argumente que puisque nous ne sommes pas « spécialistes » (peu importe que nous ayons travaillé sur divers aspects de la philosophie arabe depuis 2007 entre groupes de recherche, enseignements et colloques) nous ne pouvons pas mener de recherches sur le sujet. Pire : il en appelle au manque de citations de « spécialistes » sans voir que le projet ne cite peut-être pas ses amis spécialistes mais de nombreux autres (français, italiens, allemands, etc.). L’évaluateur insiste sur le fait que nous n’utilisons pas de sources arabisantes pour nous référer à un certains « Suhravard » (j’imagine qu’il parle de Sohravardi), alors que toute la bibliographie que nous utilisons sur cet auteur est bilingue (arabe-anglais). Pour couronner le tout, il signale un membre de l’équipe comme non spécialiste seulement parce qu’il a obtenu un doctorat en Histoire en Allemagne et pas un doctorat en philosophie arabe. Tout cela est imprésentable ».

17 Au-delà du dépit d’un collègue, cet extrait met en évidence les aspects quantitatifs et parfois discrétionnaires de l’évaluation des projets de recherche. Un projet peut recevoir deux excellentes appréciations et une catastrophique, il sera défavorisé par rapport à un autre projet qui aura reçu des évaluations moins enthousiastes mais moins divergentes : c’est une logique arithmétique qui prévaudra en faisant la moyenne des notes. Les commentaires et rapports d’évaluation sont souvent considérés comme ayant valeur d’illustration : les membres des comités qui coordonnent l’évaluation et classent les projets se réservent le droit de couper les commentaires et n’en transmettre qu’une partie aux candidat.e.s. Pour certains financements, comme les

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bourses de master ou de doctorat, auxquels je participe comme évaluatrice depuis 2016, laisser un commentaire pour justifier la note attribuée à chaque item est devenu obligatoire en 2018, mais ces commentaires ne peuvent excéder un certain nombre de signes et sont proposés de façon prédéfinie aux évaluateurs.trices, sous la forme de phrases toutes faites, afin de « gagner du temps ». Enfin, ce que signale le post cité, est l’importance parfois disproportionnée que prennent les stratégies de citation : elles doivent comporter une dimension scientifique et une dimension politique afin de montrer l’insertion du ou de la postulant.e dans les « bons » réseaux.

Conclusion

18 Dans cet article, j’ai mis l’accent sur le financement et la division du travail scientifique ; il eut été tout aussi pertinent d’inclure le fonctionnement des comités d’éthique universitaires comme autre pierre de l’édifice du fonctionnement et du financement de la recherche au Chili. En effet, tout projet financé par l’agence de la recherche doit impérativement être validé par un comité d’éthique universitaire. Cette évaluation se fait souvent à travers une grille, non pas de points cette fois, mais plutôt sous la forme d’une « check list ». Or, à l’image des protocoles d’éthique de médecine et biologie, ceux-ci comportent une liste prédéfinie de conditions sous lesquelles les entretiens seront menés, où la recherche sera réalisée, l’échantillon des personnes interviewées et des preuves que les autorisations institutionnelles ont bien été accordées (Dequirez ; Hersant 2013 : 647).

19 Enfin, nul besoin d’être spécialiste en théorie du don pour saisir intuitivement le type de relations de subordination et d’obligations qui se nouent autour de ces projets de recherche, dans un contexte où la majorité des chercheur.e.s connaissent la précarité professionnelle en travaillant comme prestataire de services, sans contrat stable. Les prestigieux Fondecyt Regular, Anillo, Milenio, convertissent les chercheur.e.s en chercheur.e.s confirmé.e.s aux yeux de leurs pairs, mais aussi et surtout en entrepreneurs de projets et pourvoyeurs de ressources pour les collègues qu’ils invitent à y participer et pour les assistants de recherche qu’ils recrutent. Le travail du « personnel technique » en particulier est très peu régulé, et il n’y a pas de rémunération minimum garantie. Ce mode de financement de la recherche contribue sans nul doute à la permanence d’une division du travail très marquée dans les sciences sociales chiliennes, où les chercheur.e.s se consacrent à la gestion de projet (postuler et gérer ces projets occupe un temps considérable) et à la tâche noble de mettre en forme des notes de terrain, en les articulant au cadre théorique, pour rédiger des articles. Le travail de terrain et la collecte et analyse de données est encore trop souvent considérée comme une tâche subalterne qui doit être déléguée – le « sale boulot » ou « dirty work » utilement conceptualisé par Everett Hugues (1971).

20 S’il y a des enseignements à tirer de la situation de la science au Chili, commençons par reconnaître avec Antoine Maillet (2016) la grande vertu de concours ouverts et horizontaux pour obtenir des bourses (de master et doctorat, pour étudier au Chili ou à l’étranger) et financements à tous les stades de la trajectoire universitaire. Ce système de financement – qui a notamment permis à des milliers de Chilien.ne.s de réaliser un doctorat à l’étranger – a sans conteste contribué à enrichir et professionnaliser les sciences sociales, dont le paysage aujourd’hui est beaucoup plus varié qu’il ne l’était à mon arrivée dans le pays en 2011. Cela étant, l’exclusivité donnée à la recherche par

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projet, ainsi que le fonctionnement du financement et de l’évaluation de la recherche tels que je les ai exposés ici mettent en évidence les risques que comportent l’importation en France d’une telle logique pour l’organisation sociale des universités et le processus de production des connaissances, dont la richesse repose justement sur la reconnaissance du temps long dans la mise en place des dynamiques propres à la recherche scientifique.

BIBLIOGRAPHIE

Abdelnour, Sarah (2017). Moi, petite entreprise : les auto-entrepreneurs, de l’utopie à la réalité, Paris, PUF.

Cortez, María Isabel ; Hersant, Jeanne (2016). “Femmes et mathématiques au Chili”, Synergie Chili, 12, pp. 59-71.

Dequirez, Gaëlle ; Hersant, Jeanne (2013). “The virtues of improvisation: ethnography without an ethics protocol”, Current Sociology 61 (5-6), pp. 446-460.

Gingras, Yves (2014). Les dérives de l’évaluation de la recherche. Du bon usage de la bibliométrie, Paris, Raisons d’Agir.

Huerta, Luis (2018). “Una política científica para Chile, ¡ahora!”, El Mostrador, 20.04.18. URL: https://www.elmostrador.cl/noticias/opinion/2018/04/20/una-politica-cientifica-para-chile- ahora/

Hughes, Everett (1971). The sociological eye: selected papers, New Brunswick: Transaction Books.

Koch, Tomás; Vanderstraeten, Raf (2019). “Internationalizing a national scientific community? Changes in publication and citation practices in Chile, 1976-2015”, Current Sociology 67 (5), pp. 723-741.

Maillet, Antoine (2016). “¿Politización de Fondecyt ? Un poco de seriedad por favor”, El Mostrador, 18.03.2016. URL: https://www.elmostrador.cl/noticias/pais/2016/03/18/politizacion- de-fondecyt-un-poco-de-seriedad-por-favor/

Martínes, Francisco (2018). “¿A dónde vamos Chile?”, Revista ¿Qué pasa?, 26.10.2018. URL: https://www.latercera.com/que-pasa/noticia/a-donde-vamos-chile/377075/

Mullin, J., Adam, R., Halliwell, J., Milligan, L. (2000). Science, Technology and Innovation and Chile, Ottawa: International Development Research Centre.

Stecher, Alejandro; Sisto, Vicente (2020). “Trabajo y precarización laboral en el Chile neoliberal. Apuntes para comprender el estallido social de octubre del 2019”, in Araujo, Kathya (ed), Hilos tensados: para leer el Octubre chileno, Santiago, Editorial de la Universidad de Santiago de Chile, pp. 37-82.

Stevens, Hélène (2012). « Le régime de l’auto-entrepreneur, une alternative désirable au salariat ? », Savoir/Agir, 3 (21), pp. 21-28.

Yañez, Cecilia (2019). “Ministro de Ciencia y financiamiento científico en Chile: ‘La discusión sobre el 0,38% del PIB me parece obsoleta”, Revista ¿Qué pasa?, 26.04.2019. URL: https://

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www.latercera.com/que-pasa/noticia/ministro-ciencia-financiamiento-cientifico-chile-la- discusion-038-del-pib-me-parece-absurda/631724/

NOTES

1. Ministerio de Ciencia, Tecnología, Conocimiento e Innovación. Voir “Le Chili se dote pour la première fois d’un ministère des Sciences », Courrier International, 08.06.2018. URL : https:// www.courrierinternational.com/article/le-chili-se-dote-pour-la-premiere-fois-dun-ministere- des-sciences 2. Comisión Nacional de Investigación Científica y Tecnológica (CONICYT). 3. Agencia Nacional de Investigación y Desarrollo (ANID). 4. Dans un souci d’honnêteté, il convient de préciser que l’autrice de ces lignes se trouve elle- même dans cette situation puisqu’elle cumule les honoraires associés à deux projets de recherche dont elle est porteuse pour la période 2018-2021. Ces honoraires totalisent environ 11 000 euros bruts annuels (le cumul est autorisé jusqu’à 12 000 euros bruts annuels) ; cela correspond à environ 5 mois de salaire additionnels étant donné que je travaille dans un département de travail social, où les salaires sont parmi les plus bas dans mon université. Cela ne correspond qu’à 3 mois de salaire, selon le stade de sa carrière, d’un enseignant chercheur d’une faculté d’Ingénierie. Mais ce n’est bien sûr qu’une estimation puisque les universités privées ne rendent pas publiques leurs grilles de salaires. Il n’y a pas de statut national pour les enseignant.e.s chercheur.e.s : chaque université définit l’échelon et la grille de salaires de ses enseignant.e.s- chercheur.e.s. Seules les universités publiques, comme le reste de l’administration, ont l’obligation de rendre publiques les rémunérations de leurs fonctionnaires. Dans les universités privées, la grille est modulable selon les facultés et leur « valeur » sur le marché du travail. 5. Dans la suite du texte, j’utiliserai le terme générique d’agence de la recherche, puisqu’en l’occurrence le changement de dénomination ne correspond pas à un changement de politique publique et les modalités d’attribution des financements de recherche sont restées inchangées. 6. Que l’on peut visualiser ici pour la période 2014-19 à travers cette infographie qui représente la répartition des financements par année, discipline, université et en fonction des montants alloués : https://app.powerbi.com/view? r=eyJrIjoiMWEwMDUwODUtNGZlYi00M2IyLWJjY2YtMjEzYTczOGM5Yjg3IiwidCI6ImU3M2FmMWRlLWU5ZTYtNGM0OS1iMWUxLWZjNjg3ZjM2MjY0NyIsImMiOjR9 7. CONICYT, Participación femenina en programas de Conicyt 2007-2016. Departamento de Estudios y Gestión Estratégica, 2017, p. 19. URL: https://app.powerbi.com/view? r=eyJrIjoiMWEwMDUwODUtNGZlYi00M2IyLWJjY2YtMjEzYTczOGM5Yjg3IiwidCI6ImU3M2FmMWRlLWU5ZTYtNGM0OS1iMWUxLWZjNjg3ZjM2MjY0NyIsImMiOjR9 8. Il faut théoriquement être en poste pour obtenir ces financements, puisqu’ils requièrent le parrainage d’une institution. Mais il est de plus en plus fréquent, au moins depuis 2012, que les universités conditionnent une embauche – ne serait-ce qu’à mi-temps – à l’obtention d’un Fondecyt Iniciación, voire qu’elles ne s’engagent à rien d’autre qu’au parrainage du ou de la candidate, ce qui est un détournement de ces appels à projet puisque les universités reçoivent un pourcentage du financement du projet au titre des frais d’administration ou gestion que ceux-ci peuvent induire. 9. Je reviens plus bas sur la figure de la « prestation de services ». 10. Le service d’enseignement est souvent modulable en fonction des heures de recherche, attribuées en fonction du nombre de projets financés par l’agence de la recherche dont disposent les chercheur.e.s. 11. Il est impossible de connaître précisément le nombre de revues au Chili, car elles ne sont pas toutes référencées. La base de données Scielo en dénombre plus de 130, toutes disciplines confondues : https://scielo.conicyt.cl/scielo.php?lng=es&script=sci_subject

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12. À l’exception de l’Université du Chili et de l’Université catholique du Chili. Dans cette dernière, il existe un système de prime à la productivité scientifique, pour un montant bien inférieur (environ 500 euros), à laquelle les chercheur.e.s peuvent prétendre tous les deux ans. 13. En mathématiques, en revanche, les revues sont classées sur le mode du classement du HCERES français, à la différence que le classement inclut les revues de différents pays. 14. Dans l’idiosyncrasie de la recherche au Chili, l’adjectif « international » se réfère à tout ce qui est extérieur au Chili dans les activités scientifiques et de valorisation de la recherche. Un séminaire « international » est un séminaire qui comporte au moins un.e intervenant.e d’une université étrangère.

AUTEUR

JEANNE HERSANT

Université catholique du Chili [email protected]

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Qu’est-ce qui motive l’enseignant- chercheur ?

Aslıhan Aykaç Yanardağ Traduction : Jean-François Pérouse

Cet article est paru dans le quotidien en ligne Gazeteduvar le 18 février 2020, sous le titre “Akademisyeni ne teşvik eder?” URL: https://www.gazeteduvar.com.tr/ forum/2020/02/18/akademisyeni-ne-tesvik-eder/

1 En 2015 le Conseil de l’enseignement supérieur turc (YÖK) a lancé un programme d’incitations1 dans le but de stimuler la production universitaire et de récompenser les enseignants-chercheurs les plus productifs. Depuis, conformément à ce programme, les enseignants-chercheurs ont été évalués chaque année en fonction d’une série d’indicateurs allant de la participation à des rencontres scientifiques aux publications réalisées, des brevets détenus aux distinctions obtenues pour leurs travaux, des projets achevés à la fréquence des citations de leurs publications ; et sur cette base, les enseignants-chercheurs ont bénéficié de primes d’incitation à la recherche. Cependant ce programme, introduit comme toujours dans la précipitation et insuffisamment réfléchi, a eu plus d’effets négatifs que positifs.

2 Le premier problème soulevé par ce système d’incitation à la recherche a trait à la mesure et à l’évaluation des activités universitaires. Dans le système actuel par points, comme sorti d’un jeu électronique, plus vous tuez de monstres plus vous gagnez de points. Parfois vos camarades vous donnent des vies supplémentaires ou bien vous font cadeau de points. Et bien dans le monde universitaire, c’est devenu tout à fait la même chose. On s’échange des bons services, en ajoutant sur un projet le nom de celui qui vous a ajouté sur le sien, on présente comme une publication commune un travail qui n’a pas été collectif, on se cite les uns les autres ; ainsi s’est créé un marché des points sur l’ensemble des opérations qui en rapportent, toutes liées les unes aux autres.

3 Dans le champ des sciences sociales en tout cas, celui qui écrit beaucoup est devenu plus coté que celui qui écrit moins et privilégie la qualité. Écrire des articles est considéré comme plus efficace et plus valorisé qu’écrire des livres. Le fonctionnement

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de la recherche par projets s’étant imposé, ceux qui travaillent dans le champ des sciences sociales et humaines et qui n’ont pas la possibilité de décrocher des brevets ou ont, comparativement aux sciences plus dures, moins de chances de bénéficier d’un projet de recherche, sont passablement marginalisés dans ce système de points. Cela constitue le troisième problème inhérent au système d’incitation. L’abondance des opportunités de publication dans le domaine des sciences dures, de l’ingénierie et de la médecine, la multiplicité des sujets de projets reposant sur la collaboration université/ industrie, et le caractère très concret des résultats innovants de la recherche appliquée laissent indiquer que ce système a été conçu pour ces disciplines. Cela a pour effet de déprécier de plus en plus les sciences sociales ou les sciences humaines comme par exemple la littérature ou la philosophie, et d’entraîner une chute de la motivation dans ces domaines.

4 Les dysfonctionnements du système universitaire d’incitations ont des effets secondaires nombreux. Ce système a eu pour effet de créer un marché des points. Et désormais, il existe des maisons d’édition, des revues et des bureaux de traduction qui ne travaillent que pour ce marché et qui s’efforcent en permanence d’attirer le client en recourant à la publicité. Ainsi, chaque jour, notre boîte-mail est encombrée de messages pleins de slogans du type « Nos publications sont conformes au programme d’incitation universitaire 2020 » ou « Vos traductions seront achevées dans les meilleurs délais avec toutes les garanties des publications internationales ». Et puis il y a les congrès, les conférences et les symposiums ; au cours des voyages « tout compris » dans les Balkans, au Monténégro ou en Hongrie, vous pouvez à la fois voir du pays, faire une communication et récolter des points bons pour le système : d’une pierre, plusieurs coups ! Là-bas, pour ces soi-disant activités universitaires, votre travail est facilité par le fait que le label « Conforme au système d’incitation » est a priori garanti. Depuis un bon moment, les universités soutiennent sur leur budget la participation de leur personnel enseignant à ce genre d’activités sans en regarder la qualité.

5 Il y a un autre effet externe qui se fait sentir surtout dans le processus d’enseignement des universités. Ceux qui donnent la priorité à la recherche en vue de bénéficier du système d’incitation sont obligés de négliger la dimension enseignement de l’université, compte tenu de la charge de travail croissante. Les contenus des cours ne sont pas renouvelés, les heures dues ne sont pas entièrement et efficacement assurées. Comme si toutes ces tâches d’enseignement ne faisaient pas partie du travail de l’universitaire, comme si les heures de cours pourtant obligatoires n’importaient nullement.

La valeur de la production universitaire

6 Ce que nous venons d’expliquer jusque-là avait trait aux conséquences pour l’université du système d’encouragement universitaire. Au-delà, l’affaire possède une dimension relative aux formes de travail. Le système d’encouragement est fondamentalement un système de prime. S’il fallait l’expliquer par une comparaison simple, les personnes qui travaillent dans le secteur de la vente touchent des primes indexées sur les ventes réalisées ou sur les clients conquis, en plus du salaire fixe/plancher généralement très peu élevé. Cela a deux conséquences. La première est que comme chaque travailleur est payé à la mesure du travail fourni, ce système pousse à travailler davantage. C’est la raison pour laquelle le plus souvent les salaires planchers les plus bas sont tenus à un niveau qui ne permet pas de faire face aux dépenses de la vie courante du travailleur.

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Deuxième conséquence : quand il y a des variations du marché, par exemple quand la demande diminue et que les travailleurs ne sont plus en mesure de toucher des primes aussi élevées qu’auparavant, les entreprises font supporter aux travailleurs le poids de la réduction des marges bénéficiaires.

7 L’application du système de prime au personnel universitaire a accru l’insécurité. Et il ne s’agit pas seulement d’une insécurité quant aux revenus. En effet, étant donné que les processus de nomination et de promotion dans les universités sont soumis aux mêmes critères que ceux qui président au programme d’incitation, la sécurité de l’emploi n’existe plus. Or la production universitaire n’est pas soumise aux fluctuations de la demande du marché, c’est une accumulation progressive. Ce processus de construction peut ne pas se dérouler toujours à la même vitesse et à la même intensité. Au fur et à mesure que l’on apprend et que l’accumulation s’opère, la production augmente. Aussi mettre en parallèle le processus de production scientifique avec le mode capitaliste de production, mesurer la valeur universitaire avec les critères du marché, dire à l’enseignant-chercheur « Plus tu feras d’articles et plus tu auras de l’argent » ne constitue pas une approche très évoluée. Le système universitaire dans son état actuel subit une érosion de ses valeurs. La quantité prime sur la qualité. D’un côté, on se vante « d’avoir plus d’étudiants à l’université qu’en Allemagne », et d’un autre côté, on entend dire « Il ne faut pas que n’importe qui accède à l’université ». Le système est comme un puzzle instable : on change de place ses pièces en permanence, on essaie en permanence de nouvelles combinations.

Qu’est-ce qui motive l’enseignant-chercheur?

8 C’est la pensée libre qui motive le plus l’enseignant-chercheur. C’est un environnement où sa curiosité peut s’en donner à cœur-joie, où il peut aisément à la fois accéder au savoir et apporter sa contribution à la construction de ce savoir. Un environnement où il n’est pas traîné devant la justice pour ses écrits et publications, où il n’est pas fiché par les autorités, où il n’est pas sous contrainte et où il ne s’expose pas à des accusations pour avoir exprimé son opinion quelle qu’elle soit. Ce qui motive, c’est de ne pas être contraint de se faire l’agent confirmateur de l’idéologie dominante ou du système politique existant, c’est autrement dit de se sentir tenu de produire uniquement en fonction d’un environnement scientifique et d’arguments scientifiques. Les dirigeants qui disent « Nous vous donnons un salaire de professeur alors ne serait- ce que pour cela… », « Je te le dis en camarade et pour ton bien, cesse d’utiliser les réseaux sociaux… » ne motivent guère. La valeur scientifique ne se produit pas en orientant de force dans telle ou telle direction l’activité de recherche au moyen de pressions et par la peur.

9 Si nous en revenons aux aspects matériels du problème, plutôt que d’en faire une question de revenu personnel indexé à la performance individuelle, il faut le penser, dans l’objectif de créer un véritable environnement scientifique, comme la garantie d’un bien commun minimum rendant possible la production scientifique à venir. De la sorte, on pourrait inciter les chercheurs à produire à travers de vraies collaborations, et non pas à mettre leurs noms côte à côte ou à se rendre la pareille pour les projets dans le seul but d’obtenir plus de points. Et l’utilisation des ressources et des fonds de roulement des universités en vue de constituer l’infrastructure indispensable à la recherche scientifique constituerait en soi un encouragement à la recherche. Pouvoir

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trouver à la bibliothèque le livre que l’on souhaite au lieu de l’acheter, disposer d’une infrastructure matérielle propice au travail, avoir à sa disposition sans avoir à se battre tout l’équipement technique requis, toutes ces possibilités constituent le meilleur encouragement qui soit. Il faut les considérer non pas comme des faveurs consenties par l’université, mais comme une précondition au travail scientifique.

NOTES

1. Si le terme teşvik désigne les incitations ou actions incitatives matérielles et symboliques développées par un État pour parvenir à des objectifs fixés, il peut aussi renvoyer à l’encouragement ou à la motivation.

AUTEURS

ASLIHAN AYKAÇ YANARDAĞ Ege Üniversitesi, Izmir, département de Relations Internationales

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Témoignage d’un universitaire « agitateur d’idées » en France et en Turquie

Ahmet Insel, Élise Massicard et Özgür Türesay

De la Turquie vers la France...

1 Pouvez-vous donner votre impression de vos années estudiantines à Paris ? Avec le recul, pensez- vous qu’il s’agissait de l’âge d’or de l’université française ? Pensez-vous que votre expérience estudiantine personnelle est représentative du paysage universitaire français de l’époque, ou diriez-vous plutôt que vous étiez dans un environnement privilégié ou défavorisé ?

2 Je suis arrivé en France fin septembre 1973. Je venais d’être diplômé du lycée Galatasaray. À l’époque les ressortissants de Turquie n’avaient pas besoin de visa pour venir en France. Deux jours après mon arrivée, je me suis inscrit à Paris I. L’inscription à l’université en France ne nécessitait aucune démarche préalable pour les étudiants étrangers, ni pour les titulaires du bac en France. Les cours ont commencé la seconde quinzaine d’octobre à Tolbiac qui venait d’ouvrir ses portes pour cette année universitaire.

3 J’ai été formé par la culture soixante-huitarde tardive qui régnait à l’époque dans ce nouveau centre universitaire atypique. Cette culture était présente non seulement chez les étudiants avec de multiples organisations syndicales et politiques présentes en permanence dans le hall d’entrée, à côté des marchands ambulants de toute sorte – il n’y avait pas de restau-U dans le centre –, mais aussi parmi la plupart des enseignants et du personnel administratif. L’université apprenait la cogestion avec des conseils de gestion mixtes (enseignants, administratifs et étudiants élus), conformément aux nouveaux statuts de la loi Edgar Faure. Après l’éclatement de la Sorbonne en cinq universités en 1969, à Paris I s’étaient regroupés majoritairement les enseignants de gauche et à Paris II et Paris IV ceux qui avaient des sympathies à droite. Il y avait une tension permanente et des affrontements réguliers entre les militants d’extrême-droite contrôlant Paris II – Assas et ceux de gauche contrôlant Paris I, notamment le centre

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Tolbiac. Une défiance très forte de la hiérarchie, un refus des cérémonies pompeuses, une culture de contestation des savoirs établis étaient partagés par la majorité des étudiants et des jeunes enseignants soixante-huitards à Paris I.

4 Malgré le choc économique lié à l’augmentation brutale du prix du pétrole en 1974, nous n’étions pas du tout inquiets pour notre avenir. Nous étions encore dans l’élan des Trente Glorieuses. Le chômage, les difficultés pour trouver un emploi à l’avenir n’étaient pas des sujets d’inquiétude ou de préoccupation. En tout cas pour la majorité d’entre nous. Il y avait peu d’étudiants issus des milieux défavorisés parmi nous à Paris I. La très grande majorité était issue des familles de la classe moyenne ou moyenne-inférieure. Le taux d’accès à l’enseignement supérieur par classe d’âge était encore faible à l’époque, environ 25%. Le volume horaire annuel de l’enseignement était bien plus faible que les programmes mis en place à partir des années 1990. L’engouement pour les filières sélectives au détriment de l’université était plus faible, il concernait seulement les classes préparatoires aux grandes écoles. Je ne peux pas dire que les années 1970 étaient l’âge d’or de l’université française. L’université avait peu de moyens à l’époque, surtout les universités de sciences sociales au sens large. Très peu de financement de la recherche, très peu de financement des études doctorales. Les filières de sciences dures mises à part, les partenariats université-CNRS étaient peu développés. Les bibliothèques étaient archaïques et insuffisantes, etc. Évidemment ce constat je le fais a posteriori, ce n’était pas notre perception à l’époque. J’étais dans un environnement intellectuel très privilégié, très stimulant aussi bien dans le cadre de mes études que dans le contexte politique et social de l’époque. Mais je ne peux pas projeter cette situation à l’ensemble des étudiants de l’époque. J’étais étudiant à Paris I, j’habitais dans une chambre de bonne sur le boulevard Saint-Germain, au coin de la rue Saint-Guillaume, mes parents qui étaient en Turquie m’avait alloué un budget qui représentait environ 80% du SMIC de l’époque et je faisais des petits boulots à côté, je mangeais au restau-U sept jours sur sept, mais je pouvais acheter beaucoup de livres et aller au cinéma sans compter. Par rapport à des copains qui habitaient chez leurs parents à Paris ou dans la région parisienne, je me considérais plus libre et privilégié.

5 Étiez-vous politisé ? Était-ce inévitable ? Quel était le degré de politisation à l’université ? Quels étaient les liens entre les partis politiques, les syndicats, les étudiants et les enseignants- chercheurs ?

6 Ma venue en France était un peu comme la suite normale de mes études au lycée Galatasaray, mais surtout pour avoir une formation d’économie marxiste et échapper au climat répressif qui a suivi l’intervention militaire en Turquie en 1971. À l’époque je voyais les études d’économie comme la voie royale pour une formation marxiste. J’étais déjà politisé à gauche au lycée, mais sans être dans une organisation. Ma conscience politique a été formée dans la Turquie de la seconde moitié des années 1960, dans une vraie haine de tout ce qui est assimilé à la droite, avec évidemment un très fort tropisme pour les idées de 68 – mais sans appartenir à la génération de 68. J’avais 13 ans en 1968. À mon arrivée en France, j’ai trouvé un degré de politisation similaire avec bien plus de liberté qu’en Turquie et bien moins de violence. La gauche se préparait à accéder au pouvoir aux élections de 1974. Puis l’échec de Mitterrand contre Giscard accéléra la formation de l’union de la gauche. À l’université les organisations trotskystes et post-maoïstes étaient très présentes, bien sûr avec celles proches du PCF. Les deux grandes organisations étudiantes, les deux UNEF, étaient en forte rivalité. L’UNEF-Renouveau était proche du PC, et l’UNEF-Unité Syndicale proche de l’AJS

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(Alliance des jeunes pour le socialisme) était contrôlée essentiellement par l’organisation trotskyste du courant lambertiste. En tout cas à Paris I. Les jeunes enseignants étaient tous syndiqués soit au SNESUP proche du PC, soit au SGEN, syndicat gauchiste à l’époque affilié à la CFDT. Il y avait aussi le syndicat autonome, plutôt conservateur, dans lequel on retrouvait les « mandarins ». Entre les deux UNEF et les syndicats SNESUP et SGEN, il y avait une étroite collaboration lors des mouvements universitaires, comme par exemple la grande et longue grève du printemps 1976 contre la réforme de la secrétaire d’État aux Universités Alice Saunier-Seïté. Dans les conseils, les élus des organisations étudiantes citées et ceux des syndicats enseignants prenaient des positions communes.

7 Pouvez-vous présenter rapidement vos engagements successifs ?

8 Quand je suis arrivé en France, j’ai d’abord adhéré à l’Union des étudiants de Turquie en France dont le local était sur place Saint-Michel. Cette association regroupait à l’époque tous les étudiants de tous les courants de la gauche turque. Je suis devenu en 1977-1978 l’un des dirigeants de cette association. En deuxième année de fac, j’ai adhéré à l’Union des étudiants communistes à Paris I et à l’UNEF Renouveau, et quelques mois après au PCF dans le VIIe arrondissement. Je suis devenu secrétaire de cette cellule de quartier du PCF en 1975 et j’ai été élu comme délégué UNEF au conseil d’UFR à l’université. J’ai donc été un des dirigeants locaux de la grève de 1976. À l’UEC j’étais dans le courant althussérien, mais dans l’ensemble je soutenais la tendance eurocommuniste italienne contre la direction plus orthodoxe du PCF de Georges Marchais. J’étais partagé entre l’apparente rigueur conceptuelle d’Althusser et la critique radicale du « socialisme réellement existant ». Je me rappelle par exemple m’être opposé, en suivant en cela Althusser, à l’abandon du concept de « dictature du prolétariat » annoncée à la télévision par Georges Marchais la veille du 22e congrès du PCF en 1976, mais avoir soutenu le nouveau slogan adopté au même congrès, l’Union du peuple de France. J’étais contre le rôle d’avant-garde autoproclamé du parti mais aussi pour une radicalité du discours, notamment en rappelant que la dictature en question était le gouvernement du peuple travailleur majoritaire, donc pas une dictature ! Pourquoi ces incohérences ? Probablement pour garder une posture radicale face aux accusations de réformisme prononcées contre le courant eurocommuniste et par volonté de rester fidèle à l’histoire intellectuelle du marxisme.

9 J’ai quitté le PCF en 1979 en protestation contre son soutien à l’intervention soviétique en Afghanistan. La même année, quelques membres de l’association des étudiants de Turquie ont commencé à organiser les travailleurs clandestins dans les ateliers de confection du Sentier, des ressortissants de Turquie, et c’est un syndicat de la CFDT, le HACUITEX, qui les a soutenus. J’ai participé à l’organisation des grèves de la faim de ces clandestins en 1979-1980 et j’ai fait partie de la délégation pour les négociations de régularisation au ministère du Travail. À l’époque, j’avais terminé un DEA d’épistémologie et d’histoire de la pensée économique et j’avais débuté comme chargé de TD au département d’économie à la faculté de Sceaux. Ma rupture avec le PCF et les contacts établis avec le HACUITEX m’ont conduit à adhérer au SGEN. Jusqu’à mon départ en Turquie, au début des années 2000, je suis resté membre du SGEN, mais je n’ai pas adhéré à un autre parti politique en France.

10 Au même moment, en Turquie, j’ai rejoint à partir de 1978 le cercle de la revue Birikim, dont je fais toujours partie1. En 1977 ou en 1978, j’ai pris contact avec Mehmet Ali Aybar2 en Turquie au nom du groupe d’étudiants turcs avec lequel je militais à Paris au

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sein l’UETF. J’ai gardé une relation régulière avec Aybar jusqu’à la fin des années 1980, mais je n’ai pas adhéré aux partis politiques qu’il a créés successivement. Je partageais sa critique du léninisme. J’ai adhéré au Parti de la Liberté et de la Solidarité3 à sa création en 1996. Je l’ai quitté en 2003, je crois, après avoir en vain défendu comme délégué dans le congrès de ce parti en 2002, une position pro-adhésion de la Turquie à l’UE. J’ai adhéré au syndicat des enseignants Eğitim-Sen quand j’ai commencé à travailler à l’université Galatasaray en 2002. Et je suis l’un des membres fondateurs et toujours membre du Parti vert de gauche4 créé en 2012.

11 Quand et comment avez-vous décidé de suivre une carrière universitaire ? Dans quelle discipline et pourquoi ? Le hasard y était-il pour quelque chose ? Quelle était alors la position de votre discipline au sein du champ universitaire français ?

12 J’ai décidé de suivre une carrière universitaire lors de ma quatrième année d’études, quand j’ai fréquenté des assistants de ma faculté en dehors de l’université, lors des manifestations, des assemblées générales, et dans des dîners bien arrosés. D’où le choix du DEA. Auparavant, je voulais être journaliste. C’est pourquoi j’étais entré en deuxième année à Sciences-Po Paris, à la section Politique économique et sociale. La dernière année de Sciences-Po, j’ai décidé d’abandonner ce cursus. Les cours, mais surtout les conférences de méthode, m’ont paru trop superficiels par rapport aux séminaires que je suivais en DEA à Paris I. L’organisation du cursus de Sciences-Po a beaucoup changé depuis. Il m’a semblé que l’enseignement de Sciences-Po n’était pas du tout conçu, en tout cas à l’époque, pour former à la recherche. D’autant plus que j’étais très attiré par le courant critique de la théorie néo-classique et surtout par une analyse économique inspirée de l’anthropologie et de la sociologie. Mon sujet de mémoire de DEA portait sur l’anthropologie économique des marxistes de l’époque comme Maurice Godelier, Pierre-Philippe Rey, Claude Meillassoux. Les enseignements de Sciences-Po, en tout cas en économie, étaient plutôt plats, faussement techniques et idéologiquement trop mainstream.

13 Déjà en 1979, alors que j’étais en première année de thèse, Asaf Savaş Akat, qui était un ami de Murat Belge et publiait des articles dans la revue Birikim, m’avait fait savoir que je pourrais éventuellement, une fois ma thèse terminée, rejoindre l’équipe d’économistes réunis autour de Sencer Divitçioglu à l’Université d’Istanbul. L’idée donc était que je rentre en Turquie à l’issue de mon doctorat, comme venait de le faire Seyfettin Gürsel avec qui j’avais constitué un groupe « de gauche indépendante » au sein de l’UETF en 1977-1978, proche de Birikim et du courant de Mehmet Ali Aybar. J’ai commencé à enseigner comme chargé de TD en 1979 à Sceaux et l’année suivante à Paris IV. En 1980, il y a eu le coup d’État en Turquie. Birikim avait déjà été interdit quelques mois auparavant. Un an après, un peu plus d’un millier d’universitaires ont été chassés de l’université, dont Divitçioglu. Pour protester contre cette purge, à peu près tous les universitaires avec qui j’étais en relation ont démissionné. Je me rappelle un coup de fil d’Akat à cette époque qui me disait « maintenant toi tu restes en France, on a besoin de quelqu’un pour nous accueillir. » En effet Divitçioglu est arrivé à Paris. Le directeur de la revue Birikim, Ömer Laçiner, est aussi arrivé à Paris comme réfugié en 1982. Du coup, j’ai changé mon fusil d’épaule, j’ai soutenu ma thèse en 1982 et décidé de candidater à un poste d’assistant à Paris I. J’ai été pris en 1984. Le choix de ma carrière d’enseignant-chercheur n’est pas dû au hasard. Mais le fait que je le devienne à Paris et non à Istanbul est totalement lié au coup d’État de 1980.

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14 En économie, l’approche néo-classique, basée sur l’individualisme méthodologique et la supériorité absolue des mécanismes du marché, commençait à se renforcer au début des années 1980 dans les milieux universitaires. L’épuisement du modèle de croissance keynésienne dans les années 1970 est bien sûr pour beaucoup dans cette évolution, ainsi que la montée de l’idéologie néo-libérale. Le département d’économie de Paris I était, et il est toujours, le plus grand département universitaire d’économie en France. À l’époque, une part importante des futurs professeurs d’économie étaient issus de Paris I, au moins pour leur doctorat. Donc la bataille au sein de Paris I entre les courants orthodoxes et hétérodoxes (on va les appeler comme ça à partir des années 1990) avait des répercussions sur l’ensemble de la communauté des enseignants- chercheurs économistes en France. À long terme le courant orthodoxe, d’obédience néo-classique, ayant réussi à former une hégémonie dans les années 1980 et faire accepter son paradigme du marché à pas mal d’économistes d’obédience keynésienne, voire marxiste qui se situaient à la gauche de l’échiquier politique, est parvenu à dominer. Mais encore aujourd’hui, il reste un foyer d’économistes hétérodoxes à Paris I. Moi je faisais partie du courant hétérodoxe.

15 Vous n’étiez pas seulement un enseignant-chercheur, vous avez aussi assumé d’importantes responsabilités administratives au sein de l’université Paris-I Sorbonne. Pouvez-vous préciser lesquelles et quand ?

16 J’ai été élu au conseil de l’UFR d’économie de Paris I en 1990 sur la liste du SGEN. J’étais maître de conférences. Nous avions avec le SNESup et les élus étudiants et administratifs, une majorité au conseil. On m’a proposé de devenir directeur adjoint. Le professeur qui a été élu directeur, Pierre-Yves Hénin, a été nommé l’année suivante à la tête d’un organisme public de recherche en économie, la CEPREMAP et il a proposé au conseil de m’élire comme directeur. C’est ainsi que, pour la première fois, un maître de conférences est devenu directeur du plus gros département d’économie de France – et en plus un Turc bien turc avec son accent, son prénom, etc. J’avais 35 ans. Dans la tradition de 68, nous n’utilisions pas le terme de faculté mais d’UFR – ni d’ailleurs le terme de doyen mais celui de directeur. Nous étions aussi très hostiles au port de la toge ou aux cérémonies de remise de diplôme, etc. Le SGEN défendait le corps unique d’enseignant-chercheur. J’ai participé avec les directeurs de département d’économie de Lille I, de Strasbourg I et de Lyon II à la création de la Conférence des doyens d’économie. J’ai même organisé une réunion de cette conférence en 1994 à Istanbul, à l’université Galatasaray qui venait d’ouvrir. Fin 1994, c’était le tour des juristes de présenter des candidats à la présidence de Paris I. J’ai participé à l’équipe d’Yves Jegouzo, directeur du département de droit administratif et candidat à la présidence. Il a été élu président et moi vice-président maître de conférences au conseil d’administration. J’ai pris en charge les relations internationales de l’université, les relations avec les syndicats et la création de la Maison des sciences économiques de Paris I, là où elle est toujours, boulevard de l’Hôpital. Avec la fin du mandat d’Yves Jegouzo en 1999, j’ai pris une année sabbatique et ensuite je n’ai pas repris de fonction de direction à Paris I. J’avais décidé de partir à l’université Galatasaray.

17 Pensez-vous que les universités doivent être dirigées par des universitaires ou par des administrateurs « professionnels » ? Quels sont les avantages et les inconvénients des deux modèles de gestion ? À votre avis, le fait que les administrateurs d’une université parlent la même langue que leurs administrés peut-il avoir des effets pervers dans un contexte de fabrique de consensus sur des réformes visant à transformer le système universitaire ?

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18 Je pense qu’il est utile et important que les universités soient dirigées par des universitaires et que les dirigeants soient élus par les composantes de l’université. C’est la garantie de l’autonomie des universités. Évidemment, les administrateurs professionnels doivent participer à la gestion de l’université comme c’est le cas actuellement. Les secrétaires généraux, les agents comptables, tout le personnel administratif font partie de l’administration universitaire. Plusieurs fonctions dans l’université nécessitent des compétences professionnelles que les enseignants- chercheurs n’ont pas à avoir. Je ne crois pas que parler la même langue que les « administrés » soit un facteur de consensus. D’abord, le monde universitaire est politiquement et scientifiquement très divisé en son sein. Les traditions syndicales sont très ancrées. La production du consensus est très difficile, même si on a l’impression de parler plus ou moins la « même langue ». J’ai beaucoup apprécié la règle d’élection du président pour un seul mandat de cinq ans qui était en vigueur à l’époque. Cela donnait à la direction suffisamment d’autonomie, mais avec un fort encadrement de ses décisions par les conseils. La possibilité de la réélection fausse la fonction de président d’université, pousse à des comportements tactiques pour être réélu et rend difficile le retour du sortant dans ses fonctions initiales d’enseignant-chercheur. Ce que j’ai beaucoup apprécié aussi à l’époque est que le président d’université n’avait aucun pouvoir sur le recrutement des enseignants-chercheurs dans son université. Par ailleurs, il n’avait aucun pouvoir non plus dans la gestion du personnel puisque tous les postes, enseignants et administratifs, relevaient à l’époque du budget du ministère et non pas de celui des universités. Avec la loi LRU (loi relative aux libertés et aux responsabilités des universités, dite loi Pécresse), les universités ont obtenu la responsabilité de la gestion du budget du personnel. Et ce fut la catastrophe. Primo, il n’y avait pas de vraie compétence de gestion sur ce sujet dans les universités. Secundo, sans aucune autonomie dans la gestion des ressources, l’autonomie dans la gestion des dépenses est un piège. Et tertio, avec les nouvelles règles d’élection des présidents et de fonctionnement des universités, les directions sont souvent tombées dans l’illusion d’un plus grand pouvoir. La loi était une sorte de piège pour les universités qui réclamaient depuis longtemps encore plus d’autonomie mais devenaient elles-mêmes responsables pour gérer les contraintes budgétaires imposées par Bercy. Les transferts de la propriété des bâtiments et des terrains aux universités, sans ou très partiel transfert des moyens budgétaires liés à leur entretien, le pouvoir accru des présidents d’université pour qu’ils puissent diriger l’université « comme un chef d’entreprise », etc., ont créé des illusions de pouvoir aux yeux de beaucoup de présidents d’université en exercice ou se préparant à le devenir. Dans nombre de cas, les résultats ont été catastrophiques financièrement, mais aussi du point de vue du climat interne de la vie des établissements. J’ai l’impression que les nouvelles règles de gestion ont beaucoup accru les tensions internes.

19 Quelle est votre appréciation des différentes vagues de réformes de l’université en France que vous avez vécues d’abord en tant qu’étudiant, puis comme enseignant-chercheur et enfin comme administrateur ?

20 On a des perceptions différentes quand on est étudiant, enseignant ou administrateur. La vision que j’avais dans les années 1970 en tant qu’étudiant était surtout marquée par la montée de la gauche en France et en Turquie, et la lutte dans l’université en faisait partie. La remise en cause de l’autorité attachée aux statuts était par exemple une ligne conductrice majeure. Comme mon projet était de rentrer en Turquie après mes études,

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je ne situais pas les réformes dans le contexte français sur une longue période jusqu’aux années 1980. Je me suis engagé corps et âme contre la réforme Saunier-Seité, nous y reviendrons, mais j’ai plutôt suivi le mouvement en tant que militant syndical.

21 En tant qu’enseignant, j’ai beaucoup apprécié les réformes introduites par la loi Savary en 1984. La loi annonçait la création d’un grand service public d’enseignement supérieur et unifiait un tant soit peu les différentes formations supérieures. Elle a échoué dans cet objectif, les dérogations ont suivi d’autres dérogations après la promulgation de la loi. Mais la loi renforçait les pratiques délibératives au sein des universités en instituant un troisième conseil (Conseil des études et de la vie universitaire), elle augmentait le pouvoir de représentation du personnel administratif et des étudiants dans les conseils centraux. Elle mettait en place une approche pluridisciplinaire au premier semestre de la première année pour faciliter la réorientation des étudiants, réduisait la tutelle du rectorat sur l’université, etc. D’où probablement la vigueur de la réaction deux ans après, quand Alain Devaquet a essayé d’introduire la sélection à l’entrée de l’université et de mettre en concurrence les établissements entre eux. La mort de Malik Oussekine a conduit à la démission du ministre délégué et au retrait du projet.

22 Depuis cette date, la non-sélection à l’entrée de l’université est devenue presqu’un tabou politique, mais les universités très demandées ont trouvé différents moyens pour introduire une sélection de fait, sinon de droit. La plupart des réformes universitaires en France tournent autour de cette question de la sélection à l’entrée. En réalité le système est très hypocrite. Il y a une énorme sélection pour les filières des grandes écoles, les filières d’ingénieurs, et même pour les filières courtes professionnelles comme les IUT. À cause de cette sélection, ces formations sont de plus en plus demandées par les élèves ou par leur famille. L’université reçoit en grande partie le reste. On dépense énormément pour les étudiants des classes préparatoires par rapport à ceux de l’université. Quand je suis devenu directeur du département d’économie à Paris I j’ai encore plus pris conscience du problème. J’ai mis en place des bi-licences qui nous permettaient d’attirer un peu les étudiants qui se dirigeaient d’ordinaire vers les classes prépa. On a introduit des passerelles privilégiées pour accueillir les étudiants recalés en première année de médecine, etc. Tout ça pour affronter la concurrence des grandes écoles, des prépas. La prise en charge par l’université seule de la réalisation du principe de la non-sélection à l’entrée a conduit à la détérioration de son image et des moyens budgétaires alloués.

23 Mais je dois reconnaitre que lorsque j’étais directeur d’UFR et puis vice-président de Paris I, donc durant neuf ans, la grande majorité du temps, nous avions des gouvernements socialistes et ce furent des années relativement fastes financièrement pour l’université. Par ailleurs, avec le changement substantiel de l’origine sociale des étudiants, la nécessité d’un encadrement plus fort commençait à se faire sentir et nous avons pu obtenir des ministres socialistes de l’époque des moyens supplémentaires pour augmenter les volumes horaires d’enseignement, notamment sous forme de travaux dirigés. Enfin, il y a eu un vrai effort d’augmentation des moyens budgétaires alloués à la recherche notamment pour les étudiants en doctorat. Quand j’ai fait ma thèse, il y avait très peu de possibilité de financement. Il y a eu des améliorations importantes depuis.

24 En revanche, l’accès et le déroulement du métier d’enseignant-chercheur est devenu bien plus compétitif, notamment en termes de publications d’un côté et avec de plus en

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plus des charges administratives de l’autre. L’enseignement a été dévalorisé au profit de la recherche – mais je reste bien sceptique sur l’utilité sociale, voire l’utilité scientifique d’une partie de ces activités de recherche qui doivent être sérieusement réévaluées par rapport à celle de l’enseignement, notamment en sciences économiques. D’une part, la temporalité de la recherche a été sensiblement réduite au profit des activités susceptibles de produire des résultats rapidement et en grand nombre, même si le nombre en question est formé de produits quasi clonés. D’autre part, pour la plupart des enseignants-chercheurs, l’enseignement a commencé à apparaitre comme un fardeau, d’où la fuite vers les troisièmes cycles et l’ouverture des formations de troisième cycle très pointues qui se justifient essentiellement par leur capacité à offrir des services d’enseignement jugés nobles et surtout moins fatigants et moins chronophages. Quand je dirigeais l’UFR d’économie, j’avais déjà découvert l’existence des cours de DEA ad hoc, avec très peu d’étudiants mais justifiés soi-disant par un programme de recherche. Or ces cours n’existaient que grâce aux moyens acquis par le très grand nombre d’étudiants inscrits dans les premiers et seconds cycles que ces professeurs fuyaient justement. J’avoue par ailleurs qu’il m’est arrivé d’ouvrir aussi quelques cours ad hoc pour préserver le public étudiant des premiers cycles de la catastrophe que représentaient quelques enseignants.

25 Je ne peux pas dire grande chose sur l’état de l’université en France depuis le milieu des années 2000. Je n’y suis pas. Mais j’ai vu deux mouvements opposés entre les années 1980 et les années 2000. Dans la première période on nous poussait à former des structures de taille moyenne, voire petite, notamment en matière d’équipes de recherche. C’était la mode « small is beautiful ». Après, le mouvement s’est inversé et le ministère et le CNRS ont commencé à valoriser les grosses équipes, les grosses universités. Dans les années 1980, Paris I était la plus grosse université en nombre d’étudiants en France et dans les négociations avec le ministère cela nous était souvent reproché à l’époque. Après est venue la mode des grandes unités, des fusions d’universités pour obtenir un effet de taille afin de figurer dans les classements internationaux – dont les modalités d’évaluation sont discutables. Mais je n’ai pas suivi de l’intérieur de l’université française cette nouvelle tendance qui est en vigueur actuellement.

26 Comment l’universitaire que vous étiez dans la France des années 1980 et 1990 a-t-il perçu toutes ces tentatives et projets de réformes depuis la loi Faure en 1968 ? Aviez-vous une perception historicisée d’une longue évolution, d’un long combat ou plutôt une perception épisodique, axée sur le présent ? Aujourd’hui, votre appréciation demeure-t-elle inchangée, ou pensez-vous qu’il s’agit de processus multiples, divergents, dont la cohérence apparente est en fait une illusion ?

27 Ma première confrontation avec une réforme universitaire fût la réforme Saunier-Seité en 1976. Le projet visait à couper le second cycle en deux en introduisant une possible sélection à l’entrée de quatrième année et un renforcement des filières dites professionnalisantes. La grève a duré trois mois, de février à mai. J’étais un des délégués de Paris I et j’ai participé à plusieurs réunions de la coordination nationale. Finalement, le projet a été retiré et nous avons pu négocier que les examens de fin d’année ne se transforment pas en sanction. Il y avait eu, juste avant mon arrivée en France, un mouvement contre la création du DEUG. Il avait échoué. Le saucissonnage du cursus universitaire avec des diplômes quasiment à la fin de chaque année nous paraissait comme l’expression d’une volonté sélective pour pousser les étudiants à quitter le plus tôt possible l’université. Avec l’arrivée de la gauche au pouvoir, les

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rapports de force se sont inversés. Le gouvernement a titularisé les assistants, du coup ma candidature au poste d’assistant a été refusée par le rectorat en 1983 parce que je n’avais pas la nationalité française alors que les titulaires de la fonction publique devaient tous être citoyens français. J’ai dû demander la naturalisation en urgence. En 1988 le gouvernement Rocard a annulé l’obligation de citoyenneté pour les titulaires dans l’enseignement supérieur. La loi Savary de 1984 était accueillie favorablement par les syndicats enseignants et étudiants. Elle renforçait l’autonomie par rapport à la loi Faure.

28 Le clivage entre universités et grandes écoles, qui est une spécificité française, s’est peut-être un peu atténué aujourd’hui, mais il reste le problème majeur de l’organisation de l’enseignement et de la recherche en France. Par ailleurs, j’étais sceptique à l’époque sur la nécessité de renforcer les universités par le soutien des fondations, mais je crois aujourd’hui que les universités doivent aussi développer leurs soutiens financiers par les fondations et mobiliser plus le soutien de leurs anciens diplômés. Bien sûr avec les fondations regroupant les anciens diplômés, il y a aussi le risque de voir se former un lobby d’anciens qui s’immisce dans la gestion de l’université. J’ai été témoin direct de ce fait à l’université Galatasaray. Mais je crois qu’il est nécessaire de créer un cycle de don entre l’université et les étudiants. Au don fait par le service public d’enseignement supérieur en France, avec des frais d’inscription très faibles, les étudiants devraient pouvoir répondre par un contre-don s’ils le désirent après leur diplôme. Ce lien symbolique qui s’inscrit dans la durée me paraît important pour que les étudiants ne se sentent pas seulement de passage à l’université. Par ailleurs, la contrepartie des faibles frais d’inscription pourrait être ce contre-don volontaire qui permettrait à l’université, surtout après la loi LRU, d’un peu mieux faire face à ses engagements de développement par rapport aux grandes écoles, aux écoles de commerce qui ont des contraintes financières bien moindres. On peut mettre en revanche des règles très strictes pour éviter que les lobbys d’anciens aient du pouvoir dans l’université. Il est vrai que ces règles très strictes risquent de ne pas résister à l’épreuve du temps. J’avoue que c’est une solution à double tranchant pour des gens comme moi qui viennent d’une culture universitaire qui associe fortement l’autonomie académique et l’indépendance scientifique.

29 Quel est à votre avis le poids de la conjoncture globale économique, politique et intellectuelle que l’on appelle communément le néolibéralisme dans les évolutions centralistes et autoritaires de l’université dès le milieu des années 1970 ? Est-ce qu’il y a une ou des spécificités françaises en la matière ?

30 Évidemment l’hégémonie progressive du néolibéralisme a touché l’université qui s’est retrouvée tiraillée entre la soumission au nouvel esprit du capitalisme et la préservation d’anciennes valeurs comme la gratuité, le service public et l’acceptation d’une certaine modestie dans les conditions de vie en contrepartie de l’épanouissement dans la réalisation du bien public. Avec la financiarisation du capitalisme, les inégalités salariales ont commencé à se creuser et le métier d’enseignant-chercheur s’est dévalorisé. Une partie des enseignants-chercheurs ont commencé à comparer leur statut, notamment en termes de salaire, à celui de la nouvelle classe montante et ont commencé à manifester une frustration qui a été aggravée par la mondialisation. Le salaire est devenu bien plus qu’autrefois le signe principal de la réussite sociale et cela a induit des comportements nouveaux qui ont commencé à contourner les règles de la fonction publique et du service public – comme la création de sources de revenus

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complémentaires substantiels, par des contrats de recherche ou par des fonds privés affectés afin d’attirer les « meilleurs », et pour ce faire la création de structures juridiques mi-publiques (pour bénéficier de la garantie d’emploi et des autres avantages) et mi-privées (pour échapper aux règles de la fonction publique en termes de rémunération et de dépenses). Néanmoins il faut reconnaitre que le monde universitaire français, comparé à d’autres pays occidentaux, est l’un des principaux lieux qui a pu s’opposer, dans les limites de ses capacités, à cette dérive néolibérale jusqu’à aujourd’hui.

31 Je n’ai pas connu l’université d’avant 68 qui était, me semble-t-il, un lieu un peu trop hiératique, vertical, avec un principe d’égalité entre les pairs qui existait seulement au sommet de la hiérarchie, parmi les professeurs d’université. Aujourd’hui, nous vivons une autre forme d’autoritarisme, moins ouverte, plus sournoise, qui consiste à formater la recherche selon les normes établies par une technocratie et à pousser la direction des universités, au nom de l’efficacité, à court-circuiter la participation ou tout au moins à la vider de sa substance. Diriger l’université comme un chef d’entreprise est encouragé par les pouvoirs publics et par l’esprit dominant du temps. Mais à part satisfaire les égos de ceux qui se sentent frustrés dans leur vocation de chef d’entreprise, une telle conception n’apporte pas grand-chose à l’université sauf à aggraver encore les tensions internes, les rivalités et à mobiliser une part encore plus grande de l’énergie et du temps de tous pour les affrontements internes.

32 Comment évaluez-vous le rôle de l’Union Européenne dans l’évolution du système universitaire français ? Le « processus de Bologne » était-il inévitable ? Quel est votre jugement personnel sur ce « processus » ?

33 Avec le processus d’intégration européenne, une harmonisation des cursus de l’enseignement supérieur était nécessaire. Je n’ai pas d’objection de principe à ce que l’on mette en place un rythme à peu près identique dans les formations, ni à la semestrialisation ou la mise en place des ECTS. Qu’il y ait la licence en trois ans, une maîtrise en deux ans partout, pourquoi pas ? Mais concevoir la licence en trois ans comme une formation destinée immédiatement au marché de travail revient à transformer l’esprit de l’université. Elle est poussée à devenir plus une école professionnelle et moins un lieu de développement de l’esprit critique et analytique. Un autre effet pervers du processus de Bologne est d’introduire la compétition entre établissements pour obtenir des financements, ce qui transforme l’enseignant- chercheur en chercheur de financement. Moins peut-être en France, mais d’une manière bien plus forte chez nos voisins. J’ai vu concrètement le changement du métier en vingt ans. D’une part il y a eu une augmentation très sensible des tâches autres que l’enseignement et la recherche, les tâches administratives notamment ; d’autre part, une pression de plus en plus forte pour courir derrière des financements. Paradoxalement le temps consacré à la bureaucratie de la recherche a augmenté. Il est vrai qu’auparavant, l’incitation à faire de la recherche était plus une incitation non marchande, plus personnelle et que, quantitativement, on produisait moins dans l’ensemble. Mais cette augmentation de la quantité, mesurée par le nombre de publications, et devenant le principal mode d’évaluation, a des effets pervers sur la production de la recherche, notamment en sciences sociales. Le processus de Bologne a accéléré le décrochage entre quelques établissements phares et le reste, comme c’est le cas aux États-Unis. Mais je reconnais aussi qu’avec la massification de l’enseignement supérieur, l’ancien modèle universitaire n’était pas non plus soutenable sur le long

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terme. Le statut des diplômes universitaires s’est dévalorisé parce qu’auparavant une petite minorité accédait à l’enseignement supérieur et maintenant la démocratisation de l’accès à l’enseignement supérieur a déplacé vers le haut le curseur de la sélection. D’où une forte frustration sociale dans le public étudiant des jeunes diplômés de licence, voire de maîtrise.

34 L’alternance politique a-t-elle joué un rôle dans l’évolution du système universitaire français (par exemple, la loi Savary ou la loi Pécresse), ou la temporalité des tentatives de réforme universitaire était-elle d’une autre nature, indépendante des retournements politiques ? Ou faut- il y voir plusieurs temporalités institutionnelles, politiques et intellectuelles différentes, qui peuvent être endogènes ou exogènes ?

35 Les alternances politiques ont joué sur l’évolution du système universitaire français. Entre la loi Savary et le projet de réforme Devaquet il y a deux ans d’écart, mais une bien plus grande différence. Je crois que c’est dans les années 1990 qu’une direction dominante de la réforme universitaire a commencé à se faire sentir au-delà des alternances politiques. Claude Allègre comme super ministre de l’Éducation nationale, de la Recherche et de la Technologie sous le gouvernement socialiste de Jospin avait une mentalité peu différente de celle de Valérie Pécresse dix ans plus tard. Le rouleau compresseur de l’air du temps néolibéral était en marche. Il y a bien sûr plusieurs temporalités différentes qui se superposent et s’influencent mutuellement. Mais il y a aussi un peu trop la volonté de chaque ministre de vouloir marquer son passage par une réforme qui crée une vraie lassitude envers les réformes à force de faire et de défaire. Les COMUE en sont un exemple significatif, je crois, pour la majorité des cas. Par rapport au monde universitaire que j’ai connu à la fin des années 1970 et dans les 1980, avec des rapports plus fraternels, plus amicaux entre les collègues, et peut-être avec un zeste de paternalisme et de l’esprit de corporation qui restaient de l’ancien temps, j’ai vu une réelle dégradation des relations, une aggravation des clivages à partir des années 1990. Probablement on retrouve la même chose aussi ailleurs dans la société.

36 Quels sont les principaux problèmes de l’université française d’aujourd’hui ? Voyez-vous de possibles solutions ?

37 J’ai évoqué le problème de cette séparation entre grandes écoles et universités qui est je crois le problème majeur et difficile à surmonter. Le principe de la non-sélection à l’entrée conduit à des comportements hypocrites et clandestins, mais en même temps il donne à l’université sa force statutaire comme un très grand organisme de service public. Mais il faut que les études universitaires ne soient pas un choix par défaut, une solution de repli par rapport à d’autres cursus. Ce problème était arrivé à son paroxysme il y a quelques années, il semble qu’il se soit atténué maintenant. Je garde la nostalgie de l’université comme un lieu de faible contrainte, de motivation individuelle qui prime sur l’obligation institutionnelle, de débats et d’enrichissement intellectuel mutuel et je sais en même temps qu’il s’agit d’une nostalgie en réalité hyper-élitiste. La démocratie, en laquelle je crois profondément, a aussi son revers qui est la trivialité, voire la médiocrité comme le prédisait Tocqueville. Malgré cela je crois que l’accès des classes défavorisées à l’enseignement supérieur est bien plus important socialement, bien plus progressiste quant aux résultats sociaux induits, que de garder l’université comme un bunker pour une élite cooptée.

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De la France vers la Turquie

38 Quand et comment avez-vous décidé de rentrer en Turquie ? Quelle est la part, dans cette décision, d’un sens civique et de vos convictions politiques à l’égard de votre pays d’origine ? Et quelle est la part de la transformation de l’université française au sein de laquelle vous travailliez déjà depuis une dizaine d’années ? Avez-vous définitivement quitté l’université française ou étiez-vous à cheval entre deux pays et deux universités ? Avez-vous continué à assumer des responsabilités administratives dans les deux systèmes ?

39 J’ai décidé de rentrer en Turquie en 2001 quand j’ai passé mon année sabbatique durant l’année universitaire 1999-2000 à enseigner à l’université Galatasaray. Il y avait l’attirance pour un projet universitaire en formation et une certaine responsabilité morale vis-à-vis de la communauté de Galatasaray, composée des anciens élèves du lycée Galatasaray qui gardent entre eux une vieille et forte tradition de solidarité infra et intra-générationnelle et restent en contact régulier à travers des associations des anciens disséminées dans plusieurs villes de Turquie et dans le reste du monde. Mais plus important encore, c’était le contexte de la Turquie à l’époque, susceptible de devenir membre de l’UE avec une réelle attente de démocratisation. Je voulais être présent en Turquie et participer plus directement à l’activité politique. De l’autre côté, l’aggravation des conflits internes aux économistes à Paris I ne m’incitait pas à revenir. Pendant quelques années, j’ai fait cours un semestre à Paris I et un semestre à Galatasaray. Après j’ai demandé une disponibilité sans solde à Paris I et consacré tout mon temps à l’université Galatasaray. J’avais obtenu un poste de fonctionnaire turc. Je ne voulais surtout pas être détaché et travailler en Turquie comme un expat. En 2013 j’ai demandé une retraite anticipée de l’université Galatasaray, j’avais 58 ans et je n’ai pas réintégré mon poste à Paris I. J’avais enseigné sans discontinuer depuis 1979, avec les tâches de direction et y compris lors de mon congé sabbatique, je voulais désormais me consacrer totalement à d’autres activités que l’enseignement et surtout être entièrement libre de mon emploi de temps pour le reste de ma vie.

40 Avant de continuer au sujet de l’université Galatasaray, pouvez-vous parler de vos engagements intellectuels et politiques en dehors du cadre universitaire en tant qu’intellectuel, notamment la campagne « Arméniens, pardonnez-nous » ? Pourriez-vous revenir sur votre contribution à la maison d’édition İletişim, qui constitue un des piliers du révisionnisme historiographique par rapport au kémalisme et à l’histoire officielle ?

41 J’ai participé à la création de la maison d’édition İletişim à Istanbul, à partir de 1982-1983, qui s’appuyait essentiellement sur des personnes qui s’étaient regroupées autour de la revue Birikim interdite en 1980 (la revue a repris son activité en 1989). Il y avait déjà dans les années 1970 une activité de publication de Birikim parallèlement à la revue. L’objectif d’İletişim, dans ses années de forte répression politique qui ont suivi le coup d’État militaire de 1980, était d’abord d’ouvrir un espace de débat libre et bien entendu de remettre en cause la doxa officielle imposée par les militaires dans les sciences sociales – tout particulièrement en histoire mais aussi en sociologie, en analyse politique… Interroger la version de l’histoire officielle imposée par le pouvoir était un des objectifs majeurs. Je crois qu’İletişim a joué un rôle important dans cette direction, pas seulement en secouant l’historiographie officielle mais aussi en ouvrant un espace de débat sur les libertés fondamentales, sur la question kurde, sur les minorités, sur les non-dits de l’histoire de la République. La revue mensuelle populaire d’histoire, Tarih ve Toplum, publiée aussi par İletişim entre 1984 et 2003, a joué un rôle important dans ce

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sens. Entre 2005 et 2014, Tarih ve Toplum a été publiée par İletişim comme revue semestrielle académique d’histoire et je faisais partie de son comité de rédaction. İletişim a repris aussi en 1982 la publication de la revue trimestrielle de sciences sociales Toplum ve Bilim qui continue d’être publiée et reste une des plus prestigieuses revues académiques de Turquie. Le bimensuel Yeni Gündem (devenu hebdomadaire en 1986) par exemple était entre 1984 et 1987 un vrai lieu de débat intellectuel sur l’émergence de la société civile, dénonçant les pratiques et les traditions du pouvoir autoritaire en Turquie avec des analyses solides. J’étais son représentant en France. En raison d’un article que j’avais publié fin 1986 sur l’ouverture de l’Institut kurde de Paris, le numéro de l’hebdomadaire Yeni Gündem a été interdit et une enquête pour séparatisme ouverte contre moi et le rédacteur en chef, avec à la clé une lourde peine de prison. Je n’ai pu retourner en Turquie qu’en 1991 à la suite de l’abrogation des articles 141 et 142 du code pénal. Les encyclopédies sur l’histoire de la République, sur l’histoire de l’Empire ottoman depuis le début du XIXe siècle jusqu’à la République ont joué un rôle de briseur de glace. Bien qu’étant à Paris, j’ai été très impliqué dans cette aventure. On a même créé une SARL en France en 1987, ILEU (İletişim Europe) pour diffuser en Europe les différentes revues, les encyclopédies et les livres d’İletişim et acheter des droits d’auteur pour les traduire en turc. Je suis aujourd’hui impliqué encore plus dans les activités de cette maison d’édition qui est devenue au fil du temps une des plus importantes de Turquie, publiant aussi bien des œuvres de fiction que de non-fiction. Mais İletişim n’est pas un organe politique, c’est une maison d’édition de sensibilité de gauche qui essaye surtout de publier de bons livres et de survivre avec une indépendance financière totale.

42 La campagne publique de signatures « Nous demandons pardon aux Arméniens ! » a été lancée en décembre 2007, l’année où Hrant Dink a été assassiné (le 17 janvier 2007). Nous sommes quatre à avoir rédigé ce texte court qui a été mis sur internet pour signature. Un peu plus de 30 000 personnes l’ont signé. Cet événement faisait directement suite à la grande marche de dizaines de milliers de personnes à Istanbul derrière la dépouille de Hrant. Sur la question du génocide des Arméniens, nous avions commencé à publier chez İletişim les livres de Taner Akçam depuis les années 1990, nous avions abordé la question dans un numéro spécial de la revue Birikim. Avec la campagne « Nous demandons pardon », les choses se sont accélérées. Des manifestations publiques de commémoration du génocide le 24 avril ont commencé à être organisées à partir de 2009 à Istanbul et dans quelques autres villes de Turquie. Une fondation portant le nom de Hrant Dink a été créée et a commencé à organiser des conférences annuelles sur l’histoire de la Turquie à travers la question arménienne. J’ai été membre du conseil d’administration de cette fondation quelques années, dans les années 2010, et depuis quatre ans je préside au sein de cette fondation le comité d’organisation qui remet tous les ans le prix international des droits de l’homme portant le nom de Hrant Dink. Par ailleurs j’ai participé à plusieurs initiatives pour la reconnaissance de l’égalité citoyenne des minorités, notamment des Kurdes. J’étais présent à Taksim lors des évènements Gezi en juin 2013.

43 Le lendemain de mon départ pour Paris en octobre 2016 (je partageais après mon départ en retraite de Galatasaray en 2013, le mois entre Paris et Istanbul), dix-sept de mes collègues du quotidien Cumhuriyet, dans lequel j’avais commencé à tenir deux chroniques hebdomadaires à partir de 2015, ont été arrêtés. Puis d’autres arrestations

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ont suivi parmi des amis proches. Depuis l’automne 2016, je ne suis plus retourné en Turquie.

44 Pouvez-vous résumer pour le public français ce que c’est l’université Galatasaray ?

45 Il s’agit d’une université publique turque fondée par un accord intergouvernemental turco-français en 1992. Elle se présente un peu comme la continuation du lycée Galatasaray dans l’univers de l’enseignement francophone en Turquie. La langue d’enseignement est mixte, turc et français. Il y a des professeurs français envoyés par la France, et un recteur adjoint français. L’accord international fondateur fait que l’université déroge, par certains aspects, aux règles imposées par le Conseil de l’enseignement supérieur qui fait office de ministère des Universités en Turquie. C’est une université à dominante de sciences sociales. Par son prestige, l’université recrute dans le concours national d’entrée aux universités les meilleurs candidats pour la plupart de ses filières. L’université accueille peu d’étudiants. Quand je dirigeais le département d’économie, seulement 40 étudiants étaient acceptés en première année. C’était à peu près la même chose pour les autres départements. Les fondateurs de l’université Galatasaray, pour se préserver de la pression que le Conseil de l’enseignement supérieur était susceptible d’exercer dans l’avenir pour faire augmenter le volume des effectifs d’entrée, avaient fait ajouter dans l’accord intergouvernemental une clause qui fixait une limite au nombre d’étudiants acceptés en première année. Je ne sais pas si cette limite est rigoureusement respectée aujourd’hui.

46 Quelles étaient les raisons de cet investissement de diplomatie culturelle française ? Quelles étaient les motivations du côté turc ?

47 La motivation initiale et principale venait surtout des anciens du lycée Galatasaray. Il y a eu d’abord, dans les années 1980, la création par les anciens diplômés d’une fondation pour soutenir le lycée. L’initiative de la création de l’université est venue des fondateurs de cette fondation. La partie française a aussi un intérêt en termes de renforcement de la francophonie en déclin face à l’anglais. D’une part cela rendait plus attractifs les lycées francophones grâce à des contingents réservés pour eux, mais sur concours, pour entrer à l’université Galatasaray. D’autre part, les étudiants venant d’autres établissements scolaires étaient pour la plupart bons anglophones et voulaient être diplômés en maîtrisant bien deux langues étrangères. Pour la Turquie, l’intérêt de l’époque était aussi de préparer des cadres supérieurs plus intégrés au système européen. Enfin pour la France, l’université Galatasaray était vue comme un instrument d’influence, un vecteur privilégié pour développer les relations culturelles entre les deux sociétés. Dans les moments de fortes tensions politiques internes entre la France et la Turquie, comme par exemple lors de la reconnaissance du génocide des Arméniens par le parlement français en 2001, ou lors du vote pour la pénalisation de la négation du génocide des Arméniens en 2011, ou encore après la prise de position hostile de Sarkozy en 2007 contre l’adhésion de la Turquie à l’UE, les deux parties ont utilisé massivement les opportunités offertes par l’université Galatasaray pour maintenir un certain dialogue. Grâce au consortium (voir ci-dessous), nous avions commencé à Galatasaray des programmes d’échange Erasmus avant l’entrée officielle de la Turquie dans ce programme. Cela a servi un peu de projet pilote pour la généralisation de ce programme en Turquie.

48 À quelle étape avez-vous commencé à être impliqué dans la construction de l’université Galatasaray ? Quelles responsabilités avez-vous assumées à Galatasaray ?

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49 L’un des fondateurs de la fondation et le chef de projet de l’université Galatasaray, Coşkun Kırca, est venu à Paris me proposer fin 1992 d’aider à la réalisation de ce projet. À l’époque j’étais directeur de l’UFR d’économie à Paris I. J’ai engagé Paris I comme chef de file de la coopération universitaire avec Galatasaray. Nous avons créé un consortium avec sept établissements universitaires français. Lors de la mise en place des cursus, ce consortium restreint a massivement participé à la définition des programmes, avec comme objectif une équivalence de droit des diplômes avec ceux des universités françaises. J’ai aussi commencé à faire quelques cours en économie, concentrés sur les périodes de vacances scolaires en France. Le consortium s’est élargi par la suite et nous avons développé un programme pour la formation en troisième cycle en France des diplômés de Galatasaray, sélectionnés en vue de leur retour comme enseignants- chercheurs à Galatasaray. Leur bourse était versée par le consortium. L’objectif était d’assurer la relève avec des enseignants turcs mais francophones, ayant fait leur DEA et leur thèse en France, et disposant ainsi chacun de leur propre réseau universitaire en France. J’ai laissé ma place de coordinateur du consortium à d’autres collègues en 2008.

50 Un an après mon intégration à l’université Galatasaray, je suis devenu membre du conseil d’administration et, en 2006, directeur du département d’économie. J’ai quitté l’université Galatasaray en 2013, et je n’ai pas repris non plus mon poste à Paris I. Entre-temps j’ai été candidat à la présidence de l’université Galatasaray mais j’ai perdu les élections de quelques voix. C’était en 2007, la tension politique montait de jour en jour. Je soutenais l’idée de candidatures indépendantes pour que des représentants de la gauche et des Kurdes puissent entrer au Parlement5. Hrant Dink venait d’être assassiné. À Istanbul, dans ma circonscription électorale, lors des élections anticipées de juillet 2007, j’ai soutenu activement Baskın Oran, « candidat indépendant de la gauche » qui est devenu par la suite l’un des quatre initiateurs de l’initiative de « Nous demandons pardon aux Arméniens ». J’étais chroniqueur depuis 1999 dans le supplément du dimanche du quotidien de gauche Radikal. Les fondateurs de l’université Galatasaray avec qui j’avais travaillé en étroite collaboration ont mené une campagne contre moi, comme quoi j’allais remplir l’université de Kurdes et de femmes voilées… Le corps enseignant était approximativement divisé en deux. Il le reste encore, plus ou moins, aujourd’hui. Le candidat qu’ils ont soutenu pour bloquer mon élection a démissionné en 2015 de son poste de président d’université pour devenir député de l’AKP !

51 Quelles étaient vos premières impressions en tant qu’universitaire « français » ? Est-ce que l’institution universitaire représente la même chose dans l’imaginaire des élites intellectuelles et politiques des deux pays ? Quelles étaient les modalités d’administration différentes de celle des universités françaises auxquelles vous étiez habitué ?

52 J’ai retrouvé l’université française d’avant 68 que nos assistants nous décrivaient dans les années 1970. Par exemple lors de ma première réunion du conseil d’administration, en 2003, je crois, j’ai été choqué que tout le monde se lève quand le président entre dans la salle. Tous les enseignants présents au conseil d’administration étaient des professeurs ! Je n’avais jamais vu ça à Paris I dans aucune réunion depuis mes premières expériences de délégué étudiant au conseil de faculté dans les années 1970.

53 Mais d’un autre côté, j’avais une position très privilégiée comme ancien du lycée, venant de la direction de Paris I, ayant beaucoup de contacts avec les universités françaises, etc. Je disposais d’une autonomie, d’une liberté d’action bien plus large que la plupart de mes collègues. Je ne subissais pas la forte et lourde hiérarchie à l’ancienne

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importée de l’Université d’Istanbul. Et politiquement aussi, j’ai bénéficié d’une large liberté d’action jusqu’aux années 2010 au sein de l’Université. Un exemple significatif : Coşkun Kırca, un des fondateurs de l’université Galatasaray, ancien ambassadeur, député du parti de droite, un kémaliste de droite très influent dans les milieux bureaucratico-militaires de l’époque, et moi, nous tenions chacun une chronique hebdomadaire dans le quotidien Yeni Yüzyıl, dans la seconde moitié des années 1990 et exprimions des idées diamétralement opposées, mais par ailleurs, nous travaillions en étroite collaboration pour les affaires de l’Université. La situation s’est dégradée de ce point de vue à partir de 2007 mais surtout après 2011. Mais je dois reconnaître aussi qu’après le lancement de la campagne de « Pardon aux Arméniens » nous recevions beaucoup de menaces et la direction de l’université a pris discrètement des dispositions pour assurer ma sécurité dans l’établissement. Les départements qui avaient soutenu majoritairement ma candidature étaient vus comme des brebis galeuses par la direction et l’ont payé au niveau des ouvertures de poste notamment. Mais personnellement je n’ai jamais été inquiété dans l’université pour mes engagements politiques extérieurs. Aujourd’hui cela est inimaginable.

54 Il y avait deux tendances dans la représentation du rôle de l’université Galatasaray lors de sa fondation : faire une ENA turque ou faire une vraie université d’élite. Le premier projet a été rapidement balayé mais il a laissé beaucoup de séquelles. Le second projet a très partiellement réussi parce que les traditions de copinage ont beaucoup pesé. Moi j’avais l’habitude des conseils avec étudiants, administratifs, syndicats et avec des oppositions, des affrontements. À Galatasaray, c’était le paternalisme mais avec une forte structure hiérarchique et autoritaire. Quelques départements dépassaient ces traditions et pratiques dans leur fonctionnement interne, mais au niveau de l’université le président était un autocrate élu. Quand j’étais candidat pour la présidence de Galatasaray, j’ai décidé de faire dans chaque faculté une réunion-débat ouverte à tous les enseignants mais aussi à tous les administratifs, même si ces derniers n’ont pas le droit au vote. C’était une première à l’université. La tradition était des rencontres individuelles derrière les portes. La vieille garde des fondateurs était choquée par cette initiative.

55 28 ans après sa fondation, comment voyez-vous ce grand projet de coopération universitaire franco-turque qu’est l’université Galatasaray ? Peut-on dire simplement que les rêves ambitieux des débuts ont débouché sur une déception réciproque, ou votre appréciation est-elle plus nuancée ?

56 Le rêve de départ a échoué en partie. L’université Galatasaray est une bonne université à l’échelle de la Turquie. Il y a eu beaucoup de régressions par rapport au projet initial ces dix dernières années, en partie par l’éloignement de la perspective d’adhésion à l’UE, et en plus grande partie encore par la mise en place progressive d’un régime autocratique très répressif. Il y a eu aussi au sein de l’université Galatasaray une tendance nationaliste, souverainiste qui a mis des bâtons dans les roues de la coopération avec les universités françaises, en grande partie par manque de confiance en soi, par peur de la comparaison, et par volonté de garder le contrôle sur des mini- féodalités constituées. Aujourd’hui, vu la verticale du pouvoir mise en place par l’Erdoganisme, de toute façon attendre beaucoup de l’université Galatasaray serait un espoir vain. Mais il y a encore beaucoup de secteurs dans cet établissement qui s’efforcent, malgré des contraintes que l’on ne peut imaginer en France, de fonctionner comme une université digne de ce nom. Ils méritent d’être reconnus et encouragés.

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57 Dans quelle mesure l’université Galatasaray se distingue-t-elle par rapport à ses homologues en Turquie ? Dispose-t-elle d’une « marge d’action » spécifique ou est-elle au contraire soumise à plus de contraintes que les autres universités turques ?

58 Je ne connais pas le fonctionnement interne de l’université depuis cinq ans. Mais la direction ne doit plus disposer aujourd’hui de marges d’action spécifique. L’Erdoganisme ne leur permettrait pas. Mais entre la conscience de l’existence de cette contrainte et son intériorisation dans les comportements, il y a une différence. Pas élus mais désormais nommés directement par Erdogan, les présidents d’université sont forcément enclins à intérioriser les contraintes. À Galatasaray ou ailleurs. Comme les relations diplomatiques franco-turques sont exécrables actuellement, la direction de l’université Galatasaray ne doit pas savoir sur quel pied danser. Comme on fait souvent dans pareille situation, on danse sur le pied proche du pouvoir.

59 Comment voyez-vous la situation des universités en Turquie ?

60 À l’image de la situation de la société turque. Écrasées par un pouvoir autocratique, minées de l’intérieur par des relations de clientèle exacerbées, forcées de réprimer toute expression de contestation même les plus banales et sous la pression d’une idéologie dédaignant le savoir au profit de la croyance et de l’adhésion. Ce n’est pas tout à fait comme la situation des universités dans le IIIe Reich allemand, mais ce n’est non plus très loin.

Quelques mots de conclusion ?

61 J’ai eu la chance de pouvoir enseigner, faire de la recherche et participer à la direction des universités dans deux pays différents pendant 35 ans, de 1979 à 2013. J’ai beaucoup aimé enseigner, faire de la recherche mais aussi surtout jouer le rôle d’agitateur d’idées. Je crois que je me définirai plutôt par ce type de qualificatif que par celui de chercheur ou seulement d’universitaire. Agitateur d’idées, je ne sais pas si je l’ai été vraiment, mais je me suis en tout cas efforcé de ne pas tomber dans le charlatanisme, de ne pas céder à l’ivresse médiatique, et la rigueur scientifique que j’ai apprise à l’université m’a aidé. La formation en économie est une très bonne discipline. Elle vous permet aussi d’être terre à terre et vous oblige à se poser des questions hic et nunc.

62 Les problèmes que j’ai rencontrés dans les deux universités à Paris I et à Galatasaray étaient bien sûr différents, ils se présentaient dans des contextes socio-politiques difficilement comparables. Mais de mon expérience personnelle des tâches de direction administrative, je retire un enseignement fondamental. Il faut que ces responsabilités soient limitées dans le temps, pas plus de cinq-six ans, pour deux raisons. D’abord parce que l’on garde une réelle énergie pour porter le changement au début du mandat. Et après quelques années d’exercice et les inerties administratives, les conservatismes corporatistes, etc., on comprend que l’on ne peut réaliser qu’une toute petite partie de projets initiaux. C’est le moment de partir. D’autres viendront en croyant « pouvoir déplacer les montagnes » et réussiront ainsi à réaliser quelques pas en avant, et ainsi de suite. Sinon rester longtemps dans la même fonction administrative vous rend soit cynique par fatigue soit un gestionnaire qui fait bouger les choses pour que rien ne bouge, pour paraphraser Lampedusa. Un autre avantage de cette rotation dans les fonctions de direction au sein de l’université est d’augmenter le nombre de personnes dans la communauté universitaire qui connaissent ce que l’on peut faire et ne pas faire en occupant ces fonctions de direction. Cela changera un peu le rapport des gouvernés

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aux gouvernants et réciproquement, et participera à la désacralisation de ce type de fonction notamment dans une société qui a fortement intériorisé l’autoritarisme comme c’est le cas en Turquie. Par ailleurs, sans tomber dans l’excès du scientisme arrogant, il est important que l’université joue un rôle plus actif dans les débats sociétaux, notamment face aux populismes qui émergent aux quatre coins du monde.

NOTES

1. Birikim, « revue mensuelle de culture socialiste » a été créée en 1975 par cinq intellectuels de gauche, dont Murat Belge, Ömer Laçiner, Can Yücel, Yavuz Çizmeci et Onat Kutlar. Elle a joué un rôle très important dans la critique du dogmatisme au sein de la gauche et a introduit en Turquie plusieurs débats traversant les gauches occidentales de cette époque, notamment une critique de fond du stalinisme, de l’URSS, à partir d’une perspective socialiste d’émancipation humaine. Lors de sa création, les fondateurs de Birikim s’étaient inspirés en partie de la revue britannique New Left Review, mais Birikim a joué un rôle similaire en Turquie à celui de la revue Socialisme et Barbarie dans les années 1960 en France. À partir de 1977 ou 1978, Birikim était en relation régulière en France avec la revue Dialectiques. Birikim est toujours publiée mensuellement à Istanbul. 2. Mehmet Ali Aybar (1908-1995) était un universitaire et juriste, une figure importante du mouvement socialiste, président du Parti ouvrier de Turquie (Türkiye İşçi Partisi) entre 1962 et 1969 et député de 1965 à 1973. Mehmet Ali Aybar aussi est, comme Ahmet İnsel, un ancien du Lycée Galatasaray (note d’Özgür Türesay). 3. ÖDP, Özgürlük ve Dayanışma Partisi. 4. Yeşil Sol Parti. 5. La loi électorale entrée en vigueur après le coup d’État de 1980 conditionne la représentation parlementaire à l’obtention d’au moins 10 % des voix au niveau national, ce qui a empêché les partis de gauche et les partis pro-kurdes d’entrer au Parlement. Mais ce seuil ne concerne pas les candidats indépendants ; s’applique alors le scrutin proportionnel dans chaque circonscription. D’où l’idée de présenter des candidats indépendants notamment dans des régions à forte population kurde et dans les très grandes circonscriptions des grandes villes.

AUTEURS

AHMET INSEL

Né en 1955 à Istanbul, Ahmet İnsel a fait des études d’économie à l’Université Paris I. Assistant, puis maître de conférences en économie dans la même université entre 1984 et 2002, puis professeur à l’université Galatasaray jusqu’en 2013. Membre du PCF entre 1975 et 1979, et en Turquie du Parti de la Liberté et de la Solidarité entre 1996 et 2003, actuellement membre

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fondateur du Parti Gauche-Vert, syndiqué à la SGEN-CFDT de 1980 au 2002 et Egitim-Sen de 2003 au 2013. Chroniqueur aux quotidiens Yeni Yüzyıl (1994-1999), Radikal (1999-2015) et Cumhuriyet (2015-2018) ; membre du collectif de la revue Birikim et du comité éditorial des éditions İletişim ; secrétaire de rédaction de la Revue du MAUSS de 1984 à 1999. Ouvrages publiés en français : La Turquie entre l’ordre et le développement (L’Harmattan, 1984), Dialogue sur le tabou arménien, avec Michel Marian (Liana Lévy, 2010), La nouvelle Turquie d’Erdogan (La Découverte, 2015 et en poche 2017). Pour les livres en turc, voir le site www.iletisim.com.tr

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Bureaucratic and Neoliberal Management in Academia A Franco-Chinese Dialogue between Two Anthropologists

Tang Yun, Katiana Le Mentec and Camille Noûs

1 The following text is the outcome of a series of exchanges between Tang Yun and Katiana Le Mentec on the Chinese and French Academic Systems. The dialogue was first launched during a 90-minutes recorded discussion on the 10th of February 2020, in the midst of the growing mobilization in the French academia against two new laws, one restructuring the retirement contribution system on a points-based system, and another one, the “Multi-Annual Research Programming Act” (loi de programmation pluriannuelle de la recherche – LPPR later renamed LPR), reinforcing the bureaucratization/ auditing /neoliberal turn in the French academic system following the vision first designed in the Bologna Declaration that was signed by 29 European countries in 1999 (Calame 2011)1. At the time, Tang Yun and her husband Zhang Yuan, both ethnology professors at the South-West Minzu University (Chengdu, PRC), were included in the visiting researcher’s program at the EHESS for one month to Katiana’s invitation. These three anthropologists were no strangers to each other. After a first encounter in Chengdu in Autumn of 2014, they kept in close contact and have collaborated on an array of shared interest. Their relationship is better framed in term of friendship, and from a Chinese point of view in terms of yuanfen (缘份, predestined affinity) and parallel kinships (fraternity), than in merely professional networking or guanxi2.

2 It does not always feel decent to complain about the French Academic system to colleagues who are trying to survive in more oppressive systems that ours, oppressive not necessarily in terms of financial resources – many countries provide far more generous salaries, working conditions, tools and operating budgets to teachers and researchers in academia than France – but in regards to the fierce advancement of neoliberal management measures: The notion of excellence is omnipresent; evaluation is based on purely quantitative thresholds; contractualisation, injunctions and goals are rampant; the project-based research system dominates; research topics are targeted on a short-term basis; the ideology of international “stars” leads to and reinforces an old-

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fashioned and highly hierarchical mandarin regime; the policy of “publish or perish” prevails, and so on. When Katiana proposed to her Chinese friends and colleagues to introduce to each other the limits of their respective academic system over a cup of tea, the aim was to go beyond the usual stories and feelings we are all used to sharing when we meet among colleagues from the academia. It was about considering the system as an organic whole, through a transversal lens, to reflect on the nuts and bolts, to try to acknowledge systemic forms and the roots of some problems3. The advantages of this approach were, especially in the context of the Multi-Annual Research Programming Act, to reflect upon what we could, in French academia, learn about other systems, and in particular the Chinese one, which, through its “Shanghai ranking”, represents and participates in this auditing turn in the international academia. While topics of discussion in western countries regarding the Chinese academic system have a tendency to concentrate on ideological censorship (for social sciences in particular) and practices of academic fraud, we tend to ignore the fact that the Chinese communist party launched, as early as 1993, measures (such as the 211 Program) that are precisely the aim of today’s French advocates of academia neoliberal reforms (so-called university “autonomy”4, contractualisation replacing public employment, quantitative indicators for evaluation, salary and bonuses associated to quantitatively identified results, and exacerbation of competition between actors and between institutions, project-based funding, identification of priority-fields by the ruling power for economical, social and political gains preferably short-termly applicable). To the point that we could provocatively ask if the French successive governments in the 21st century were not in fact aiming at a sinisation of the French Academic System5, even though social mobilisation in France clearly restrained its pace in the last 25 years.

3 This dialogue was first launched as an informal, off the cut discussion on a vast array of topics, we then both continued the discussion remotely, swinging the text back and forth to refine arguments and push further the reflection6. The choice to keep the original structure of the discussion entails a quite long piece, coming back in some parts to similar topics but from various angles. Understanding downside of time- consuming readings, we humbly think that this timely subject deserves such development. Here is a roadmap of this dialogue: We first explore the training of students emphasising systemic structures possibly harmful to critical thinking development. Then, the pression of publication from Master degree to professorship in China is discussed pointing out serious flaws such evaluation system induces. In the third part we present the few decades old academic points system in China. We discuss its origin, the “points’ world view” generalisation and show how problematic are the current indicators, on which rely recruitment, evaluation and the calculation of the salary, failing in nurturing stimulating and creative academic work. Hence representing a serious threat for our profession. The following parts discusses targeted research topics and assigned tasks from the government as well as national projects selection. They highlight different kinds of posture scholars take to survive and even thrive in such system. After few reflexions on integrity and possibility to change the academic system, the dialogue ends on the vision for Chinese Anthropology and the social role of social sciences.

4 Pitfalls in the current academia system mentioned here are not all associated to the neoliberal management turn and the capitalisation worldview but can be brough about by Kafkian bureaucracy as well as old and deeply anchored scholar practices. This dialogue is not all about criticism though, we try to be productive by proposing or

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identifying inspiring suggestion from colleagues, both at the systemic and the individual level.

5 Tang Yun, what is first popping into your mind regarding the Chinese academic system?

Part 1. Training: teaching critical thinking and changing the evaluation system

6 I will start from the training of scholars in China, because for me that may be at the root of some problems of the academic system. We are trained through primary school, middle school and then high school. By the end of high school, students (at the age 17 or 18) are supposed to form a kind of knowledge frame and worldview. It is not that they just know some concepts; they should acquire a logic of the knowledge. However, in China, in high school, teaching is mainly based on various examinations that test how many concepts or formulations you remember instead of helping you understanding them. As a result, students are very ‘knowledgeable’ in high school but forget the knowledge soon after the examination because they did not establish a link between different knowledges.

7 Isn’t what you are talking about reminiscent of what has been pointed at as a pedagogical practice typically inherited from the Confucianist school of learning and in particular imperial examinations in China that required applicants to know by heart a selection of “classics”, to acquire a standardized and selected points of view and world-frame to best serve the Empire?

8 Yes, this pedagogical way, based on examination to select candidates for the State bureaucracy, has been quite entrenched in the Chinese education system. It was supposed to allow access to office to anyone based on merits alone, but the examination protocol was clearly designed for a purpose that was not independent and critical thinking. However, it is not easy to erase in one century (the imperial examination was abolished in 1905) an education system that was enforced for two thousand years (since the Han Dynasty between 206AC and 220 BC). And when we got such a big population, it became even harder to establish an equal and just evaluation system. It is always a topic of discussion in China on establishing proper connection between the traditional and modern pedagogy. To make things simpler, I have to say most of us schooled in China were reduced to “points”, at the cost of missing the chance or the training to form a very independent way to think about the world. It is really problematic and quite frankly also very sad. We of course gradually got academic training in college. It is never late to start academic work, but we really spent too much time on scores in our most creative age. I believe this training has a great influence on the future academic life of students. Lots of them just do the research they are told to do; they apply concepts to data but do not really think about what this research could be because they do not establish links between knowledges.

9 What do you think could be done in high school to remedy this situation and allow better creativity and more independent thinking?

10 I think the most important would be a reform of examinations. The present college entrance examination in China is really hard for teenagers. The competition is fierce; sometimes, just a one point higher score could help you get into a good college. You have to work very hard and spend almost all your time on examination training aiming at improving your examination skill. Then you do not have time to think. And it is not

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helping students to establish a knowledge frame since they are forgetting what they studied in high school. They only remember pieces of ‘knowledge’.

11 This criticism of Chinese education has been strongly advocated by Huang Quanyu (2014) professor at Miami University. For him, students in China have solid educational foundation, but the system’s emphasis on test taking at the younger levers and do not allow curiosity and critical thinking to blossom up. Susann Bregnbaek (2011) mentions the dilemma faced by parents and professors she interviewed in such context: “Parents face a double bind since doing well at school and being able to pass tests require the kind of extensive cramming that is perceived as inadequate in itself and possibly even harmful. The teachers whom I interviewed similarly face a double bind since devoting more time to critical thinking, student interaction and experiments may end up jeopardising their students’ futures, since it means taking time away from teaching students the kinds of skills that are necessary in order to pass examinations and get to the next level within the educational system”.

12 What you describe actually reminds me of what has been identified in neoliberal management. Such management identifies “goals” to reach that are quantitatively evaluated. It is applied to more and more professional sectors nowadays: Amazon workers’ daily goals are well known, as are those of their delivery persons. In academia the equivalent would be for instance a certain amount of publications. The perverse effect of such systems is that workers, but also people in training for such management system, focus mainly on “goals/indicators” and put quality aside. In the health sector such management can do real damage. Adapted to the education system, it is training to work more on how to give an “expected answer” and to comply to standards in order to reach the predetermined “goal”. The system encourages you to spend time and energy on reaching the benchmarks that have been chosen, succeeding in a specific quantitative examination, and not on actually learning to think by yourself. I read that final exams in certain highly selective colleges in France – Grandes Ecoles – have been criticized because of similar flaws that led to acute standardisation of thought, lack of creativity and originality. Students study pragmatically, with the sole aim of succeeding in their entrance and final exams.

13 Sure, students have to be very pragmatic to focus on examination. No one could take the risk of losing the ‘entrance ticket’ for college. What is more, high school examinations usually ask questions and provide just one standard correct answer, such as a correct definition. Repeating these examinations also gradually undermined our creativity. It is really a problem of basic education. I would not say teenagers benefit nothing in high school, because lots of them become very outstanding. What I believe is that our education system could make more efforts on shaping the knowledge frame and encouraging an independent way of thinking. Less examination, more reading, more reflection, more discussion. And schools could also give students opportunities to get acquainted with different disciplines, rather than just making them take courses in Chinese language, Literature, Math, Physics and Chemistry, etc. Then before graduating high school they would have a basic idea of what anthropology, philosophy, psychology are. It would help students choose their major in college. As for my generation, most of us chose our major in college without a clear idea of what it was. It is a problem in China because for a long time, it was almost impossible to change your major once in college. Once you were in, you had to get enough points for your degree. Take myself as an example; I got my Bachelor’s degree in Economy and Management. I was a good student with good scores and scholarship every year, but I did not like it. At that time, what I found myself really interested in was the diversity of culture instead of economic trends. I spent lots of time in the library reading various kinds of books.

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These readings helped me a lot when I started to learn anthropology. However, even today, I am always thinking that if I had realized that anthropology is my favourite discipline in high school and had been given systematic training in social science in college, things would be different. So, I think that for high school we need this kind of improvement. Of course, it is really hard.

14 Yes. This standard way to evaluate through closed questions is coming to France as well. Not really in high school, I think, because our classes are far less crowded than yours. But more and more, BA (Licence) students are evaluated through multiple choice exams with no writing, just ticking boxes. It is cheaper for the university, which has the injunction to be financially independent and to become just another competitive company in the market by minimizing spending to increase earnings. A machine processes the tests. For me it is a question of political choice regarding education. Multiple choice exams are adapted to the choice of decreasing investment in education. It also devaluates the university vis-à-vis private schools, which are mostly accessible to the economically dominant class. The solution would be policies that consider education as a crucial sector for the future of the society, to train people from all walks of life who could find novel solutions to difficult problems, train them to think out of the box, push back the frontiers of knowledge and abilities. But that would require recruiting more university teachers, real human beings who are able to give customized feedback and to engage in discussion with students. Multiple choice exams are adapted to a society of standardized minds.

15 In China, this current situation in high school influences the context of study in College. In College, the most important pedagogical tool should be the communication between teachers and students. Teachers should encourage students to think actively and to express their ideas openly. For example, teachers won’t just present the definition of a concept proposed by Max Weber, but also explain why and how he reached his views and organizing some discussion during teaching. By doing this, students may establish their academic thinking in various ways. But, in most situations, lots of university teachers just tell students “This are Weber’s ideas, this is Durkheim’s definition”, without explaining what the contribution of their theories is to other scholars or what these ideas might contribute to the study on the contemporary world. Students need to establish links between theories in a proper way, but they do not get enough training in it. Actually, understanding the links between concepts is more essential than just remembering the definition of each concept. For example, when students read Pierre Bourdieu in my class, they find themselves lost in his work if they do not learn how he produced his ideas.

16 I also feel students need to learn about other researchers’ ideas and research processes in order to learn how to collect data, connect the information and identify processes that could be expressed through original ideas, not simply to force exogenous concepts and analysis upon their data. When knowledge is disconnected from the social context, there is a lack of epistemology and reflexivity. I remember one French student, Boris Svartzman, who studied in the Fudan Sociology Department, being surprised when he came to realize this disconnection in his MA classes. In an entire course on the Chicago School, neither the professors nor the students would suggest reflecting upon its relevance to the ongoing urban restructuration/demolition outside the campus door in Shanghai.

17 This is the key problem in the academic system in China. Most scholars carry out their research in the universities or academic institutes. I obtained a researcher position in a

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university, which means I have to accomplish “researching work” and teaching obligations each year. We used to be able to link the two obligations: accumulating theories and field data for teaching and developing our thoughts from discussions with students during teaching. But now there is a kind of preeminence of “academic task” (funded projects, required task from the state, etc.). We do not have time anymore to establish links between teaching and researching. Most of the professors just teach with a textbook. Students just receive “ideas” and cannot really establish their own way of thinking.

18 It is not embedded in a research, with a research question, debates, hypothesis on collected data. The whole process of research is missing in the teaching.

19 The problem you mention also occurs in France and in other neoliberalised universities in general. One of the main causes seems to be precarious employment of teachers. In France it is said that about 30% of university teachers (mainly at the Bachelor/Licence level – precisely where the best pedagogy practices are needed) live in great precariousness, and not only financially. They are under pressure because they are usually in the midst of preparing their PhDs or searching for postdocs or a permanent position. This instability is exacerbated by the demand to simultaneously carry out many tasks (administration, publishing, etc.). This context makes it difficult for them to prepare well-designed classes and to refine their pedagogy over the years. Second, on a more structural level, French public policies (like the Multi-Annual Research Programming Act) concentrate research funds on few elite sites, fostering inequality between elite universities (with research) and mass universities (where teaching is separated from research)7. An anonymous “homeless adjunct” blogged a quite insightful analysis a few years ago about the five easy steps needed to kill the university. After “defund public higher education”, “deprofessionalize and impoverish the professors”, “move in a managerial/administrative class who take over governance of the university” and “incorporate culture and corporate money”, he identified the last step as “Destroy the Students”. He mentions precisely what you observed: “you dumb down and destroy the quality of the education so that no one on campus is really learning to think, to question, to reason. Instead, they are learning to obey, to withstand “tests” and “exams”, to follow rules, to endure absurdity and abuse. Our students have been denied full-time available faculty, the ability to develop mentors and advisors, and faculty-designed syllabi which change each semester”8.

20 Another cause in France might be the fact that teaching is clearly devaluated vis-à-vis research, both in term of recruitment and evaluation of the quality of the pedagogy. Compared with Anglophone countries, I feel a lack of reflection on pedagogy and training for teaching at the postgraduate level. Training for teaching at this level is not being provided. It is like, “you are a researcher; therefore, you have the inner ability to teach what you know and what you do.” One possible solution to this issue in France and China would be to re-evaluate the quality of teaching, and in particular to avoid evaluation on the basis only of academic results, which tends to rely solely on quantitative indicators. Professor Feng Dacheng (2015) pointed out how non- quantifiable work, that is, precisely the most valuable and important part of teaching, generally fails to be considered in the Chinese Academic System. According to him, the assessment of a teacher’s work – and of her students’ improvement – is extremely difficult to express numerically. This is true but reducing the use of quantitative indicators would be a first step in the good direction. Today’s teachers, forced to focus on goals for their own evaluation, recruitment and advancement, tend to drown in the calculation of how much funds they have collected, how many projects they have secured, and of course, how many articles they published lest they perish!

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Part 2. Publishing academic papers in China: from Master to professorship

21 Ah, we have that publishing pressure in China, too. It begins even before recruitment to academia! In China, after graduating from high school you obtain a BA degree (4 years) and then a MA degree (3 years). This is the training for most social science students. You are required to publish at least one paper for your MA. Without the publication, you cannot get your degree. But it is not as strict as the publishing requirement for a PhD and a professorship. For the MA, publishing in any officially recognized journal qualifies.

22 In that case is the paper still evaluated by the Journal?

23 The MA committee does not evaluate the paper according to the content of the paper. It is just a box to check: “published two papers”, regardless of the topic and the content.

24 I heard you often need to pay to publish a paper in a Chinese Journal. How much does it cost?

25 Some students pay 300 RMB for one paper. Around 35 euros. It is not very expensive. This allows students to do some cheating to check that “publishing box” and focus on their own research. But Zhang Yuan and I encourage our students to write real papers. Then, we recommend them to what we call “real formal academic journals” (正式学术期刊, zhengshi xueshu qikan). When we say some journals are “real formal academic” ones, it does not mean that others are fake. All academic journals are ranked from A to D. They are evaluated according to certain standards, including the citation rates (引用率, yinyong ju) . There is no requirement for the ranking of the journal in which MA students publish. Many journals ranked D accept paid papers with no evaluation. For C journals MA students cannot publish by themselves; they need our name as the co-author.

26 Why?

27 Because there are a limited number of pages in each journal. The citation rate for MA students’ papers are much lower than those of professors.

28 I see, the journals tend to select papers that will increase their own reputation, to increase their own ranking. I have heard of such twisted – although unsurprising – effects of the academic journal auditing system.

29 Everyone in Chinese academia has the pressure to publish, even professors. It is really competitive. Few “real formal academic journal” would accept an MA student’s paper, even if it is really good. Students are required to put the supervisor name as the second author. Sometimes the supervisor would even be the first author, so that the supervisor can check his or her own “publishing box”. But in that case, students can check their publishing box, too, to receive their diploma. I always put our students as first author, as a sign of respect for their work.

30 Do professors participate in the writing process or does the student write on their own?

31 If they pay for the publishing, we let them go ahead alone. But if we recommend the paper, we give them advice, and sometimes we co-write some parts because it is also a form of training in academic writing. In both cases, we do lots of editing to make sure the students’ ideas are clear enough. In addition, before the writing begins, we will usually organize a reading seminar. We decide on a book for review according to the

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students’ interest. We read the book and related publications together. Students present their perspectives and identify a proper ‘angle’ for their papers. After they finish their drafts, we have more discussion and edit them. So, the main ideas and structure of the paper are the students. This way students do not panic when finishing their degree paper. In last years, we have found that this training really makes a difference!

32 Yes, it must be time consuming, but it is the best way to teach them how to think and write by themselves! I also dedicate a tremendous time to train my students to write in an academic manner. The result is there, and the students are quite grateful for it. While it is stimulating for me as well, it is however clearly slowing down my own research’s schedule.

33 It is time consuming and counts nothing in our own evaluation. We got no points on this training effort. So, some supervisors just believe reading and editing students’ paper is wasting their time. And you could often hear complaints from master students that they email their supervisors their paper but receive no feedback.

34 When you get to the PhD level, in order to get the PhD degree, you need to publish two papers in journals with a ranking of C or higher. The requirement can also be higher depending on the university. It is hard for a journal to obtain the C rank. If you are published in a C journal your paper is considered good. When teachers want a professorship, only papers published in A, B and C-level journals are considered.

35 What do you think about this ranking? Should journals be ranked? Are all papers published in high ranking journals really good? What is the evaluation process?

36 Some journals are good. In rank A, most papers are good. But still, some of the papers are published through guanxi relationship. You have good guanxi with the editor, so you can publish a paper in a short time. Through the guanxi system, a researcher can ‘bribe’9 his way to publishing a mediocre paper in a very highly ranked journal. As for us, we do not rely on this kind of relationship. We do not want to seek relationships by ‘bribing’. I prefer my relationships with editors to be academic. As for PhD students, they experience great pressure since they need to publish two papers in journal ranked C at least in 3-4 years. This places them in competition with professors who also have pressure to publish.

37 Are the papers taken from their PhD thesis, as is the case in academic systems such as in the US?

38 It can be extracted from the PhD thesis, but it is complicated because of the timeline of the PhD program. We usually have three or four years to do the PhD. It is a very short time. So, you write the paper first, and propose it to some journals, then it is on the waiting list. It can take several months or even longer before the paper is accepted. Some authors take the time to do some relationship building to get it published. Some journals establish good anonymous review systems and will send the author the remarks for improving the draft. And some journals even organize seminars for publication, inviting several scholars who are writing papers on a similar topic to discuss their papers together. So, it takes time.

39 I see, they write early because otherwise it would be too hard to get published in time to get the degree. But the first year they do not have research data. What is the topic of the paper then?

40 Yes, exactly. That is the problem. For some students, it is impossible to publish before graduating. Some PhD students just give money. There is a kind of industry, an academic industry in China. There are agencies that can help you get a space in an academic Journal. They can even charge you like 10 thousand euros.

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41 RMB you mean?

42 No, no, euros.

43 That is expensive!

44 Yes! I did not know it could be so expensive, until some years ago a colleague from another university paid such a large amount of money to an agency for a B ranked journal. If you are trying to get a professorship or career advancement, publishing in a very high ranked journal helps a lot. But truth be told if your paper is really bad you are paying for nothing.

45 I have heard of the cash-per-publication reward policy developed in some universities in China since the late 1990s. In regard to what you are saying, its looks like a well-oiled system in which researchers pay to have a paper published for career evaluation but can later be rewarded with cash by their university, which itself needs to have a high level of publication for its own evaluation. It is like a return on investment both for the researcher and the university. It is a pity because none of this energy is adapted to researchers’ pace and needs; it only meets the requirement to check the appropriate boxes of the institution’s own evaluation system according to policy standards. It feels like an unproductive system. To some extent we also have such a twisted system growing in France. For instance, if researchers want to publish a book, they need to pay a significant amount – several thousands of euros – to scientific publishers. They need to search for funding through institutions, which provide funds according to their record, which in turn is evaluated through standard quantitative indicators. It is a vicious circle of exclusion, a system tending to favour those who are already most favoured. In order to publish the results of your research, you need to embrace bureaucratic indicators and standards, or you must have financial capital to spare. The Multi-Annual Research Programming Act will exacerbate this two-speed system by increasing salaries through bonuses paid at the discretion of the administrative hierarchy (such as university presidents). These bonuses will be given according to records in publishing, securing a national or international project, and so on. In short, finding extra money becomes the only way for a researcher to collect basic data and to publish when the whole incentive system switches from “going beyond the frontiers of knowledge”10 to “going beyond the frontiers of your own wallet”. Money becomes fundamental and intrinsic to the researcher’s life world; it is no longer the sole concern of academic institutions and bureaucrats. Researchers are more and more encouraged to become good entrepreneurs; to find money becomes the best way to, in fact, accumulate more capital – monetary capital, but also social and reputational capital. I really do think that this system is ill-suited to attract the best applicants for the future of science and academia. Even though many of us are severely critical toward the “pay to publish” institution, and some colleagues even refuse individual bonuses,11 it appears to be a widely legalized system in today’s international academic world.

46 In China, cash-per-publication reward policies differ from university to university. Some universities are ‘generous’ since they need more publications to increase their ranking or to get more funding from the State. It seems quite positive since it does encourage Chinese scholars to work hard and publish more papers. However, as you mentioned, the social sciences cannot be evaluated according to quantitative evaluation standards. What is more, capital is two-faced; it encourages some researchers, but destroys many more. It is quite similar in China: Some scholars sound like businessmen calculating the contents of their wallet when writing and choosing their activities. Some refuse the invitation of journals with good reputations because they are ranked low and would not allow them to get enough publication bonuses. It

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also encourages scholars to continue the ‘bribe’ practices as well as these agencies facilitating publication.

47 What about these agencies, are they legal?

48 No, it is a ‘grey industry’ that operates secretly. The agencies do not promise that you will be published; they just promise to persuade editors through their own guanxi, and you pay to access their guanxi. This is what happened to that colleague of mine. It helped him secure the publication of his paper. Even good papers need guanxi to be published in certain journals because of the competition. But PhD students are usually charged seven hundred to one thousand euros for a C-level journal.

49 Do you mean the money is not used for actual journals and book production expenses such as book payments are made in France to publishing houses? That the editors of the ranked journal accepting the money are corrupt? They could earn side money because of their position.

50 Yes. Some become really rich. As an example, I know someone from College who became an editor after obtaining his BA degree. By the time I got my PhD, so in five years, he had two apartments and a car, which is impossible with a basic editor income.

51 What is the process to become editor of an academic journal in China? Do editors also do research and teaching? What is their position? Are they usually associate professors at a university?

52 A professional editor should first get the certification of editorship and attend editorial training courses regularly. They are from different discipline and are editing papers from their own major. Most of them also teach at universities or institutes. Some journals are managed by a university, so most editors are also teaching and supervising graduate students. Editors usually get an MA or PhD degree after their editorship certification. Some get the editorial position because of their achievement in their major. Some journals invite good scholars to be guest editors of an issue, or to be “editor-in-charge” （主编 zhubian）. Since editors are also evaluated according to their academic achievements, they are required to publish academic papers in academic journals. Obviously, it is easy for them because they are in the editor system; they have the guanxi needed to publish. So, they do not have to work as much on their papers, or on relationship building as people trained as researchers. I am not saying all editors are the same: some editors are really professional and really do serious academic research. I am presenting the possible problem this system leads to.

53 In China, the consequences of this publication system are dire for PhD students, but also for professors like us, who do not want to participate in the ‘bribe system’. We have lower chances of getting published because there is little space left in the journals once the papers accepted through guanxi are included. There is a strong competition among the papers that avoid the bribe system. There are lots of applicants to publish! However, I still believe what we should first do to change the situation is to take the time to write really good papers, otherwise we are just complaining instead of making a positive change in the system. I am happy to find some journals are willing to publish good papers written by PhD students.

54 Yes, that means the system is thankfully not entirely locked. I would add that, another positive action that we researchers could take could be to simply boycott editing houses and journals that fall short of basic principles of academic deontology. Refuse to read and write for their publications. I am personally more and more concerned about my choices in that regard. In a

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capitalist world, consumers (who pay for a product) have more power than producers of value (in this context, us researchers). Here we are both consumers and producers!

55 However, it would be also helpful if institutions could lower the pressure on publishing. Everyone, from PhDs to professors, are mainly evaluated and recruited regarding the number of publications!

56 Not only them. Even the administrative staff in universities. They are also required to publish papers in academic journals, because most of them want to have both “administrative” and “professor” status. For instance, if you are the director of a big university center, you usually let the secretary do the administrative work for you while you work on your research. But usually your secretary is also a teacher which means she or he is required to publish papers to get promotion. In many universities and institutions, administrative staff members are from the faculty.

57 Do you mean that universities hire administrative staff among PhDs or MAs who fail to secure an academic position? In that case they already would know the academic system, and it is a way for them to get an inside position allowing them to move up to teaching and researching at a later time?

58 In many universities, there are two main categories of staff: teaching and administrative. The latter are called ‘teaching assistants’ (教学辅导, jiaoxue fudao). It is so competitive for PhD students nowadays that some institutions will only recruit teaching assistants with PhDs or above. There is less pressure for them in the annual evaluation, but most of them are seeking to transfer to teaching positions. Therefore, they also have to work hard on publication. So, administrative work does not help them advance their academic careers. As for professors who also are the director of a centre or department, the administrative position could bring them more advantages for publication. It establishes them good guanxi.

59 Do you think that the quality of the research published in Chinese academic journals is affected by this system?

60 Yes, quite a lot. Just like journals in France and many other countries, journals in China also prefer to establish their ‘character’ or ‘style’ in many ways in order to survive and stay competitive. The editor may decide which line to follow and the topic for each volume. It definitely influences the academic work being done. In addition, to accumulate influence in the academic world, journals welcome papers with big names. With such fierce competition, publication is difficult for young scholars, who may actually write better papers than some senior scholars. They may wait for years for a ‘good’ publication, especially when they focus on some classic but not popular field. When I say ‘good’, it is because publication itself is not that hard. In China, it is not very hard to initiate a journal. Scholars can come together, apply for a book number, and launch it. But it is difficult to reach a rank of C and above. Since all academic evaluation requires at least a C-level publication, it is not easy for journals lower than C to get good papers. The evaluation of a journal is very complicated. One of them is the journal’s “influence”, the Clout Index. It is calculated by a complicated formulation, including the rate of citation of papers published in the journal in a year. But the problem is, some papers are focusing on some fundamental topics, and most of them are quite difficult to follow up. These papers may take years for citations to accrue. Journals anxious to get high index every year therefore have to refuse papers with low potential for citation. The evaluation of journals is supposed to be an incentive for them, but when it becomes too frequent (e.g., annual), it may push journals into ‘a fast

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academic industry’. As a result, scholars abandon long-term projects that are not favored by high-ranking journals. For some A- and B-ranked journals, it is much easier to remain influential. They can maintain some space for ‘difficult papers’, while other journals prefer not taking the risk. The most popular suggestions or advices for young researchers are: if you want to publish a paper on a journal, first study what kind of topic it likes. It sounds nothing wrong, but it could destroy the independency of a young research.

61 Discussing the organizational structure of academic presses, David Graeber (2014: 84) considers that “even if anything like the works of Boas, Malinowski, or Evans-Pritchard were written today, it would never find a publisher – except, perhaps, outside the academy”. He is not the only one to make such statement. You are pointing out one of the crucial problems that academics face in countries where publication has become the norm for managerial evaluation. It has been said to have biased, unproductive, and detrimental effects12. We often quote this story about a paleontologist who discovered several dinosaur teeth and decided to publish one paper on each tooth to adjust to his university requirement even though it had no scientific rationale. There are other, much worse effects of this system, such as scientific misconduct, that are increasing with the spread of neoliberal management in academia. There has been deep analysis of this process. The quantitative auditing system has been shown to led to ethically questionable behavior, an “economics of cheating” that is giving science in general a very bad image. Retraction Watch is an organization that lists the dysfunctions of the world of scientific publishing, showing that about 1500 articles are retracted every year, two thirds of them for misconduct.13 The San Francisco Declaration on Research Assessment – DORA, which was initiated in 2013 – developed a set of recommendations. But research managerial tendencies do not seem to be backing down. Worse yet, in France the Multi-Annual Research Programming Act takes it as a model to follow! Julien Gossa calls it a ‘programmatic law for structural scientific misbehavior’: “in a context of high competition, researchers may objectively and mechanically benefit from exaggerating the scope of their work, from taking shortcuts, rushing to put their data online without verifying them, and even embellishing them”.14 The system you are depicting is quite frightening for us in France since this new law aims at focusing even more on such evaluation logic based on bibliometrics. The French government seems to see China as a source of inspiration; they look at Chinese publication statistics and conclude that French scientists are lagging behind. Chinese numbers are through the roof, and are increasing by the day.15 But when we consider that the Chinese system partially leads to non-evaluated papers being published or to publishing in return for payment, these numbers can be relativized. The number of publications in China might also be high because the evaluation system is cheap. Like the multiple choice test we were talking about before. It is chosen not because it is actually a good way to identify quality but because evaluation is a time-consuming activity and the number of people to evaluate is so high, especially in China. Government decided to use so-called “objective indicators” since the decision was made that researchers could not be trusted and had to be evaluated through an “external” and “quantitative” management system. Academic publishing in China is huge not necessarily because publications are associated with specific research projects but because they are an unnegotiable requirement from MAs to professors. What is especially excruciating for researchers from France to China is that the Journal Impact Factor has been proved by now to be a non-pertinent way to evaluate individual activity and progress. François Métivier (2020) pointed at on several occasions that each country’s share in the world’s scientific production is correlated to its own share in the world’s investment in scientific research: “production and citations are merely, first and foremost, the reflection of the financial investment a country makes in its research.”

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62 Exactly. In China, we have the same saying about our famous senior scholars: that none of them would have survived in today’s evaluation system because their papers would not reach a high enough number of citations. It is truly hard to be ‘objective’ in evaluation. The real problem is not finding an objective method, but rethinking ‘evaluation’ itself. Do we need evaluation in the academic world? Some will say yes because they think scholars would stop researching and writing without such pressure. But academic research is creative work. Pressure could consist in academic reputation instead of so-called objective standards. You will not be ‘lazy’ if no one respects you as a scholar. You love your research, and you will not give it up. Some regard the evaluation system as an objective standard for calculating salaries. They praise the cash-per-publication reward policy according to a logic of capital. The ‘generosity’ of universities or research institutes did in fact create a boom of publications and increased citation rates, but do these papers contribute to their field? If all we do is publish papers to increase publication numbers, we do not have time left to think about the future of the discipline. Who will have a prosperous future if the discipline itself declines?

63 Yes, and this could be said of the humanities and social sciences in general. In the end, it impacts the credibility of scientific and academic research.

64 You appear to be criticizing a system that forces PhD and MA students to publish in ranked journals as a requirement of receiving a degree. What would you suggest as a better system to evaluate the writings of MA and PhD students?

65 I will not deny that some publication pressure can be a healthy stimulation for graduate students. I also encourage students to write short essays, for example book reviews, an introduction to some theory, fieldwork reports, etc. By doing this, students learn how to write academic papers and accumulate material for their degree paper. A degree only takes 3 or 4 years, so it is better for students to concentrate on writing something related to their degree paper. Instead of formal publication, why not organize anonymous reviews of the students’ paper in the second year? Then students could get some feedback from scholars other than their supervisors. When they know they can get serious feedback on their paper, they get motivated to read, think and write. And the process helps their further fieldwork and degree paper. In a word, considering the competition in contemporary publication system, anonymous reviews might be a better evaluation for graduate students before they are qualified to have their defense. Some universities have already carried out reforms in this way and removed the requirement for students to publish in journals. For most universities, about 3-5 months before the paper defense, most degree paper are reviewed anonymously by 3 scholars from other universities or institutions. The reviewers will give their remarks and their decision if the paper is outstanding, or is qualified for paper defense, or is supposed to do more editing before paper defense or is not qualified. If two reviewers believe this paper is not qualified, then the student has to delay his/her paper defense to November or next June. It helps students as well as their supervisors, but if students got review on their writing in their second year, they could be better prepared for degree paper.

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Part 3. Calculating your income: The academic point system

66 Let us move on to the topic of income and its association to the evaluation. In France all civil servants, researchers, and teachers have a nationally fixed salary, which increases through seniority. This national system for academia was in place in China too, before the 1990s. The income is not associated to your evaluation, except few bonus you can apply to or when you secure a European project for instance, also when you pass the highly competitive evaluation required from Associate Professorship (chargé de recherche/Maître de conference) to Professorship (Directeur de recherche). This evaluation depends on several factors but mainly the decision is taken by a committee of academic peers from your own discipline. There are no common official indicators. In anthropology, from what I saw, from recruiting to career advancement, the evaluation is mainly qualitative. The Multi-Annual Research Programming Act threatens to change the system introducing more bonus and new status disconnected from the civil servant system, and possibly connecting evaluation to salaries. What about in China now?

67 The academic achievement and salaries of Chinese scholars are evaluated in terms of ‘academic points’ (科研分, keyan fen). The calculation of points and the point requirement depends on the university or institution you belong to. In my university, for instance, I am now a professor at Grade 4, so I am supposed to reach about 600 points in 3 years, 200 points per year. For an associate professor at Grade 6, it is about 540 points. The grade is kind of further ranking scholars based on their position. Grade 1 to 4 are for professors; Grade 5 to 7 are for associate professors. Scholars of higher grade are required to score more points and get higher salary. Publishing a paper in a C-level journal gives you 45 points. But you also get points if you secure a national or provincial project. A national project can give you more than 200 points depending on how many members are in the project and if you are the leader or not. Another way of getting points is to write policy proposals to the government, and if your proposal receives an official endorsement from a high government officer, then you get points. For example, if it is from the provincial governor, you may get 100 points (I do not remember the criteria for it). Some scholars are fancy with writing proposal since it is short (usually 1500 to 3000 characters). While many scholars believe the reply of a high government officer should not be counted with ‘academic points’, or at least not that many. It is always a good thing to share your academic work to the governance and social management, but I take it as an obligation which never fits the cash-per-proposal logic. What’s important to note is that if you fail to get enough points, your salary will be reduced, and it will have an impact on your promotion.

68 If you get a national project, can you keep points for the following year?

69 In my university, before 2011, you could not defer using your points until the following year. Since 2012, with the reform on the points system, you could. I did not mention that when you get more points than required, you can get bonuses for the extra points, 8-9 Euros per point. Since 2012, the evaluation is for 3 years. If you get a national project on your first year, and you are afraid you won’t reach 200 points the following year, then you can defer some points until the next year, thus giving up the bonus of these points. 3-year evaluations are more reasonable since it takes months or years to do research, writing and publishing. I now feel particularly safe because I just got a national project, which will allow me to concentrate on fieldwork, research and teaching, so I have no pressure to publish for the next 2 years. In 2 years, when I have

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gathered all my data, it is time for writing and publication. Most universities and research institutions in China now use 3-year or 4-year evaluations, but some do not.

70 What other activities and productions give you points?

71 Books! But it depends on the publishing house. Publishers also are categorized into ranks: A, B, C, D... If your book is published by a publishing house ranked A, then you get at least 240 points. 100 if it is B. For C you sometimes get nothing. I do not remember the exact numbers. Only A- and B-level publishing houses allow you to get points. So, publishing houses in C and below have more pressure, it is hard for them to get good book proposals.

72 I remember you received some awards for publishing. Did they also give you points? How does the award system for scholars work in China?

73 There are provincial and national awards for publishing. You can apply to them with one of your latest articles or books. There are several categories, such as the “outstanding field report of the year”. Each category has first, second, third prize. You get different points according to the level and kind of the award and depending on whether it is a national or provincial competition. As the first author of an outstanding report, I got about 80 points that year. Usually you only get points for awards recognized by government offices. You also have awards provided by scholars. But such awards do not give you any points to secure your salary. It is only for your reputation. In this scholar award system, I was listed as one of the most influential scholars in China for my discipline in both 2017 and 2019, but this did not give me any points. It is good for your reputation and it is uplifting. You feel happy! And people feel happy for you! You can be proud, but you do not get any points. It gives you no advantage if you want to apply for professorship.

74 Do researchers serve on the award committees?

75 They do for awards issued by the government. They help review and evaluate your work.

76 Do you get points for teaching, too?

77 Yes, but in the category of ‘teaching hours.’ Teaching is not calculated in the 600 points for 3 years. It is calculated separately and according to how many hours you teach, how many students you supervise, etc. The amount of points also depends on the course level. An MA course is 51 points, 1.5 hour per week, 17 weeks per term. At the undergraduate level, two courses can give you at least 80 points, depending on the size of the class. The standard class is 40 students. If there are more students in your class, you get more points. For instance, last semester I taught two big classes of 50 students each and I got over 120 points.

78 The point goal for teaching depends on your position. There are three faculty positions at our university now: researcher, teacher, and teacher-researcher. I used to be a researcher and now I am a teacher-researcher. For researcher positions, there is a lot of publishing pressure but less so for teaching. Teaching one MA course and one PhD course per year is enough. For teachers, there is a great pressure on teaching, but less on research. Teachers are also required to publish on teaching skills and pedagogy. For those who hold teacher-researcher positions, there is less pressure on research than in researcher positions and less pressure on teaching than in teacher positions. Teacher- researcher is a new position set up in 2015. It allows for more flexibility in teaching and researching arrangements. I became a teacher-researcher in 2018 just before I finally

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got my Professor Position. Since then, I do not need to rush to publish every year. I can think about writing papers more deliberately. In the past, I did publish some papers which would have been much better if I could have worked on them a little bit more. I published them because I needed the points. It is quite frustrating. These papers built my reputation, but if I had spent more time on them, they could have been better. So, it seems I managed to survive quite well in this evaluation system; nevertheless, I regret those publications I did in a hurry. I believe I could do much better if I was not stressed out by this points system.

79 What do scholars think about this system? Is it a good way to determine salaries according to teaching or research productivity?

80 Evaluation is never objective. The points appear to be an equitable yardstick. Points can translate unmeasurable academic activities into numbers, but it cannot measure their achievements. The point system fails to encourage scholars to improve their teaching since the points you get for a course are decided according to whether it is a required course (必修课, bixiuke) or an optional course (选修课, xuanxiuke), or if it is part of a popular major with more students. The bigger the audience, the higher the points. Students will send feedback on each course at the end of the term, but it does not affect how many points you get. If student feedback are bad and not enough students register for your optional course, the course may be canceled, and you do not get any points. But for required courses, usually, student feedback does not influence the points the teacher scores.

81 Does this situation heighten competition between university teachers to get popular courses instead of classes that are less advantageous for their income? Does it spark conflicts and create sour relationships between scholars in a way that is detrimental to collaboration between scholars?

82 Yes, it does. For each major in university, there will be a standard training plan (培养方案, peiyang fang’an) approved by the State Ministry of Education. It lists all the points students get for each course and what courses they are supposed to take each year. As I said, as a professor, required courses bring you more points than optional courses. New teachers usually cannot get required courses since they are all already taken by seniors; they can only set up an optional course.

83 Teachers usually prepare their course in a flexible way. You can choose a textbook for teaching, or you can establish your own syllabus for the course. The points system will not take this into consideration. It does not encourage teachers to improve their syllabus or teaching methods. Of course, good teachers will strive to improve on their own accord. If you are not too bad at teaching, students’ feedback won’t affect your ability to keep teaching a particular class. So, if a mediocre but senior teacher still wants to teach a course, it means young teachers have no chance to take the course. Department directors will of course try to balance teachers, but this balancing effort may never take the teaching itself into consideration. On the other hand, you can design your course whichever way you want. It is quite possible for students to learn lots of quantitative research methods in a course called ‘Fundamental Theories on Social Science’. We are under a reform on the courses: teachers will now apply for a course and present their teaching plans, then all teachers of this major decide who should take the course.

84 This sounds like an improvement. Can you explain a little bit more the income system for academia in China? You said that

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scholars who fail to reach the goal see their income decrease while others accumulate more points than the official goal and then receive extra money. How much can your income decrease if you do not reach the goal?

85 It depends. Our salary is broken up in three parts, but the calculation is not nationally regulated, so the amounts of these parts really vary depending on each university. First there the basic salary, a fixed amount according to your position. It is about 1/4 of the salary, not that much. The second part is called jingjie (津贴), you could call it a bonus. If you are in a “full researcher” position, the bonus can be higher than the “full teacher” position depending on your university. As an associate researcher I used to get about 3000 RMB each month for this bonus part. Now it is less, about 2000 RMB since I am in a teacher-researcher position. The third part consists of welfare and other benefits, including health insurance, housing etc. Since we do not have an apartment on campus, we get several hundred RMB to cover the rent. Actually, it may cost 3000 RMB a month to rent a 3-bedroom apartment for a family of four like ours in a good (not nice) region in Chengdu. But it is better than nothing!

86 At the CNRS I currently get an extra 90 euros a month on account of living in the Paris area, where pressure on real estate makes rents much higher than elsewhere in the country.

87 With 90 euros in Paris you get nothing! (Both laughing)

88 The welfare part of the salary includes 300 RMB for food and other things like that. This part is also fixed each month. If you are short on points you only lose all or part of your bonus for the entire following year. With this pressure to attain the required points or possibly losing their bonus, some associate professors prefer not to apply for professorship despite being qualified. They believe it will require too much effort to get enough points. The fixed basic salary is very low, one or two thousand RMB, not enough to pay the rent in a provincial capital, so losing the bonus can bring you in financial trouble.

89 An important part of the welfare salary is called a “teaching bonus” (课时费). In some universities, teachers get extra pay for teaching, while other universities just record that you reached your points goal for teaching. The teaching bonus is calculated on each teaching hour (45 minutes). A professor gets 100 RMB for one teaching hour in a standard undergraduate course and more for PhD courses, it could be about 130 for one teaching hour. At some universities, you only get the “teaching bonus” once you exceed the required points for your position. You can obtain 300 points one year and get no bonus if you were required to reach these 300 points anyway. Only after you have reached the goal do the teaching bonus points start to accumulate. This is how you can reach a high salary. If you teach a lot, you get good income; if you do not teach much you only have a basic income, which in a city like Chengdu means a poor income.

90 As I said, not every teacher can have many courses, especially those with fewer students in that department. Some of the required courses, such as Marxism and English, are for all students, no matter what major they are in. Teachers in these courses repeat the same content to lots of different classes. It does not take much time to prepare. But things are different for those who teach specific courses for specific majors. For example, I teach ‘Fundamental Theories of Social Science’ for undergraduate ethnology majors. There is only one class each year. I introduce them to the three founders of modern social science and put together a reading seminar for each main theory. It is hard work and takes a long time to prepare but I cannot teach another class since no other curriculum includes this course at my university. So,

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young teachers actually have to try their best to teach popular courses instead of fundamental course, since they could get more points by more enrollment. What is more, teachers who successfully get many teaching opportunities, do not actually have enough time and energy to prepare their teaching. How can one blame them for that? They need to survive in the city. This system actually undermines the passion of teachers to improve their teaching.

91 I understand, teachers would prefer to optimize their time and prepare once for several courses. It also discourages teachers from proposing specific topics related to their research. It is not just a question of personal choice; it affects your ability to use the time you have to reach your points goal and secure your salary for the next year. Who decides the amount of point you need to reach? The university?

92 It really depends. Universities decide on the rule, but they are supposed to get permission from the central government.

93 You might think it is a very complicated system. You might wonder why we lay so much emphasis on points? One popular explanation is we have such a big population; with so many scholars, how can you establish a qualitative evaluation which is also objective. Especially when your salary and your position, are all related to your evaluation. I am never really satisfied with this explanation, especially when more countries including France are gradually tending to take an evaluation system which fundamentally follow the direction of our point system. This, for me, is unfortunately the fate of our times which is “characterized by rationalization and intellectualization and, above all, by the ‘disenchantment of the world’” (Weber 1918-1919). This unpleasant fate was illustrated well by Max Weber one hundred years ago. What is happening in China’s academia is not an exceptional but an exemplification of our times. We are always aiming at making things better, but unfortunately, not every good motive lead to good result. Wanting to reach equality and justice itself never presents the certainty of realizing equality and justice. We really need to form a comparative perspective on the evaluation systems from different countries so that we could figure out what is the ‘value’ of social science, and what is an ‘authentic’ scholar.

94 That is very true. It is a huge task but us scholars of the world should join this reflection and not let techno-bureaucrats with biased, few or no experience of the ground, carrying other goals in mind (like so called cost reduction), decide for us and for the civil society. The future of science progresses and of higher education is at stakes here. Chinese universities seem to have reached the full “independency” and managerial evaluation system that the French government and the European Union as a whole has been dreaming of since the Bologna declaration. For me, what you are depicting feels like a dystopic nightmarish episode of “Black Mirror” about how inefficient and toxic a managerial system can be in academia. I understand that since we are paid, we need to be accountable for our activities, especially as civil servants. But surely there must be ways to do it that are less detrimental and more efficient in improving the quality of our teaching and research. When you first talked to me about this point-based system, it felt as if it fully embodied the capitalist ideology. Each worker is in charge of capitalizing points on an individual basis, teamwork and cooperative spirit being entirely excluded and hence devaluated. But when I read Feng (2015), I realized that this system, which was implemented with enthusiasm as early as the 1990s, was in fact inspired by the “points for work” that were calculated by production brigades during the People’s Commune System under Mao’s rule! State socialism and capitalism meet common ground when it is about controlling the activities of masses of workers through a bureaucratized and auditing system!

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95 Yes, there are some connections between the working points used for calculating labour in a planned economy and the academic points system. Besides, the evaluation system in the natural sciences also influenced the evaluation system in the social sciences. The preference for calculable, measurable, objective, and quantitative indicators also encouraged the academic points policy. Scholars are being individualized as publication and teaching machines with different productivity levels calculated according to points. This metaphor, I think, presents an image where no creative work is possible.

Part 5. Recruitment and young scholars: an assessment

96 As scholars, we are evaluated each year after our recruitment. This recruitment follows the same guidelines as the evaluation of scholars. In fact, it follows the same pattern as when you are a student. When you do your MA degree, the kind of publishing you secure determines which PhD program you may enroll in. Once you get your PhD, your publishing record determines at which university you can apply for a position.

97 There are two elements that count in applications for a position in Chinese academia. One is the university you graduated from. In China some universities are ranked as prestige and outstanding ones, and they are listed in two programs (the “958” and the “211” programs). They are considered high-reputation universities, similar to Ivy League institutions. If you graduate from these universities, it is easier to get a position. Some universities refuse to consider applicants whose PhDs are from universities outside of these programs. Zhang Yuan and I were lucky because the university where we obtained our PhDs - Central Minzu University in Beijing – was included in this list. But now some universities are stricter and even look at your BA degree. If you did not get your first degree from a listed university, they refuse your application. Sometimes they will not tell you. But they will not even look at your application.

98 The second element a university takes into consideration during recruitment is the publication record. If you published in a highly ranked journal during your PhD the odds of your application are higher. Applicants all have a publishing record, because otherwise they would not have an MA or a PhD degree. I heard about a PhD student at Beijing University who published a paper in an A-ranked journal. He is really talented. Even before his graduation, he got a teaching opportunity at another university in Beijing. Now he received several proposals from prestigious universities. So, as I said earlier, even though we are not in very high positions in the education system, and we may not be able to implement reforms, there is still the possibility to do good research, write good papers and publish honestly. We can change the ‘academic ecology’ with our small efforts.

99 Indeed, and it is a good point to stay positive and hopeful. Who are the people involved in the hiring processes at universities in China?

100 There is a department that manages the hiring itself, but disciplinary departments decide. There will be a committee doing the interview, including listening to your trial lecture (20 minutes teaching to the interviewee and some students to show your teaching skills). Most of them are teachers who are in the major or a related major.

101 Secondat (2020) depicts the Chinese academic system as quite monetarily oriented, where everything can be bought, from diplomas to the teacher’s attention to your child, even positions at schools and universities. According to him, in 2019 a civil servant professorship would cost

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around 80 thousand euros for a monthly salary of 2,000 euros, without bonuses. Have you heard about such practices?

102 I feel sad because what Secondat depicts is happening in China. China is a socialist country but is still under the influence of modernity. Here, modernity follows what Anthony Giddens described in his work, especially in The Consequences of Modernity. Unfortunately, the ideology of capital is embedded in modernity. All countries are affected by this process; in every country, everything is calculated with money. In China, we have an old saying: ‘You can make the ghosts work for you if you propose a good price’ (有钱能使鬼推磨). What makes things different is that in recent decades this calculation has gone hand in hand with efforts to achieve equality according to objective and measurable standards. This results in bribe and corruption in many ways. When it combines with neoliberalism, it seems everything has its price and can be exchanged for money. A degree is supposed to build reputation and knowledge, but when it instead builds your future salary, getting a degree becomes a business, and buying a degree becomes a reasonable and cost-efficient choice. The same holds true of those who buy their professorship. Still, we can see that these ‘buy everything’ activities are not always successful and are never praised by society; otherwise my husband and I would have had no chance to get our professorships. Most of my colleagues got their position because of their outstanding research. Anyway, we will not disguise the dark side, but it is not reasonable to be critical by denying the bright side.

103 For Sangren (2007), in the whole academia, “[…] value is determined less by free competition linked to scientific values than by what sells in monetary terms, where ‘productivity’ is increasingly objectified and commodified by cost-benefit logic (often advanced by university administrations concerned to raise their rankings or answer to government agendas) and other academic variants of social Darwinism”. In France, too, controversies over recruitment through relationships or biased reasons have been ongoing for decades, including rumours of professors abusing their status over applicants (students and subalterns in general), especially female ones. However, thankfully, what I see around me is mainly professional integrity. This does not mean that improper conduct does not exist anymore but that the shame might be changing sides; it is seen as morally reprehensible, so it is becoming more difficult to hide. Back to recruiting in Chinese academia, how does the qualitative and quantitative evaluation process unfold?

104 We do have qualitative evaluation since each applicant is supposed to get recommendation from two professors. Usually your degree supervisor is one of the recommenders. But for the university, it is really hard to decide which applicant is outstanding just judging by recommendation letters. You need an ‘objective’ system to pick out the right one and to persuade you that those who are rejected failed to qualify. We all get used to the points system from the first grade! Even for the PhD application, most universities still organize an entrance exam. After the examination there is an interview. You get points depending on how you fare in the interview. The university sorts all applicants according to their final scores following the exam and interview. If there are two seats, the first two applicants get them. So, to some extent, we really do not know how to do only qualitative evaluation.

105 To the difference of yearly evaluation of scholar’s activities, which does not require a precise ranking, in context of mass applicants for recruitments, translating the evaluation in

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comparable numbers might indeed ease up the selection process. But numerical numbers have the tendency to create an illusion of objectivity and accuracy.

106 It is also hierarchical. Numbers sometimes are really more reliable and more equal. Sometimes, the leader of the committee might be a very bossy person who might influence other members or even push them to give a higher score to his or her preferred applicant. This has been happening a lot, and we are trying to find a more objective way. The points system appears objective, and it does stimulate research; however, it is like a bird cage.

107 And it has many negative effects indeed. This system does not encourage young researchers to think outside the box and follow their research intuition. It is a high risk of standardization, from training to recruiting and practicing.

108 Many scholars have qualms about the system, but it has so much power over your career and your salary. You have no choice but to first survive in such a system. Some scholars follow the rules well while managing to do their own research despite them. For example, you can apply for a project that is very practical, but also take advantage of the funding to do fieldwork for a personal project and later form your own theory. Such scholars are actually very serious; they do not just finish their project tasks but also spend much time on the reports. This means that scholars can survive in the system, and some are very outstanding, however, the system itself does not encourage creative research. It establishes a trend of finishing your assignment rationally and cost-efficiently. I have to calculate my academic work and consider, for example, that if I get enough points this year, I will delay the publication of my next paper.

109 This system can generate a great amount of papers, because everybody has the pressure to publish. We publish so many papers! But it is not creative. You write a paper, not because you have found an interesting and good analysis with data you collected, but because you have to publish something to get your points. You chose a topic, not because you believe it is a good one, but because it is popular with journals, so it increases your chances of getting published and of getting a high citation rate. When I was an associate professor, I needed points every year, so I wrote papers. Ten years after I got my PhD, I published papers that built my reputation in the academic world, but if I had not published them in a rush, they could have had more influence. In other words, I wasted some good topics and data. So, when I got my professor position, I decided to slow down on writing. Some colleagues got tired of writing and just gave it up when they got their professorship.

110 You are pointing out some very interesting side effects of this system of publication pression. From you own experience what would be your assessment on the efficacy of this system in nurturing good research?

111 My husband and I got our professorships 3 years ago. Since then, we decided to concentrate on our research and the papers we are interested in. We took the time to read and to do fieldwork. My husband published a really good paper last year. I am also working on a paper I started years ago but haven’t published yet, on water-controlling systems and worship of water deities in the locality of Dujiangyan, a world heritage site. Gradually this project is becoming more and more interesting and inspiring to me. I have good materials now to write a good paper on the topic. I feel confidence and joy because I see how the knowledge has accumulated. We both felt we learned more when we slowed down. So you can see this system failed to encourage us as young scholars.

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112 For younger generations, they face even more pressure. My husband and I were lucky enough to benefit from what in China we call ‘the iron bowl’ (铁饭碗, tiefanwan), a metaphor of a tenure position. That means we cannot easily be fired. We are permanent staff (编制, bianzhi), like civil servants. We obtained this position as soon as we were recruited as lecturers at our university. Several years ago, a reform was carried out at Beijing University and some universities. Then it arrived at our university last year. The reform applies more pressure on young scholars who are now recruited as new staff without iron bowls, “not listed”. Young scholars get a 3-year or 4-year contract with a university. The contract requires a certain amount of publications within the contract years; for example, in Sichuan University, a 3-year contract requires nine papers in C ranked journals. But they also have to secure one national project, one provincial project, and in the meantime they need to teach and do other things.

113 Scholars cannot easily have children during that time, considering the tremendous load of domestic work required.

114 It is not mentioned in the contract, but yes, you are afraid to have a baby during that time! Even with all your energy and very little sleep, reaching all these goals seem arduous. I heard that someone did manage in Sichuan University to do all that! She published the nine papers and secured a national project. Well, not a provincial one though. But that was enough, so she did get another contract.

115 After doing all that, did she not receive a permanent position?

116 No. She got another contract. A longer one but with less pressure to publish, more time for real research. With this contract she can later apply for associate professorship. If you do not reach the goal, then you might get fired. And even if you are able to stay, you wouldn’t get a promotion in the next contract. It is the same situation at my university: less publication pressure, but still lots of pressure.

117 Many scholars criticize it as a new capitalism, an academic capitalism that exploits young people. When you just got your PhD, you are full of energy, you are young. You accumulated data from your PhD research. And you still have time to do more fieldwork, less administrative and responsibility, usually no kid and family obligation. So, the university pushes you to publish more, using all your PhD data to publish.

118 But it is always the same data, no update, no new fieldwork?

119 No, they do not care about the content of the papers you publish. From the university bureaucracy’s point of view, you just need to publish, to accumulate points for advancement of the department, and for the university ranking. Once you get the longer contract, they know you cannot do that anymore.

120 You get old, you get back pains and health problems because of the unhealthy work rhythm. Eventually you use up all your energy!

121 When young scholars get their second contract, they slow down. The pressure is on the young scholar who just got their PhD and their first contract. They have a tremendous pressure to write, write, write. Publish, publish, publish. The more the better. Also teaching!

122 What you are saying reminds me of Alexandre Afonso’s (2013) analysis, which argues that the academic job market resembles a drug gang. It is quite inspiring and convincing when you look at the arguments. For him, “Academic systems rely on the existence of a supply of ‘outsiders’ ready to forgo wages and employment security in exchange for the prospect of

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uncertain security, prestige, freedom and reasonably high salaries that tenured positions entail”. Robinson, Ratle and Bristow (2017) followed the painful experiences of a group of early career academics and analysed how they manage to manoeuvrer within the field, developing a ‘critical’ habitus. In France I think the system for young scholars has now become really harsh too. An enormous part of the university teaching staff lacks a “real contract”. They are paid for the amount of hours taught in front of students, not counting preparation time. They are also pressured to work for free for many hours on administrative duties, exam supervisions and other meetings. Most of them are doing their PhD without funding or are already done but do not have a postdoc or a position yet (in France approximatively only 30% of PhD students in the social sciences have fellowships). It is really awful the way universities take advantage of such vulnerable people, because these young scholars are qualified to teach but are not granted a real contract nor even health insurance benefits. They need to have teaching experience to increase their chances on the job market, so they accept the situation although they know teaching on an hourly rate does not even pay the rent. Often the university only pays them at the end of the year. And if you compare the paycheck with the hours spent it almost looks like volunteer work – or slavery depending on your level of consciousness or cynicism! After completing my PhD and before securing my first postdoctoral contract in the UK, I taught ‘Introduction to Sociology and Anthropology’ at Nanterre University on an hourly basis. I calculated that my final income amounted to 3 euros an hour. You get four times this amount as an employee selling fruits and vegetables on a Paris street market, and at least there you get paid at the end of the month, not several months after the end of the semester! Unfortunately, this situation is widespread as in other countries such as the UK16.

Part 6. Assigned tasks and government requirements

123 My colleague/husband and I, we were lucky because when we graduated in 2008, there was less competition than there is today. They were no rules dictating that where you get your BA determines where you get a university position. We had more opportunities; we could have a position at a university in Beijing if we wanted to. We decided to go back to Chengdu because at provincial universities you have more time for your academic work and for your own life. There is less pressure to finish projects that are assigned to you.

124 For example, the China Academy of Social Sciences is the highest academic institution in China. They have some research topics which are required by the government. One of my older classmates, who is older than me, got a position at the Academy. He now has these kinds of tasks. Of course, he applied for this position because he did research on related topics. But the topic and the schedule of his study are not always up to him. It is a fixed topic that the government decided before hiring him. The government decided it wanted to know about Chinese people in Paris, their life, their rights. So, now all his research projects have to be on this topic.

125 Do you also have commissioned research from the government?

126 Yes, sometimes.

127 With the task you also get points?

128 Yes. Of course!

129 Is it mandatory?

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130 You can refuse. But it might influence your salary and your advancement. Because it is an easy way to get points! Government-commissioned research is easier to publish. You also get points when you send the report from this commissioned project to the government. They evaluate your report, through short comments that emphasize one or few good suggestions or acclaim the whole report. These comments give you points. A report can receive the signature of the Prime Minister, then it can bring in a great amount of points! Then you would become a politician! (Both laughing.) More seriously, I do not refuse this kind of report, but it should not count as “academic points”, since it is not the aim of your academic career.

131 You mean because the research question is not up to you and then not built up neutrally and scientifically appropriate? Or the report does not count as academical because it is not included in your own research topics, hence there is a problem of legitimacy of the results?

132 I mean, I do not object with intellectuals being involved in the governance of the country. That’s also our obligation, and it can deserves some awards and encouragements. Writing a report based on one’s academic achievements is of course an academic practice, but it is not the aim or ideal of one’s academic career. I do not think a report getting a remark from the high governance should be regarded as ‘academic achievement’. What’s more is, if this kind of reports is evaluated as more important than fundamental academic work, it will undermine the creativity of scholars. Just as an old Chinese term says, it is like “planting a tree upside down” (本末倒置, benmo daozhi), then how this academic tree gets to thrive?

133 When researchers work on a commissioned project, are they influenced by the fact that if members of the government like the report they might get more points, meaning more income and higher chance at advancement?

134 Of course. We social scientists are supposed to propose critical, innovative and radical thoughts, but sometimes we cannot go that far. If you want to communicate critical results, you need to find a balance. First you compliment with beautiful words, and then little bit of criticism, be critical enough but not too much. You need to criticize step by step to avoid getting yourself into trouble.

135 I saw what you describe in quite a lot of Chinese papers on the consequences of the Three Gorges Dam resettlement. Criticism was slowly included a few years after the end of the relocation process. Even though the authors show balance in the introduction and conclusion of their paper, they manage to transmit their data and present acute and critical arguments that are helpful to their colleagues in the field and will definitely help future similar research.

Part 7. National projects & a unreasonable academic system scholars have to play through

136 Is it easy to get a national project in China?

137 No.

138 What is the percentage of success? In France, the national project rate success is around 10-14%.

139 I think it is much lower in China. The academic population in China is huge. Every university encourages the scholars to apply for a national project. You get many applicants. Most of them know they cannot get it. But they apply anyway to make the figures of the University look good. Some universities will give you points for your

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application, regardless of whether or not you really have a chance to succeed. The rate of applications is really not a reliable indicator of the rate of success in China.

140 What is the management system of these National projects?

141 National projects in social sciences are managed by the National Social Science Foundation of China (国家社会科学基金 guojia shehui sheke jijing). This foundation is managed by a special office. There is a committee with reviewers from different universities and institutions. You fill up the application forms and upload it on their web site. When you apply, you need to pick a discipline. Then alumni experts, scholars who already finished one or several national projects, review the applications anonymously. Usually three persons evaluate one project. But you never receive any feedback. Sometimes you know who evaluated your project because your field is so small. Some applicants work very hard to find out who is on the list so they can try to influence the decision. In our university, one really had to work to establish a guanxi relationship with the reviewer by paying regular visits, sending them gifts, or publishing their papers if they are in an academic journal editorial board.

142 Does it work? Is it not possible that scholars object and disclose these practices?

143 It is helping in many occasions, but since it is so competitive, the quality of a proposal is the most important. Obviously, most reviewers will not take the bribes since they know it is illegal. But sometimes it is not that obvious. Applicants might behave like a friend, inviting you to give a lecture at their university. It is blurry; it cannot easily be categorized as an attempt at corruption. It can be part of the healthy relationship you establish with colleagues from your field. Sometimes it is not only academic relationships, it can be friendly, on a personal level, through affinities. In my case, whatever relationship I have with a colleague, if I get to evaluate his or her proposal, I would base my opinion on the proposal. But sometimes the relationship can exert influence. If two proposals are equally good, and I realize that my instinct drives me to naturally favor the researcher I know because I know from experience that he or she is a dedicated, professional and good scholar and that the supporting department is a good one with good working conditions, then I know the project will be successfully carried out. I find it difficult to see that as corruption myself.

144 I know what you mean, it is also a problem we face in France. Sangren (2007) has bluntly pointed out the deeply anchored dark side of our profession where scholars tend to form a “front-stage” kind of utopian fantasy of the academia as “a free marketplace of ideas”, while we are well aware for instance that “networking, exchanges of favours, bias, narcissism and much worse contaminate this free marketplace of ideas”. We indeed should bravely face such deeply rooted twisted behaviours, be reflexive and pro-active about them. However, production of healthy, benevolent, productive and ethical collegial relations can be cultivated too. They cannot always be seen as a bad thing. It is part of the connection you make with colleagues you came to respect for their achievements, their dedication, and their work ethic. I personally feel more comfortable to recusing myself if I know the person whose work I have to evaluate. But sometimes it is not as easy since research domains can be small.

145 For the National project, it depends on the discipline you apply in. For instance, sociology is a huge discipline in China. There are many scholars and many applicants all over the country. It is difficult to establish relationship circles. In contrast, ethnology is a relatively small world in China. All the seniors were trained in the 1960s in the minzu studies [Chinese minority ethnic groups studies]. They established a close circle. If you are not part of this circle, if you are young or doing anthropology, not

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doing classical minzu studies, if you are critical, it is very difficult to get a national project approved.

146 Even Wang Mingming17 students?

147 Yes. For national project applications, we usually apply in sociology rather than in ethnology. Because you have no chance in ethnology. Well, sometimes anthropology scholars get through anyway, but the odds are very low. When the theme of your project is about religion you can apply in the “religion section”.

148 My husband and I applied for a national award at the Minzu Affair Committee in the same year. He applied in Sociology, I applied in Ethnology. We felt it would be better if we were not in competition. He got the second prize, I got nothing. When I saw the names of the scholars who received the award in Ethnology, they were all from this small circle. I am not in the circle.

149 Do some scholars protest, file complaints or ask for better recognition for their discipline? In France, for instance, economy as a discipline has been attracting criticism. Institutional positions and committee memberships are being monopolized by mainstreamers (i.e., economists whose work uncritically conveys orthodox views akin to neoliberal ideology) while other economic trends can hardly secure positions where they might propose alternative views in publications and course curricula. In the aftermath of the 2008 financial crisis, a group of “Appalled Economists” was founded, allowing them to organize and have better visibility18. But “unorthodox” economy still lacks institutional recognition in France today. Whatever the discipline, French scholars sometimes find the evaluation or recruitment process to be unfair and unethical, and this generates controversy. Sometimes French scholar unions get involved. Sometimes hiring committees need to explain themselves. I even witnessed a recruitment in anthropology being cancelled after the selection process and ranking announcement was done. And in any case, it can affect the credibility and professional standing of the members of the committee.

150 Situation in Ethnology is also changing with younger generation’s efforts. For the national projects’ application, you have no feedback on your proposal. You cannot ask. There is no channel to ask why your application was not considered favorably. The only thing you can do is look at the accepted proposal or award to reflect upon what you can do next year. And you can consult senior scholars.

151 I see. French and European Project applications include mandatory feedback from evaluators, so you know the criticism that have been made on your project. Do scholars in China reflect upon the academic system and try to ask the government or institution to change when negative effects are pointed out?

152 Some scholars do, but most of us just rely on this system. We work through it and try to get a national project in these conditions. If you do not have a national project, it is very hard to get the professorship.

153 This is the new system of evaluation and recruitment in China. I created two concepts. For me we have two kinds of “outstanding” researchers. The “outstanding in forms” (表格优秀, biaoge youxiu) and “outstanding inside” (内在优秀, neizai youxiu). Scholars outstanding inside are those who have passions in their academic work, or following Weber’s word, they take academic research as their vocation. While the ‘outstanding in forms’ are those who are good at calculation for cumulating many points. They are satisfied with writing a mediocre paper but try hard to publish it in an A rank journal. Their goal is to get high points, and hence a higher salary. When you look at their

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forms you think they are outstanding scholars, but when you invite them to give lectures at your university, you will be disappointed. Some scholars, of course, are both: outstanding in forms and outstanding inside. One of my colleagues got a really beautiful form. National projects: 2. National rewards: 2. Publishing in C, B and A Journals. But he is really boring, you talk to him you get nothing. He does not involve himself in research. He only works on the forms. He makes sure that there are no blanks when he fills them in. When he realized he needed a national project, he studied the guidebook for the national project carefully. He spotted the topics he knew that few people would apply to, and he applied on that topic because it is easy to get.

154 So there are some suggestions in the national projects. Who makes them?

155 Each year there are topics suggested for each discipline, decided by a committee. These suggestions come from all over China. Then, the office of the funding collects these topics, then figure out a guide of topics with a committee together. For instance, the government might say: This year the theme is “a new age” (xin shidai). So, you can find this word in many of the suggested topics. For instance, when I finished my application project I realized my title could be improved, I just added “in the new age” at the end. (both laughing.) It is kind of a game now. You see I try to be outstanding inside and in forms!

156 In order to distance yourself from the academic system’s flaws and manage to do what you feel is right in your conscience, as a researcher, you may first need to get through the system, understand how it operates and even succeed by its standards, so as to better go around it, and maybe have a possible way to modify it, from the inside.

157 Consciousness is so crucial for scholars. Zhang Yuan and I prefer to apply to national projects with research topics we find are stimulating even though the topic may be very competitive. In China there are lots of outstanding “inside” scholars who do not get enough points. For instance, there are those who write great papers but very slowly. Others cannot get many points because they are not good enough at networking and cannot get published in many A-ranked journals. Even if your paper might be a good fit for one journal in particular, if you do not have the guanxi, sometimes you cannot get it published and you need to find another A journal that is more open, more objective, but less appropriate to the topic of your paper. Outstanding “inside” teachers sometimes have higher requirements for students. Students might finish the tasks but complain that they are too difficult. Some really good professors who are serious at teaching have fewer students in their class because they are so hard and strict. It is not cost-efficient because if you spend lots of time on the courses and individual tutoring you do not get high scores. For my husband, since he is a very humorous person, his teaching is hard but still attractive, so students give him high points. I am not that strict, and students give me high points too. We are happy to get high points, but we are happier to see students really benefiting from our teaching.

158 In a word, in such a points system, you seem to be evaluated by an objective, rational, equal standard: everyone is in the same predicament. But as I said earlier, it will not encourage teachers on improving teaching. I would say it is an institution with very low efficiency at all levels. We were even lucky because now, the pressure is excruciating for young scholars. From the outside the system looks like very efficient. And since most of us survived in this system, the survival rate makes the state think it is working, that it is a good system for academia, a reasonable one.

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159 It gives the wrong impression that it is working but in fact it just shows the great resilience of (a selected few) scholars willing and able to adapt to a very hostile environment.

160 You can always survive but it does not mean the system is reasonable. Zhang Yuan and I only survive because we never take it seriously. We take it seriously enough to get career advancement, as we did to get the professorship. But we do not take it seriously as an efficient system for academic life.

161 I got two national projects in 8 years. It looks outstanding in the forms, so I got a high reputation. But this reputation is only within the system. The project I am excited about, the one on the Dujiangyan irrigation/water-controlling system, is difficult to fund through a national project. The problem is it is a huge waste of time, because you still need to finish the report for the national project. It takes up precious time.

162 Why cannot stimulating topics be funded through national projects? Are the topics suggested for national projects inadequate from an academic point of view?

163 This funding pattern encourages academic work with ‘practical value’. But things are changing these days. There are more projects on theory and fundamental research. The two national projects for which I received funding were related to disaster studies. Both of them included a little bit of criticism, e.g., on issues of desertification in the Alpine wetlands and grasslands of the Tibetan Plateau. I included the criticism in my report, explaining that desertification, to some extent, was actually promoted by governmental policies and that different policies could alleviate the problem in the future. It is safe for me since I presented the problem in an academic way. It is not our job to only present praise, but we clearly understand that to preserve our academic life, we should base our criticism on solid academic analysis. As a guest professor at EHESS this year I gave four talks, two of which were derived from a national project. So, you see we can still achieve something academically with a national project. In many disciplines you need critical thinking. But some scholars do not dare to voice any criticism in their project reports. They just list data. This system in China encourages people to just accumulate data without analysing them, just to survive in the system. It does not encourage scholars to think critically. People like us have self-awareness and try hard to keep in line with our academic conscience (学术良心, xueshu liangxin).

164 We try to keep a balance between two kinds of excellence. Never be “normal” in forms because you need that form for your salary and your career advancement. And at the same time, try your best to be outstanding “inside”, do real academic work. Be critical in an academic way.

By way of a conclusion

165 For Feng (2015), the principal victim of the points system is professional conscience. According to him, if this system is not abolished, the pressure to lower standards (e.g. for teaching) and to condone plagiarism and fraudulent behaviour will cause the demise of scholarly ethics. In a system that not only encourages but selects ethically questionable behaviour, the incurred risk for academia is to see them increase. It might get more and more difficult to maintain our principles. I am also worried about another type of behaviour that seems to increase through the pressure, namely the constant evaluation of oneself and others and the discourse of excellence promoted by the neoliberal academia: the continuous suspicion among peers and the ambient discourse on mediocrity – which seem to blur out mediocrity inside and mediocrity on forms. As Feng (2015)

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puts it, the excellence discourse is exacerbated along with the competition over the small cake to be shared. This creates a pernicious atmosphere and is unproductive, since in science “one researcher and one academic institution’s progress is everyone’s progress, […] research is a collective endeavour” (Gaudin, 2020). In this auditing system, researchers are supposed to be excellent in all they do, and they must do lots of activities (to prove that they are deserving and useful) while at the same time not enjoying enough time and sometimes even basic materials support to develop their activities19. If scholars do not have time to read, analyse their data and work on their manuscripts at length, it is difficult to reach “excellence”. Then, how can we distinguish honest scholars who follow their conscience but ‘produce less’, great scholars who have been squeezed so tight that they end up burning out and ‘producing less’, scholars who lack basic materials and the moral conditions to flourish (not all of us are warriors), from the “international stars” that produce the image of excellence (based on quantitative criteria) only by using an army of subalterns (students and assistants on contingent jobs). Feng (2015) calls them “bosses” leading “family enterprise”. Neoliberal academia seems to bring back the mandarin regime; reports of moral and physical abuse of subalterns have been strongly acknowledged in the mobilization against the Multi-Annual Research Programming Act. Peacock (2016) recalls that autonomy and dependency are co-produced. The normalization of casual employment within the academy leads to great dependency, with all the excess it can bring.

166 Our colleagues and us also criticize the ‘bosses’ leading ‘family enterprise’, and we all refuse our students addressed us ‘boss’. Addressing your supervisor as ‘boss’ was very popular in years. There’s a trend of a new policy: supervisors pay their PhD students monthly (about 100 Euros) to support students’ study. If you have no projects, then you are not qualified to supervisor PhD students. Such system lowers the risk of scholars taking advantage of their students. It also makes sense that scholars supervise topics close to their area of expertise, and that both their progress help each-other, while it is terrible to force students helping your own project. If a student is interested in a topic with no relation with their project, what should the supervisor do? In China it is illegal to support a research having nothing to do with the project.

167 You make good points. In France, they are no such rules. To my view, the relationship between Ph.D even Master students and supervisors would need safeguards. There are signed charter and the department can alleviate tension but when problems and abuse occur, the symbolic and effective power embodied by some bully supervisors might prevent the student to reach for help in fear of retaliation. I am not saying it is systemic or even specific to the academia, it is a power issue in relation with subalterns. But it can happen, and as colleagues and decent human beings I think we should pay attention to abusive practices, especially when we secured position and can better face retaliation of powerful beings. It is not always easy because sometimes you do not have all details of what’s going on, you feel it is not your business and do not know how to point out the problem to your colleague. Signs of abuse should in any case be taken seriously and cleared out.

168 You might find me quite peaceful even presenting critics. We could endlessly discuss examples illustrating problems in our respective academic systems. It is easy to be cynical but the most important thing is to figure out the cause for the problems and find solution. Some are rooted in the neoliberal agenda, while others are deeply embedded in the earliest form of the university and academia around the world. What we should do is rise above problems regardless of their origins. Even though complaining about them feels good and allows us to make these issues visible to our peers and institutions, we should not wallow in complaints. As an old saying goes: “do

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not stop eating because of an unexpected choking” (不要因噎废食). At our modest level, we have the responsibility to maintain our professional consciousness. Day by day, we can influence the system through our choices, our teaching and research activities. We can be rigorous in our work even though there are temptations and incentives not to.

169 You are entirely right! When I presented the Multi-Annual Research Programming Act to several General Assemblies earlier this year, I always concluded with such an attitude. Many in the academia feel helpless; others try to fight without being heard. But what can be efficient is dispersed micro-resistance supporting one another through practice and with only limited harmful repercussions. Small acts. “Epsilon is better than zero”, often claims says Aurelien Barrau (2019), an astrophysicist struggling much in the French media for public awareness on the ongoing ecological disaster. We can reevaluate mutual support, include Camille Noûs as co- author20, and boycott certain editors. Be more tolerant of the plurality of views inside our discipline. Reevaluate the perspective and structural consequences of the mentality of capital accumulation (securing a bonus, becoming influential, surpass this scholar, do many things, faster, no matter the cost, get “one more line” on the resume or evaluation form). Slowly dislodge ourselves from practices and behaviours that we understand now as being unhealthy, unethical, or harmful. This would be of course easier for scholars at the top of the hierarchy and in general those with permanent positions than it is for precarious employees… What are you hoping for in the future of Chinese academia, and Chinese anthropology?

170 We live in the same world and we face the same problem in different ways. What we are discussing today is not a new topic. 100 years ago, Weber compared the academic world between German and American. He presented some trends which could lead to negative result. Unfortunately, we were not good at learning from his suggestion but were good at being trapped by those trends. Now, lots of scholars from various disciplines believe establishing an objective and quantitative evaluation system is the most efficient way to lead social science to its equality and autonomy. If there are some negative side effects, it is just because this system is not objective enough. As a result, some reflection on the evaluation system is actually reinforcing the dominance of the objective and quantitative attitude.

171 For improvement in Chinese anthropology, we should not be satisfied with just introducing foreign theories to China and presenting data to the ‘western’ academic world. We anthropologists need to base our work on the social facts in China, to borrow Durkheim’s concept. There was a paper by Fei Xiaotong in 2000 on “What we can do in the social sciences in China”. He said that first you need to learn the discipline on its own terms. For instance, read Durkheim, because Durkheim is the basis of the social sciences. But at the same time, you need to learn and take into account the vernacular/ emic conceptions in China. You need to build up the relationship between the discipline and real life. You need to communicate with foreign experts and establish a comparative perspective. This is how you understand what Durkheim said and what tbe social sciences are. And then look at what we have in our own tradition that helps understand the world through a sociological and anthropological lens. You can build social sciences in China that would not be a copy of the western world. We know why Durkheim talked about topics from the period he lived in. We can follow the way he came up with certain questions, how he developed analyses focusing on his contemporary world. We should do the same in China, learn how to define issues, to discover and then resolve problems. It is not a matter of copying concepts. In order to

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do that you need to do fieldwork, real fieldwork in China, in a real social-scientific way. It is not a matter of gathering data as fast as you can to reach the points target without thinking of the meaning of the research, in the process creating lots of rubbish, just copy-pasting what has already been done, without any new idea or analysis. To understand what China is as a country, you need to look at the history, how the unification of such huge territory was achieved. It might be related to topography or to other elements. Then, you can go further and present your reflections on the anthropological theories. That is what Fei Xiaotong said in his paper, telling scholars to base their work on a social science discipline and theories, and to reflect on theories creatively. I think such recommendation is still relevant in today’s China.

172 A great paper by Harrell (2015) shows how the vocabulary used by Fei made a theoretical contribution to our discipline. I recall that the goal of a ‘native anthropology’ was part of the very first project of an anthropology of China as Cai Yuanpei envisioned it during the Republican period (Cai 1967, Liu 2003). This endeavour seems to have been a constant topic of interest among Chinese anthropologists and part of the renewal of the discipline in the 1980s, too (Li 1998, Gao; Qiong 1999). It distinguishes it from French anthropology, which saw its primary emphasis on the study of external others as a heuristic condition for understanding human societies and their own. We all know too well the criticism of this Western anthropological gaze over the world. The development of native anthropologies throughout the world has, however, been highly constrained because of lack of research funds, often still granted by the “West” – though not everywhere; native Japanese anthropology has flourished. China’s economic growth will surely enable Chinese anthropologists to follow this path if sufficient funding is granted, and if the academic bureaucratic management does not suffocate them first. Yet beside indigenous anthropology by Chinese researchers, the current of oversea ethnographic research by Chinese scholars (海外民族之研究, Haiwai minzuzhi yanjiu) that developed recently has been aiming to stimulate Chinese anthropological perspectives through fieldwork abroad (Wang 2014), on non-Chinese societies such as France (Zhang 2012). Gao Bingzhong seems quite involved in it. Obviously, such attempts at “describing the world from a Chinese point of view” fits well into the PRC’s promotion of soft power through scientific prestige and influence, much like it did for Western powers. I feel deeply that cross-indigenous and exogenous anthropologies should be encouraged, in all directions. A nationalistic posture forbidding the gaze of the external other upon oneself would be a deadlock. Anthropologists around the world face difficulties, even dangers, as the latest case of French Anthropologist Farida Adelkhah’s imprisonment in Iran attests.21 The “European gaze” might be itself slowly reduced if we heed Gefou-Madianou’s (2000) warning that the audit ideology in European anthropological funding decisions will eventually end up confining practitioners to indigenous anthropology.

173 When I said earlier ‘We live in the same world and face the same problem in different ways’, what I wanted to emphasize is that we should find solutions based on an understanding of our history in the discipline. Just as you said, we have been pursuing different interests in anthropology or ethnology for a long time. For both of us, I think that understanding and interpreting older generations’ research is crucial in order to look into the future. In China, there are only a few scholars working on the history of ethnology and anthropology in a reflective way. My PhD supervisor Wang Jianmin (1997) is one of them. What he taught us during our first class is: “You do not know how little you know about our older generation and their contributions; you just label them as out-of-fashion. So be modest, read their books”. In recent decades, many Chinese scholars have made efforts to re-read works of the first part of 20th century and have organized projects of reexamining some of the famous field sites of Fei Xiaotong, Lin Yaohua and

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their colleagues. By doing these, we will gradually shape our own way of doing research and feed our results back into our theories.

174 I believe it is important for Chinese scholars to do ethnographic research abroad. The perspective of others is always important and should be taken into consideration. Ethnographies on overseas areas are of course very stimulating. However, in the Chinese context, understanding the diversity in our own country is also crucial for anthropologists.

175 China is indeed a huge country, with not only minorities but also a plethora of specific localized cultures, endless materials for fieldwork!

176 Regarding the overall academic system in China, if this kind of system could change a little bit, the best would be to end the points system and give scholars more space. Find alternative ways to evaluate people. The best would be to evaluate every five years, and to not evaluate papers solely according to the rank of the journal. Other activities should also count in the evaluation, like this visiting professorship, which does not count in the current system. And also slow down, stop pushing so hard.

177 From my point of view, in France, you have good opportunities and a tradition that encourages you to demonstrate you own opinion.

178 Yes, you are right, this is still the case with the Multi-Annual Research Programming Act mobilizing many university teachers, researchers, and students. Yet, another possible pernicious – maybe even expected – effect of the neoliberal and capitalist academia could be to sedate the intellectual tradition of engaging in the public sphere. It might wear out teachers and researchers with work and evaluation goals to reach, providing them with a strategic plan to accumulate financial capital while bitterly and suspiciously fighting each other over it, this leading astray collective attempts of politicization and mobilization among university actors. With other measures discussed in Secondat (2020) and Graeber (2014), it could be also a way to curb the potential of students towards societal and political changes. Thankfully, there are great initiatives developed by scholars. Like the campaign “Reclaiming our University” launched at the University of Aberdeen (Ingold 2018). From a collective discussion emerged four pillars (freedom, trust, education, and community).

179 In my view it is crucial for scholars to keep their independence to do real academic work, to be patient. Some people think that all this hard academic and fundamental work is useless, that there is “no result”. Some people think my work on the Dujiangyan world heritage irrigation system is useless because I do not provide any suggestions for tourism or for the conservation of world heritage. However, it contributes to the rethinking of water system, the locality, the frontier, the relationship among ethnic groups, the environment etc. This fundamental research allows me to understand so many things and processes. We need to be patient with fundamental research.

180 According to Feng (2015), the point-based system is an obstacle to fundamental research and makes the production of high-level results difficult. In France, countless researchers have pointed out the limits of the money-based system and standardized quantitative evaluation for long-term fundamental work. In particular, they have argued that project-based funding is incompatible with risk-taking and exploratory projects. This became very clear in the context of the Covid-19 pandemic and the fundamental research on coronaviruses22. Antoine Gaudin recalls that the history of our societies shows that fundamental research was what lead to significant

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discoveries and, in the end, to the most important contributions to the economic and cultural wealth of nations23.

181 I must say that I am not very optimistic. In China parts of the system are getting worse. Bureaucratism in academic world is also responsible for the evaluation system. The reports we are obliged to give the government must include “helpful suggestions” that have become more and more important in the evaluation system. The amount of points we can receive with such reports is getting higher and higher. In our university some people prefer to focus on these reports. Such reports do not conform to academic logic. They are brief and present very specific proposals or suggestions. A good report relies on long-term research and theoretical reflection. Some people in government genuinely think it is a good way for scholars to participate in today’s world. We scholars all have the responsibility to make the world better. When Cai Yuanpei introduced ethnology to China, he believed this discipline could help us understand our life and present possible ways for our future. He organized fieldwork along the border so that we could establish a modern unified country. It is useless to pretend that anthropology or ethnology are not involved in the economic-political system. What we should keep in mind is that good intentions do not necessarily lead to good results. We have to keep reflecting on our research and the system.

182 This issue has also been widely discussed in France lately since the Multi-Annual Research Programming Act plans to reinforce “targeted” research, the topics of which would be decided at the highest level of government. These measures stem from the discourse that social sciences not only should serve society, the country’s standing, and need to be useful – mostly for industry and the economy – but should have immediate short-term applications. This official posture might seem hypocritical when considering the fact that we know how some social sciences research results have been played down, ignored or even criticised by some people in power that clearly do not like these results or do not want to invest in political actions that might alleviate the problems through solutions identified in these studies. Both engaged in the Anthropology of disaster we know well the complains of researchers with extensive work and pertinent results not being heard and taken into account by the politics. The covid-19 pandemic is no exception24. The same can be observed with countless works on urban territories, ghetto formation, local radicalism, education inequality, etc. In some case, social sciences studies unveiling institutional discrimination and society unfairness are even openly attacked by government officials claiming these studies are the ones fabricating these issues and nurturing social resistance25. The risk with targeted research is that it can be built up through ideological, political, nationalist and economic interest, and be unfavourable to the common good. This state discourse of a “need” and of objectives using social sciences is not unprecedented. Chinese Ethnology was also designed, from the very beginning, as an applied science. In the fall of the Qing Empire and the beginnings of the Republic, the social sciences were invested with a mission to reform the country. Then during the Maoïst era it was seen by the powers that be as a way to assimilate the others, much as it was during the emergence of the discipline in France (minorities for China, colonized people for France). More recently, the Chinese Academic 863 Program that was launched in 1986 clearly identified prioritized research areas (Wang 2003). Surely, in France as in China, some scholars will find roundabout ways to manage to do what we call ‘real academic work’ despite these constraints. This does not mean it is a healthy system that will create a better world. In an enlightening argumentation, Harari (2015) demonstrates how the modern sciences in general were used as a tool by empires that funded studies in linguistics, botanic, geography, history, etc. to govern and find strong ideological justifications for their endeavours. Such money and support from political and economic powers have always been crucial for

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researchers to pursue their own research goals. We could continue to accept this ethically questionable situation of entangled needs. But, as Graeber (2014) puts it, the social sciences in general and anthropology in particular can give society so much more than support for colonization and oppression. What would be an alternative system, then? We could consider the potential benefits of better separating science and research from economic/political powers, especially when public funding is involved. Independence from state and market, as well as dominant elites could prevent some abuse when academic activities are being used as yet another powerful and violent tool for political and economic influence and dominance, or the financial interest of the few. As we saw, the research and higher education system is not neutral in its consequences, it is functioning through political choices. We should not let ourselves fall again into the TINA26 discourse, as we discussed here, there are indeed efficient and bankable alternatives. Access to higher education and academia should also be reformed so as to mitigate the discrimination process that some groups are facing. It seems that after several decades of progress in this regard, French higher education has become increasingly discriminating over the past few years, with fewer and fewer people from the working classes gaining access to it. We face the risk of coming back to an academic world of dominant elite sharing similar ethos, interests and world view. When there is too much homogeneity among scholars – being gender, ethnic, social and geographic origins – scientific progress and academic creativity are seriously held back.

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NOTES

1. The bureaucratization, regimes of accountability and audit marking the neoliberal era have had a profound effect on academia around the world (Readings 1996, Strathern 2000, Shore; Wright 2004, Brenneis; Shore; Wright 2005, Gill 2009, Shore 2009, 2010, Graeber 2014, Granger 2015, Butler; Delaney; Sliwa 2017) and see also https://allthelittleworlds.wordpress.com/ 2015/01/12/the-effects-of-neoliberalism-on-the-academy/).

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2. In this text we will return to the Chinese notion of guanxi （关系）, referring to interpersonal relationships (both personal and professional) and involving the idea of reciprocity. Dunning and Kim (2007) correctly note that guanxi, a major dynamic in Chinese society, refers to the concept of drawing on established connections in order to secure favours in personal relationships. 3. We wish to stress that our area of expertise is not academia history, law and system. This dialogue is based on personal experiences and feelings as well as opinion relying on selected references from experts mentioned along the discussion. This paper is not based on research investigation and does not purport to be comprehensive and unbiased. The aim is to humbly share a reflection we had, from our perspective of “between junior and senior” secured scholars, and to modestly help circulate our concerns about the current state of the academia worldwide. 4. On the differences of the French and Chinese notion of “University Autonomy” see Zhong and Hayhoe (1997). 5. While we do not have the knowledge to develop further the issue, a study would be stimulating. Even though the Chinese Academic system reform in the 1990s might have been highly influenced by what was happening in America at the time (Readings 1996), in the context of the French public services, a comparison with the Chinese academic system instead of the American one might be useful. 6. The authors would like to warmly thank Mark Aymes and Joakim Parslow for the opportunity to publish this piece in the European Journal of Turkish Studies, as well as for their support and editing insight. 7. See Zimmer; Lemercier; Cénac-Guesdon 2020. 8. https://junctrebellion.wordpress.com/2012/08/12/how-the-american-university-was-killed- in-five-easy-steps/ 9. Gift exchange and rendered services are the basis of guanxi relationship. 10. The official motto of the French National Centre for Scientific Research (CNRS). 11. For instance, in 2016 Samuel Alizon, a researcher at the CNRS, refused the individual bonus he received on the ground that bonus incentives exacerbate the precariousness and privatization of research in France. Since 2010 the CNRS awards successful applicants to the European Research Council (ERC) with a fifty-thousand-euro bonus over five years. See https:// www.lemonde.fr/sciences/article/2016/06/20/recherche-certaines-primes-sont-elles-des- credits-detournes_4954432_1650684.html 12. See Insel 2009, Longo 2009, Berry 2009, Audier 2009, not to mention the scandal with the Lancet Journal about the paper on the covid-19 possible drug, which reveal again the flaws of such scientific edition system. 13. https://www.lemonde.fr/sciences/article/2020/06/15/covid-19-le-lancetgate-revele-des- failles-de-l-edition-scientifique_6042946_1650684.html 14. http://blog.educpros.fr/julien-gossa/2020/01/18/lppr-une-loi-de-programmation-de- linconduite-scientifique/ 15. China became the second-largest producer of scientific publication in the world (17%) - behind the US - and it is still growing. In comparison, France is in the seventh place (Mynard 2017). 16. https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2016/nov/16/part-time-lecturers-on-precarious- work-i-dont-make-enough-for-rent 17. Wang Mingming 王铭铭 (1962- ) is a Chinese anthropologist. After a Ph.D and several postdoc fellowships in the U.K., he returned to China in 1994 to work at the Institute of Sociology and Anthropology of Peking University where he became professor. He is also special professor of anthropology at the Central Minzu University. He holds direction positions in Chinese academic and was part of visiting scholar programs at Sandford and the Chicago University anthropology department. 18. http://www.atterres.org/page/manifesto-english

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19. It is common in France to see social and human sciences researchers with no office, having to work from home on self-funded IT tools, participating in international conferences and even partially funding fieldwork on their own salaries, which are proven to be comparatively lower to their peers from other OECD countries. 20. https://www.cogitamus.fr/indexen.html 21. https://www.lemonde.fr/idees/article/2020/07/09/les-sciences-sociales-sont-en-danger-a-l- echelle-internationale_6045667_3232.html, https://sciences-critiques.fr/pour-un-droit-a-la- recherche/. 22. Bruno Canard, research director and specialist in coronaviruses, gave his testimony: https:// universiteouverte.org/2020/03/04/coronavirus-la-science-ne-marche-pas-dans-lurgence/ 23. https://www.critikat.com/panorama/entretien/luniversite-a-bout-de-souffle/ 24. Vogel, specialist in health issues at work, has recently recall how the context have revealed social inequalities and democratic deficit in Europe. At all level, he says, there is a reluctance of mobilizing grass-root/bottom knowledge, usually accompanied by a reduction of social sciences contribution (https://esprit.presse.fr/article/didier-fassin-et-nicolas-henckes-et-raphael-kempf- et-justine-lacroix-et-nicolas-leger-et-jean-claude-monod-et-florence-padovani-et-jean-yves- pranchere-et-livia-velpry-et-pierre-a-vidal-naquet-et-laurent-vogel/la-democratie) 25. Parts of the world of social sciences was mortified when French president Macron recently accused scholars of being “guilty” of causing a “secessionist danger” because of their work revealing racism and race discrimination in France. Scholars were accused by the president of manipulating French youth who were demonstrating against racist police violence. Anthropologist Eric Fassin criticized such anti-intellectual posturing: https:// www.lesinrocks.com/2020/06/12/idees/idees/eric-fassin-le-president-de-la-republique-attise- lanti-intellectualisme/ 26. The “There Is No Alternative” argument were given in many occasions by neoliberal tenants to support measure such as austerity.

AUTHORS

TANG YUN

South-West Minzu University (Chengdu, China) [email protected]

KATIANA LE MENTEC

Centre for Studies on China, Korea and Japan (CNRS/EHESS/UdP) [email protected]

CAMILLE NOÛS

Collective entity, Laboratoire Cogitamus https://www.cogitamus.fr/ [email protected]

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Quelque part en Asie : l’expérience d’un “chercheur en visite”

Camille Noûs

1 Ce numéro « en lutte » comprend et combine, les lecteurs et lectrices l’auront compris, plusieurs témoignages de première main. Voici le récit d’une expérience dans un centre de recherche d’un pays extra-européen, en l’occurrence asiatique, où certaines des conditions proposées en France par le projet de loi de programmation pluriannuelle de la recherche (LPPR) sont déjà en application. Il sera notamment question de la managérialisation de la recherche, de la recherche sur projets et à court terme, ainsi que des sujets d’intérêt national. Là où les considérations sur la LPPR en France peuvent paraître, dans une certaine mesure au moins, spéculatives, cette note a pour but d’informer sur des conditions de travail bien réelles, sur la manière dont elles affectent la qualité de la recherche, mais aussi la qualité de vie des chercheurs, particulièrement ceux dont le travail comporte une dimension historique.

2 Le centre de recherche décrit ci-après est une institution publique dynamique qui se trouve en Asie. J’ai préféré ne pas le localiser davantage, ni a fortiori le citer nommément, pour deux raisons différentes : 1°. Ne pas sembler vouloir le stigmatiser en particulier : il s’agit au contraire d’un cas d'espèce. Comme pour d’autres établissements du même type, les statuts de celui-ci sont par ailleurs clairs : ils ne promettent pas plus qu’ils n’offrent à leurs employés ; 2°. L’anonymat est inévitable ici du fait d’une clause de confidentialité signée par les contractuels.

3 Il n’est pas question ici d’établir de comparaison entre la France et ce pays d’Asie compte tenu d’un contexte social, d’une histoire nationale et de nombreux paramètres de la recherche tout à fait différents entre l’un et l’autre pays. Dans le pays dont je parle, le statut de titulaire par exemple n’existe pas, hormis dans certaines universités. Le statut de “chercheur en début de carrière” non plus, d’ailleurs. Les chercheurs étrangers sont tous des “chercheurs en visite” (ou chercheurs invités), un statut générique qui rappelle à l’employé, parfois durant plusieurs années, le caractère temporaire de son poste. Seule une poignée d’entre eux acquièrent un statut de chercheur ou chercheur senior au bout de quelques années de bons et loyaux services.

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Tous les postes de recherche du centre décrit ici sont des contrats à court terme ; ils se distinguent selon que la possibilité de leur renouvellement est plus ou moins acquise.

4 Le centre accueille des spécialistes de disciplines variées. On y croise des experts de la région spécialisés en sociologie, en économie, en histoire moderne et contemporaine, en anthropologie, ou encore en sciences politiques. Séparés par aires géographiques ou par disciplines, sortes de petits laboratoires dans un laboratoire, les chercheurs sont regroupés dans des “clusters” d’études par pays asiatique. De plus rares clusters sont dédiés à des programmes de recherche thématiques ou disciplinaires, comme les études économiques et sociales, mais aussi culturelles, ainsi que l’histoire de la région. Les employés comprennent des chercheurs de tous âges et à tous les stades de leur carrière. Tous ont été sélectionnés sur projet, sans que les autres conditions de leur recrutement – dont il va être question ici – ne soient mentionnées dans leurs contrats. Les nouvelles recrues, surtout les Européens, sont souvent surpris de découvrir à leur arrivée un système managérial relativement rigide, fondé sur un pilotage vertical des thèmes de recherche. S’agissant de la période contemporaine et de sujets sensibles liés aux questions de géopolitique, un tel pilotage peut paraître plus compréhensible, bien que peu justifié en principe ; il est plus difficile à vivre pour les historiens qui travaillent sur les périodes anciennes.

5 Les chercheurs invités, originaires de nombreux pays, surtout des divers pays d’Asie, voient leurs contrats renouvelés selon le degré de pertinence de leur recherche pour l’institution, c’est-à-dire pour l’intérêt de leur recherche dans la compréhension des problématiques sociétales et politiques les plus urgentes pour le pays d’accueil. Cette tendance s’est accrue au cours des dix dernières années, et s’explique notamment par la récente montée du populisme dans la région et de dynamiques politiques régionales vécues comme menaçantes pour le pays. Quelques années avant mon arrivée au centre, un éminent historien de la région avait vu son contrat interrompu pour ses opinions à contresens de l’historiographie nationale.

6 Le problème du pilotage stratégique orienté par des sujets d’intérêt national est parfois plus insidieux qu’on ne le pense. Les thèmes de recherche ne sont pas toujours imposés verticalement, du haut vers le bas, mais directement appliqués par les jeunes chercheurs qui savent que, pour être engagés, leur sujet doit s’articuler autour de thèmes déjà privilégiés par le centre de recherche. Les plus jeunes historiens entraient presque tous grâce à des sujets plus ou moins liés aux problématiques sociales et politiques du moment. Or, pour les historiens, cette approche de l’histoire (ancienne notamment) par le biais des questions de géopolitique contemporaine, en dehors du fait qu’elle n’est souvent pas pertinente, peut non seulement conduire à une perte des savoirs, mais aussi compromettre la carrière des chercheurs.

7 L’histoire non contemporaine demande souvent plus de temps, notamment pour la collecte et l’analyse des sources épigraphiques. Elle ne peut pas non plus être abordée de façon aussi directe que la période contemporaine, surtout si le contexte historique n’a pas été suffisamment étudié. Le choix de sujets d’intérêt national fait ainsi prendre aux historiens le risque d’aller à l’encontre des préceptes et des méthodes fondamentales des études historiques, c’est-à-dire de devoir étudier tout le contexte général (politique et social) d’une période avant d’aborder des sujets plus précis. Un chercheur avait ainsi proposé d’étudier l’histoire d’une minorité ethnique à la période prémoderne, alors même que l’histoire de ce groupe ethnique n’avait pas encore été bien étudiée pour les siècles précédents. C’est une période qui souffre d’une manière

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générale de l’absence d’une historiographie critique, avec diverses sources dont l’authenticité même était mise en doute. Les répercussions de tels choix de sujets “stratégiques” (mais non imposés) par des jeunes chercheurs, choix qui certes leur garantissent un poste à court terme, les oblige parfois à des mois supplémentaires de travail, ne serait-ce que pour réétudier le contexte historique de cette période. Le temps limité accordé aux projets à court terme ne permet pas de porter au crédit des productions du chercheur ce travail préliminaire et supplémentaire pourtant nécessaire. L’exercice en devient un jeu d'acrobatie, souvent au détriment de la santé du chercheur et de la qualité de sa recherche.

8 En France, les sujets et le calendrier des projets de recherche sont encore relativement souples et établis par les chercheurs eux-mêmes. Mais pourra-t-on continuer de jouir de cette liberté dans un système de type managérial où les projets, leur pertinence et leur durée seront évalués par des non-spécialistes ? Dès la seconde année de mon contrat en Asie, lorsque les projets ont commencé à s’accumuler, leur durée était souvent calculée de façon aléatoire par les administrateurs, sans consultation des chercheurs. Aux précédents projets s’ajoutaient de nouveaux, le plus souvent d’intérêt national, sans adaptation des calendriers. Dans ces logiques, les projets commandés par le financeur le plus important (ministères, agences gouvernementales ou fonds issus de donations d’États ou de sociétés privées) devenaient prioritaires. Les cartes étaient rapidement rebattues et redistribuées tandis que les sujets de recherche sur le temps long, sur lesquels repose souvent l’expertise du chercheur, devaient être sacrifiés pour pouvoir respecter les « délais de livraison ». En effet, l’évaluation du centre de recherche se faisait notamment au nombre de projets remportés au cours de l’année financière. À ces contraintes de temps de plus en plus serrées venait s’ajouter une politique de publication qui encourageait les chercheurs à publier dans la revue maison, mettant les uns en concurrence avec les autres du fait du nombre limité d’articles par numéro paru. Cette politique conduisait ainsi les chercheurs à sortir du système du ranking qui, bien que critiquable, détermine leurs chances d’être recrutés plus tard ailleurs.

9 Enfin, une des conséquences d’un système managérial où les sujets sont évalués par des non-spécialistes est aussi la dépossession et l’appropriation des données de la recherche et de la propriété intellectuelle. Dans un système où l’expertise du chercheur n’est pas une priorité, les sujets et les projets peuvent en effet être redistribués de façon aléatoire. S’agissant peut-être d’un cas extrême, l’un de mes collègues s’est vu dépossédé d’un projet dont la rédaction lui avait déjà coûté plusieurs mois de travail, au profit d’un autre collègue, dans le seul but d’optimiser l’organisation du travail. Un autre chercheur, venant cette fois d’un autre centre de recherche, devait signer un contrat dans lequel il cédait la propriété de ses futures données de terrain à son employeur, dès la fin de son contrat.

10 Un certain nombre de collègues partageaient ce sentiment de frustration à sacrifier leurs compétences et la production d’un savoir spécialisé à celle d’un savoir généraliste au service de l’écriture d’une histoire nationale. Ce sentiment d’impuissance et de gâchis des savoirs était partagé par ceux qui, comme moi, s’étaient réjouis qu’une institution publique investisse dans la production de connaissances sur l’histoire régionale, pas seulement nationale. En réalité, ce centre de recherche s’était concentré en quelques années seulement sur les dynamiques politiques et économiques de son propre pays, et celles de ses voisins immédiats, en partie pour des raisons de sécurité

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nationale. Il n'avait d’asiatique que son lieu d’implantation, la recherche elle-même se tournant de plus en plus vers l’histoire nationale, ou au plus celle des États immédiatement voisins.

11 À en juger par cet exemple à bien des égards paradigmatiques, ce sont les fondements mêmes du métier de chercheur que la managérialisation et le financement par projets à court terme mettent en danger. Ils y perdent leur expertise unique, la propriété de leurs données, leur libre arbitre, les moyens pratiques et intellectuels de travailler.

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Être professeur junior à l’université allemande : retour d’expérience

Elsa Clavé

1 En 2014, alors récemment docteure de l’EHESS en histoire, je répondais à un appel à candidature pour un poste en Allemagne au titre énigmatique, junior professor - W 1.

2 Le futur professeur junior devait être un jeune docteur avec une expérience conséquente d’enseignement et de recherche, un profil international, et il devait également pouvoir démontrer son aptitude à enseigner un large éventail de cours sur la zone recherchée, en l’occurrence la littérature et l’histoire de l’Indonésie, mais aussi les médias et le malais classique. J’avais par un très heureux concours de circonstances une expérience et un intérêt pour tous les domaines recherchés. En France, j’avais à plusieurs reprises entendu que mon parcours était trop éclectique pour obtenir un poste en histoire. En Allemagne, on voyait cela comme une richesse, on m’a donc ouvert la porte.

3 La première fut celle de l’audition à l’université. J’y présentais mon projet de recherche avant d’échanger avec les membres du jury, puis avec les étudiants à huis clos, pendant près de trois heures. Après une attente de plusieurs mois due à une procédure stricte – deux rapporteurs externes devaient se prononcer sur mon dossier, puis un classement final devait être produit sur la base de leurs avis, de celui du jury, et des étudiants – je recevais un courriel de félicitations m’annonçant ma future nomination. Nous étions en mars 2015, et je commençais à enseigner en avril.

4 À mon arrivée, je découvrais un immense bureau – la superficie était apparemment liée au poste – et je m’étonnais de la déférence dont certains collègues faisaient preuve à mon égard. Le titre de professeur junior allait avec une hiérarchie à laquelle je ne me suis jamais faite et je pense que beaucoup ne savent pas encore très bien comment se comporter avec un ‘presque-professeur’ dans un système qui valorise autant le rang supérieur. J’ai mis plusieurs mois avant de comprendre ce que représentait le junior professorship1 : une voie royale au professorat dans un système où la maîtrise de conférence n’existe pas, la liberté de mener mes recherches comme bon me le semblait, alors que la plupart de mes collègues chercheurs (wissenschaftliche Mitarbeiter) devaient

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travailler sur des projets obtenus par financements externes et pour lesquels les contraintes étaient nombreuses. La principale contrainte était souvent leur rôle d’assistant, tâche qui prenait une part considérable de leur temps occupé à l’organisation d’événements divers – réunion, retraite collective, conférence – lesquels faisaient certes avancer le projet de manière générale, mais beaucoup moins le leur en particulier. Ils devaient cependant tous travailler sur un sujet le plus souvent totalement nouveau, avec pour objectif d’obtenir, dans un délai de 6 ans maximum, leur Habilitation2. J’étais donc exempte de tout cela, mais pas totalement.

5 Dans les textes, complexes et changeants d’une région à l’autre, un professeur junior peut en théorie postuler un poste de professeur, le plus souvent après avoir été évalué positivement au moins une fois3 . Dans les faits, et de manière tout à fait logique, un jury préférera toujours un collègue titulaire de l’habilitation, donc d’un second domaine d’expertise – et d’un second ouvrage en nom propre publié. Le junior professorship a valeur d’habilitation car il doit donner le temps de mener à terme un second projet de recherche. Le recrutement ne se substitue donc pas à l’habilitation, il permet simplement d’en remplacer les modalités et les conditions. Le professeur junior ne passe pas devant un jury pour présenter sa « seconde thèse », nom que l’on donne communément à l’habilitation, mais il produit ce travail pour son évaluation finale qui a lieu après 6 ans. Le poste existe en Allemagne sous deux formes : le tenure-track, avec une titularisation possible à l’issue de cette période, et le non tenure-track, limité dans le temps et qui assure seulement la qualification au professorat4.

6 Lors de ces 6 ans de formation – car c’est ainsi qu’il faut les comprendre – on attend que le futur professeur acquière les autres qualités nécessaires au poste, lesquelles sont en Allemagne au nombre de quatre : recherche, bien évidemment, mais également obtention de financements extérieurs, enseignement, et administration, c’est-à-dire capacité à anticiper les décisions des instances de l’université et à défendre bec et ongles les intérêts de son département et de sa discipline. Mener les quatre de front n’a rien d’impossible, le faire en deux ans (date du début de la procédure d’évaluation intermédiaire) est plus complexe. Quand les appels à financement demandent des qualités de contorsionniste afin de pouvoir les obtenir, les difficultés commencent.

7 Le plus grand problème est de demander des financements alors qu’ils ne sont pas toujours nécessaires. Il s’agit du grand désavantage du système allemand : un professeur – junior ou pas – est censé rapporter de l’argent à son université, il ne peut en être autrement. Or, un professeur junior se voit allouer une somme qui varie en fonction des moyens des universités mais qui suffit, en général, à couvrir les frais engagés par les missions et l’achat de matériel les premières années. Cela correspondait, grosso-modo, aux moyens qui m’auraient été alloués si j’avais été recrutée dans le laboratoire du CNRS où j’ai fait ma thèse5. Je n’avais donc pas besoin de financements supplémentaires pour mener ma recherche les trois premières années. Alors que j’aurais préféré me concentrer pleinement à travailler sur les questions qui m’intéressaient, j’ai participé, puis initié, des collaborations pour monter des projets tentaculaires où je n’ai pas seulement perdu beaucoup de temps en réunion mais où j’ai également fini par me perdre aussi un peu moi-même. Comme le rappelle très justement un texte de ce numéro, il faudrait ne jamais oublier ce qui motive l’enseignant-chercheur, et le message s’adresse en premier lieu à l’enseignant- chercheur lui-même.

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8 Mais l’obtention de financement est un critère de sélection de plus en plus important, et à dossiers équivalents, il est bien entendu déterminant. Pour le poste que j’occupe, point de salut sans projet financé. Pour expliquer cette insistance sur l’obtention de crédits extérieurs, il faut comprendre que l’université allemande se finance, en partie, par ce biais. Chaque appel à projets remporté crée des emplois, permet l’achat de matériel, mais contribue également à financer le fonctionnement de l’université qui se voit reverser, automatiquement, un pourcentage de la somme totale. Il y a donc un besoin structurel de remporter des financements extérieurs (third-party funding).

9 Comme les crédits alloués aux départements sont trop minces pour pouvoir prendre en charge les frais générés par l’organisation d’activités scientifiques, tout se fait par le biais de ces financements, y compris les colloques. Le manque de dotations budgétaires au sein de l’université est ainsi compensé par l’existence d’autres sources de financement. Je citerai la Fondation allemande pour la recherche (deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft - DFG), qui est le principal organisme de financement public allemand, mais il existe d’autres fondations privées. L’ensemble offre des possibilités inexistantes en France en termes de moyens et présente, à mon avis, plus d’avantages que d’inconvénients. La constitution d’un dossier peut paraître fastidieuse mais elle participe à la préparation de l’événement et aide à garantir sa tenue dans les meilleures conditions. En revanche, la rigidité de certains critères peut surprendre. La Fondation allemande pour la recherche ne finance, par exemple, que les participants ayant un doctorat. Cette règle semble suggérer que les professionnels reconnus ou les doctorants n’ont rien à apporter aux discussions. Scientifiquement, la position n’est bien entendu pas défendable.

10 Cela m’amène à la question de la gestion et au contrôle de la production scientifique dont nous avons tous pu constater les travers obsessionnels, en France, ces dernières années. Lors de mes trois premières années passées en Allemagne, à la suite desquelles j’ai changé d’établissement, j’ai découvert que l’on affrontait souvent la direction à la manière d’un combat, et que là où on était en droit de s’attendre à de la confiance – de la part d’une institution au sein de laquelle et pour laquelle on travaillait – on rencontrait bien souvent de la défiance. Il faut dire ici un mot de mon domaine de recherche, étroitement lié à l’expérience que je rapporte. Les études sud-est asiatiques sont considérées, au même titre que l’égyptologie ou la biophysique, comme un « petit domaine » de recherche et d’enseignement (kleine Fächer). Les matières considérées comme rares et participant à la diversité des sujets enseignés font l’objet d’une attention particulière, et relativement récente, que l’on doit aux efforts de planification de l’université allemande de ces dernières années. Cette planification, visant une réduction des coûts, a mis en lumière le problème suivant : nombre de filières n’ont pas un nombre d’étudiants suffisant pour garantir leur financement. Or, il était inconcevable de supprimer des filières qui contribuent à la vie scientifique allemande et dont le niveau d’expertise est le plus souvent très élevé. Un mécanisme de financement complémentaire a ainsi été imaginé et la région (Land) verse désormais des dotations supplémentaires afin de garantir le maintien des kleine Fächer. Au niveau national et dans les textes, la conférence des recteurs universitaires reconnaît les spécificités de ces domaines ainsi que la possibilité d’avoir un modèle différencié de recherche. Dans les faits, la question est traitée de manière différente dans chaque Land, en fonction des spécificités de ses universités. Il reste qu’un « petit sujet » doit toujours gagner sa respectabilité, laquelle est jugée à l’aune des financements

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rapportés. Les petits domaines de recherche et d’enseignement sont donc constamment obligés de prouver leur légitimité et lorsqu’il s’agit de convaincre la présidence de sa propre université, l’exercice est épuisant.

11 Mais revenons aux qualités supposées du futur professeur. Obtenir des financements, assimiler le drôle de fonctionnement de l’université, tout cela prend du temps et donc empiète sur la recherche, car l’enseignement est une mission centrale qui ne peut être délaissée. Je n’ai enseigné que deux cours par semestre les deux premières années, puis ma charge a été augmentée à trois après ma première évaluation, le service ordinaire d’un professeur étant de quatre. À chaque semestre, j’ai eu des échanges constants avec les étudiants en marge des cours. C’est, à mon sens, une grande force du système allemand que la place centrale donnée à ces échanges. Les évaluations des cours, obligatoires dans la phase de qualification, ne sont pas parfaites et un étudiant frustré peut, certes, ne pas être très objectif. Cela dit, elles reflètent globalement la réception du cours et il s’agit là d’un miroir tendu fort utile quand on pense aux nombreuses crises que traverse l’université. En Allemagne, les cours de licence se vivent beaucoup sur le mode de l’échange et on y apprend que ce n’est pas seulement aux étudiants de s’adapter mais aussi à l’enseignant. Est-ce dérangeant ? Peut-être un peu au début car la remise en question n’est pas toujours confortable mais finalement, il s’agit d’apprendre à mieux transmettre un savoir et à montrer l’importance qu’il peut avoir pour chacun. Il s’agit à mon sens d’une des missions fondamentales de l’université.

12 Cela étant dit, il faut garder à l’esprit que les postes de professeur junior sont très rares. Le bon déroulement des cours repose, dans son ensemble, sur la précarité d’une très grande partie du personnel. Mes collègues, doctorants, post-doctorants (wissenschaftliche Mirtabeiter), ou chargés de cours (Lehrbeauftragte), fournissent non seulement un travail disproportionné par rapport à leur mission principale mais souvent, ils ne sont pas rémunérés pour leur enseignement6. Les chercheurs du Centre Marc Bloch-Berlin expliquaient, dans leur déclaration du 17 février7, que la concurrence exacerbée expliquait cette situation. Certes, les postes sont rares et il existe un besoin indéniable d’obtenir une expérience d’enseignement. Mais lorsque les heures de cours ne sont pas rémunérées, nous touchons un autre problème : le plus grand paradoxe de l’université allemande, riche de ses crédits de recherche et en même temps très pauvre, pouvant à peine couvrir les frais engagés par les cours à dispenser, a minima, pour assurer le programme des diplômes proposés dans certaines sections. J’ai travaillé au sein de deux universités allemandes bénéficiant de fonds très importants, alloués aux clusters d’excellence8. Dans les deux cas, j’ai assisté à des situations ubuesques quant à l’emploi des fonds en raison de règles incompréhensibles, mais pourtant bien réelles. Les fonds de ces projets financent certes des chaires, mais il existe un abîme entre la vie du département, où les cours sont dispensés, et celui des programmes de recherche qui existent au sein des mêmes universités. Or, séparer ainsi la recherche de l’enseignement, tout en prétendant les considérer de concert, notamment à partir du master, est à mon sens la plus grande erreur de nos systèmes. Sur ce point, et à quelques exceptions près, la France et l’Allemagne sont sur un pied d’égalité. La recherche devrait nourrir l’enseignement et lui permettre de se transformer, de penser des séminaires adaptés à tous les niveaux, voire d’explorer de nouveaux formats, car la curiosité et les idées naissent de ces moments d’échanges. On néglige à mon sens beaucoup trop le contexte et le temps donné à ces derniers, moins prestigieux, sans doute.

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13 Qu’en est-il de la recherche, dans ce fameux poste de « professeur junior » ? J’ai effectivement une liberté totale, mais elle se déroule dans le contexte d’une évaluation rythmée par un rapport à remettre tous les deux ans et demi. Lorsque j’ai commencé ma recherche sur la mémoire collective des massacres de masse de 1965-1966 en Indonésie, je comptais écrire un article. Les conditions de mon évaluation m’ont cependant poussé à développer mon idée première pour en faire une monographie, laquelle devrait avoir valeur d’habilitation. La nature de cette dernière, et le parcours intellectuel qu’elle sous-tend, sont différents de ce qui se fait en France. L’habilitation à la française ressemble certainement plus à un autre travail que j’ai commencé plus récemment et auquel je suis arrivée hors de tout cadre d’évaluation. Il concerne l’histoire culturelle de la diplomatie dans les sultanats malais entre l’époque moderne et contemporaine. Si je prends beaucoup de plaisir à travailler sur ces deux sujets, j’aurais aimé pouvoir le faire à un autre rythme et certainement pas dans le même temps. Au final, je ne ‘produirai’ pas plus vite, au contraire. Mais la recherche semble ainsi faite aujourd’hui, que ce soit en Allemagne ou en France, il paraît difficile de travailler sur un seul sujet à la fois.

14 Je ne reprendrai pas les arguments, déjà très bien exposés par d’autres collègues sur le fractionnement de la recherche. Les contrats à court terme contredisent le principe même de notre métier qui est la réflexion en continu. Nous revenons donc à l’essence de notre travail, pourquoi un chercheur cherche-t-il ? Je ne pense pas beaucoup me tromper si j’affirme que la première raison est une passion pour un sujet et que la seule chose dont il a besoin est de sérénité et de temps pour développer ses idées, échanger, écrire et diffuser ses résultats. Un professeur junior est-il plus serein qu’un post- doctorant ? Très certainement, et cela tient au temps et à la liberté qu’il a malgré tout. L’est-il plus qu’un maître de conférences ? Je n’en suis pas certaine. Doit-on envier le système allemand ? Absolument pas et je pense en avoir montré les contradictions et désavantages. Cela dit, le modèle français est, aujourd’hui, tout aussi mauvais et les problèmes ne tiennent pas seulement au manque de postes en CDI. L’université n’a plus les moyens structurels de remplir la mission qui est la sienne.

15 Dans la dernière version du projet de loi de programmation pluriannuelle de la recherche (07/06/20), la chaire de professeur junior est présentée comme un nouveau poste qui viendrait en complément du système existant, sans supprimer la maîtrise de conférences (article 3 du projet de loi de programmation de la recherche pour les années 2021 à 2030). Le texte ne mentionne cependant pas ce qui fait, à mon avis, l’intérêt du poste : la formation sur 6 ans, qui implique un accompagnement bienveillant par des collègues professeurs, les moyens alloués, et l’importance de la mission d’enseignement, à égalité avec celle de la recherche. Rien ne dit, cependant, que cela ne sera pas fait puisque le contrat devra stipuler « les engagements des parties sur les objectifs à atteindre par l’intéressé et les moyens qui seront apportés par son employeur pour exercer ses fonctions. » Ces points seront précisés par l’université, il est donc important que la présidence se pose la question de la finalité de ce nouveau poste : pour quelles raisons est-il créé ? S’il s’agit d’une course à l’excellence, sa création ne fera qu’aggraver l’état d’un système déjà à bout de souffle sans apporter, je le crains, beaucoup plus d’« excellence ». Dans l’état actuel, au vu du nombre de postes, je vois difficilement comment le recrutement pourrait être plus compétitif. Si, en revanche, on souhaite mieux accompagner le jeune enseignant-chercheur, et l’aider à accomplir sa double mission, en la remettant au centre de ces 6 années de tenure, la

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création de ce poste pourrait être bénéfique pour tous. Mais dans ce cas, pourquoi créer un nouvel intitulé et ne pas simplement réformer en profondeur la maîtrise de conférences ? Il y a, on le voit, peu de chances que la nouvelle chaire soit introduite pour repenser l’université dans son ensemble, et l’aider à retrouver son souffle. Une partie du problème de l’enseignement supérieur, en France, réside pourtant bien là.

16 Le problème que pose cette loi est qu’elle prévoit un système fortement inégalitaire comme ligne directrice du développement de la recherche et de l’enseignement. Créer une seconde voie d’accès au professorat fait en effet craindre le pire : reléguer au second rang les maîtres de conférences et ne pas leur attribuer les mêmes moyens, pour une mission pourtant similaire, que ceux alloués aux professeurs juniors. On peut aussi craindre, qu’à terme, la maîtrise de conférences disparaisse sans que le nombre de postes de professeur junior n’augmente. Le système français n’aurait alors plus rien à envier à l’Allemagne et aurait réalisé un tour de force : ignorer les avantages d’un modèle tout en se lestant de ses plus gros problèmes.

17 Car en plus d’un double système à l’université, la loi pose également le risque de généraliser les contrats sur objectifs dans les laboratoires, ce qui changerait en profondeur notre manière de faire de la recherche. Ce changement est déjà perceptible et nous sommes nombreux à en voir les effets pervers. Par ailleurs, je ne connais personne en Allemagne qui défende ce modèle. Il existe, on le pratique, mais on le trouve profondément mauvais. Il y a eu acceptation par résignation ; et à présent que le système est en train d’atteindre ses limites, les initiatives pour le dénoncer et le changer se multiplient (Lindner 2019). On sait pertinemment que la recherche n’est pas meilleure – et qu’elle est même souvent moins bonne – lorsqu’elle est faite dans ces conditions. Enfin, je me demande quelle sera la situation lorsque tous les pays s’aligneront sur cette politique de recherche sur projets, proposeront des contrats de 6 ans maximum, et que la loi interdira de recruter en CDD au-delà. Nous nous retrouverons dans une voie sans issue. Nos collègues allemands sont aujourd’hui obligés de quitter le monde de la recherche car ils ont épuisé le nombre d’années de travail autorisé et que les postes de professeurs juniors, et de professeurs, sont trop rares. S’ils ne peuvent légalement plus travailler à l’université, il reste que la société allemande valorise le doctorat et leur reconversion, même malheureuse, pose moins de problèmes qu’en France (y compris en sciences humaines et sociales). J’aimerais savoir quelle logique gestionnaire justifie le fait ‘d’investir’ à répétition dans la formation de professionnels hautement qualifiés pour finalement ne pas profiter pleinement de ce potentiel plus de quelques années. Nous avons besoin de temps, en continu, et le poste allemand de professeur junior vise à donner cela. Il ne fait pas sens dans le contexte français où il aura l’effet inverse.

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BIBLIOGRAPHIE

Lindner, Kolja (2019). « Le modèle allemand : précarité et résistances dans l’enseignement supérieur et la recherche d’outre-Rhin », in Duclos, Mélanie ; Fjeld, Anders (eds.), Liberté de la recherche. Conflits, pratiques, horizons, Paris, Editions Kimé, 2019, p. 209-218.

NOTES

1. Le poste est ainsi nommé en Allemagne où la volonté de suivre le modèle anglo-saxon est assumée voire valorisée. 2. Une loi de 2007, dite Wissenschaftszeitvertagsgesetz, limite à 6 ans le temps des CDD dans la fonction publique après le doctorat, et ce quel que soit le poste occupé. 3. Une évaluation intermédiaire a lieu au bout de 3 ans, elle est l’occasion de discuter avec le professeur junior de son travail et de la suite de sa carrière. 4. Le cadre légal tend de plus en plus à évoluer en faveur des tenure-track sans que l’État fédéral ou les régions n’accordent plus de fonds aux universités. Dans les faits, cela pose un problème de taille puisque, au moment du recrutement, les facultés doivent pouvoir garantir les fonds suffisants pour supporter les frais afférents à la chaire au-delà de 6 ans. Or, ceci est souvent impossible. L’université de Goethe, où j’ai travaillé, a ainsi perdu son poste de professeur junior en études sud-est asiatiques. Il a été remplacé par un poste de wissenschaftliche Mitarbeiter, moins onéreux. Notons que cet intitulé est couramment employé pour désigner les doctorants et les post-doctorants, et que ces contrats sont à durée limitée. Dans le cas présent, il correspond à un poste équivalent au senior lecturer du système anglo-saxon. Moins prestigieux que le poste de professeur junior – et également moins onéreux pour l’université – le poste prévoit une charge de cours et de tâches administratives très importantes. Il offre cependant une rare stabilité puisque le poste est un CDI. 5. La somme allouée au professeur junior pour la durée de son contrat varie grandement d’une université, ou d’un département, à l’autre. Dans mon domaine, elle ne semble jamais vraiment supérieure aux moyens d’un chercheur titulaire au CNRS ou d’un maître de conférence associé. 6. La procédure de recrutement de vacataires non rémunérés est similaire à celle des vacataires qui le sont. Un contrat en bonne et due forme est également établi. 7. Déclaration des chercheur.e.s du Centre Marc Bloch – Berlin (17.02.2020), https://cmb- wispo.hypotheses.org/. 8. Maillon central de la planification stratégique et thématique des universités, les pôles d’excellence bénéficient de moyens faramineux (6,5 millions d’euros par an) visant à établir des installations de recherche et de formation visibles à l’échelle internationale. Ils sont financés par la Fondation allemande pour la recherche (deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft - DFG) et le Conseil scientifique allemand (Wissenschaftsrat - WR).

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AUTEUR

ELSA CLAVÉ [email protected]

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Reflections on Exile and Academic Precarity: Discussing At the Margins of Academia

Aslı Vatansever and Aysuda Kölemen

Vatansever’s recently published book At the Margins of Academia: Exile, Precariousness, and Subjectivity (2020) examines the intersection of two states in present-day academia: precarity and exile. After discussing academic precarity at length in the first section of her book, Vatansever’s focus shifts to the traumatic impact and transformative power of exile in the second half. She interviews Academics for Peace, like herself, who were dismissed from their positions, banned from working in Turkish academia, and lost their passports after the 2016 coup attempt in Turkey. Most significantly, the book does not depict precarity as an exceptional state that only threatens less productive or politically undesired groups in academia. On the contrary, Vatansever insists that precarity has become innate to and necessary for the survival of the contemporary academic structure. In other words, academia as it is can only be sustained through the precarity of the majority of its members. At the Margins of Academia makes the case that exile is no longer the sole cause of precarity but rather a compounding factor, albeit a powerful one, in this milieu.

1 There is a lot to unpack in your book. I was very much intrigued by your discussion of the different functions that academic precarity serves. You argue that past and present precarity are both qualitatively and quantitatively different: exclusion from academic ranks and stable positions was a rarely employed tool to discipline unruly academics in the liberal past, whereas such exclusion is integral to the functioning of the academic system in the neoliberal environment of the last decades. Can you expand on this difference? What are its causes and consequences?

2 There is indeed much to discuss and elaborate on, because in ‘exile’ multiple political and socio-economic forms of vulnerability converge. ‘Exclusion’ is certainly a major

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component of exile, but it’s not limited to politico-territorial banishment. As I explained in the book, exile entails various forms of exclusion which become visible only over time and put the exiled individual possibly on a par with various precarious lives that hitherto seemed worlds apart.

3 But let us start with your question on the past and present forms of precariousness. First of all, we shouldn’t think of these in chronological terms, as they usually coexist. And we certainly cannot limit the scope of precarization to the academic sector. As you’ve probably noticed, I have developed the argument on the logic of precarization in discussion with various approaches to precarity and subjectivity. With regard to the transformation of precariousness from a punitive tool to a systemic logic, I am deeply indebted to Isabell Lorey’s works on insecurity. In her State of Insecurity (2015) Lorey argues that precarization is not a form of punishment reserved for the deviant anymore. She detects in precarization a deliberate form of governance that affects all subjects, albeit to different degrees depending on their proximity to the source of economic and political power. And the mechanism of precarization proceeds along all lines thinkable: through unstable employment, political instability, and destabilization of the conduct of life. As such, precariousness represents more than a functional tool – it constitutes the norm.

4 The causes of this sort of mutation in the systemic rationality are of course very much related to the structural transformation that we have been witnessing for roughly four decades now – known as the neoliberal turn. In a system where the stakes get higher and higher yet the venues to circumvent the tendency of the profit rates to fall become more and more scarce, you just have to decrease the number of the shareholders of gains and increase the number of those who share in the risk and instability. Many studies have pointed to the fact that implementing this sort of economic reality requires a brutalization of the political climate as well (Harvey 2007; Sassen 2014; Davies 2016; Streeck 2017). In fact, the rise of conservative populisms has been widely analyzed in relation to that. And we shall not forget that the question of this “shareholders of gains vs. shareholders of loss”-dichotomy also has a global angle: the shareholders of the global increase in political brutality are mostly the peripheral and semi-peripheral regions of the world-system. These are the same regions that have the smaller share in “gains”, i.e. a smaller piece of the global accumulation of capital. And this is not a coincidence.

5 Coming back to how this whole configuration affects the academic sector: In the book and elsewhere I have made a somewhat simplifying yet useful categorization: I described the combination of economic precarization and political oppression that the academic labor force currently faces as a “double pressure mechanism”. I argue that they are two sides of the same coin, although their proportions vary depending on the coordinates of a given region within the world-economy: In the core countries, the former usually prevails, whereas in the periphery we encounter more overt forms of the latter.

6 Whenever I say this, some people in the audience get restless and protest: “Are you saying that facing unemployment in Europe is equally bad as facing jail in Turkey? How dare you?” and so on – some blame me for downplaying the political threat in Turkey, some blame me for not appreciating enough the academic freedoms in Europe. In my opinion, this is an ultimately one-dimensional way of looking at things that still kind of reflects that old, Eurocentric reflex of defending the “European exceptionality”. First of

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all: I refuse to put these two – job security vs. academic freedom – on a scale and be happy with a Sophie’s choice. Second: The absence of violent forms of political oppression does not automatically imply limitless academic freedom. We must definitely ask, for example, to what extent freedom of research can exist where researchers have no job security, or where market incentives have come to dictate the research agendas. And last but not least: In terms of analytical value, we should all vehemently refuse this type of mechanical categorization as if these two factors – economic precarity and political oppression – could exist separately. What I have been trying to underline all along is the exact opposite: They are part of the same systemic logic; the fact that they occur in different forms and to different degrees in different places should not deceive us into believing that we can solve one without dealing with the other. But as Fredric Jameson once said, treating interrelated structural phenomena as separate, singular occurrences is unfortunately also an inherent tendency of the intellectual culture of late capitalism (Jameson 2015). So before we even get to dealing with the concrete structural problems, we find ourselves battling with the epistemological paradigm that prevents us from identifying those problems correctly and conjointly in the first place.

7 Let us touch on your application of the processes of de-subjectivation and re-subjectivation to the academic context, which I find to be the most significant contribution of your book to the debate on academic precarity. To me, there is almost an incomprehensible gap between our self- perception as academics and how we have thoroughly and universally failed to grasp and react to the ever rising precarity in our profession until very recently. We pride ourselves on studying, understanding, and explaining social phenomena. Yet the majority of academics did not realize that most of us were being pushed to reserve labor status – a Marxian concept that is central to your analysis of academic precarity – until it pervaded academia everywhere. Even as many academics began to personally observe and experience the toll of increasing precarity, they continued to perceive this as an individual problem and refused to admit that the system was designed to function only through the exploitation of the reserve army. Finally, even those academics who were aware of the situation failed to unite and take action. You discuss how we are complicit in our own exploitation, to the degree that we glamorize our participation in it, a situation that you liken to that of the creative professions. What we are talking about here are complicated structural and psychological impediments to organizing resistance. What kinds of mechanisms and discourses create this culture of complicity? Why do we willingly refrain from turning our investigative gaze onto ourselves? What do we have to lose besides our chains? What is our opium if you will?

8 This is an issue that has been preoccupying me for a long time. It is a widely known fact that the significantly high degree of occupational identification and illusions of autonomy in the so-called creative/intellectual sectors typically lead to voluntary self- exploitation and ascetic workaholism. Academic work is a prime example and actually the forerunner in this regard: Academics have been priding themselves on low wages and voluntary overwork long before the neoliberal turn made “passion” and “intrinsic motivation” into essential criteria of being a good worker. “We are not doing this for money” has always been the motto in the academic sector. So much so that salary secrecy and silence over the material conditions of living have been an integral part of the academic work culture. I remember for example how scared I was to ask about my salary when I was about to start working as an assistant professor at a private university in Turkey ten years ago. And how the head of the department – an old, male emeritus professor – literally frowned and refused to give me any information on that.

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He literally said “Why do you want to know how much you will get? Does your mama not give you any pocket money anymore?” This may sound exceptional, since it is the kind of thing that only an old, male professor can dare to say to a young female academic. But it is actually one of the many examples of how early-career researchers are being intimidated and prevented from defending their rights as workers on a daily basis. And this toxic work culture of salary-secrecy and worker-shaming is being sustained by the academics themselves.

9 As a matter of fact, when I was doing research on the working conditions at private universities in Turkey together with my colleague Meral Gezici-Yalçın five years ago, we had to listen to so many horror-stories: stories about how people signed empty contracts without knowing their salary, about how they refrained from asking for a raise for years on end, or how they didn’t even dare to protest when they weren’t paid at all for months. And yet, the same people who told us these stories in contempt were still reluctant to call themselves “workers”, because they believed that what they did was beyond the banality of wage-labor – they were dedicated to the holy pursuit of knowledge! Their alleged passion and dedication made them put up with exploitation, mobbing, and sometimes even outright degradation and lots and lots of job insecurity. As someone who’s been through hell and back and to hell again in academia within a decade, most of that so-called passion and love for research and teaching seem to me to be barely more than a coping mechanism. Especially in the case of precarious researchers, who remain infantilized as “early-career” well up until their mid- or late-40s: It is a coping mechanism, or an alibi, to justify and accept an extremely abusive work culture and exploitative employment relations. In the last instance, the over-emphasis on intrinsic motivation in academia originates from an imagined yet tenacious belief in the supremacy of intellectual desires over the material conditions of life. And as such, it is not only inherently reactionary and elitist, but also extremely hypocritical. Yes, hypocritical, because we all know for a fact what mostly dictates the research agendas today – and it is 100% not an unquenched desire for the quest for truth.

10 There is certainly some kind of a sacrifice at play here, but it is not being done in the name of knowledge production. People are sacrificing their mental and physical health, their personal relationships, their biologically reproductive years, and sometimes even their ethical values and dignity; but in most cases they do so only to stay in the game and survive. The majority of the academic workforce works under forcefully flexibilized working conditions with extremely short-term contracts and without any future prospects. For this new faculty majority, an academic career means barely anything more than ‘survival without surplus’. Under these circumstances, it is safe to say that we are reaching the social and ethical zero-point in this sector. And the way to this zero point is paved with good intentions – and with sermons about passion and dedication.

11 This toxic “self-sacrificial ethos”(Gill 2009) in academia, as Rosalind Gill calls it, was also institutionalized through the state-run formation of the modern research university and consolidated through academic rites and ceremonies. The typical status of the tenured professor at a state university – formerly the quintessential type of academic worker – is that of a civil servant. As such, the position connotes a certain selflessness pertaining to public service. But more importantly, it entails a direct link with the state apparatus – and, consequently, an actual legal ban on collective action in

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most countries. For example, this is the case in Germany. In the meantime, the ritualistic symbols of distinction in academia, ranging from feudal artefacts like caps and gowns to formal procedures like graduation ceremonies and doctoral disputations, contribute greatly to the elevated image of the academic worker vis-à-vis the other segments of the working population. While these ceremonial elements serve to enhance occupational identification among academics, they also intensify their dis- identification with regular wage-labor.

12 However, the structural decline of job security renders the civil servant status inaccessible and the ritualistic symbolism meaningless for a growing portion of the academic labor force. The disconnect between the ‘moral codex’ of academic profession and the concrete norms dominating the actual labor process in practice is manifested most visibly in the discrepancy between the tenure-oriented career culture and the actual percentage of tenured positions in today’s academic industry. The tenure model is in obvious decline and has become an exception in many contexts, whereas it continues to prevail as the archetypical form of academic work. If you think about it, in a world where it is known for a fact that there are not enough vacant professorships to absorb the qualified PhD holders, it is outrageous that professorship is still seen as the ultimate criterion for academic merit at every level, from institutional governance to occupational prestige and future orientation. The belief that one might get tenure one day, if one works hard and does not make waves, is one of the main reasons why the majority of the precarious academics are still reluctant to take action. They just don’t want to mess up their chances of getting a permanent position. It is simply pathetic how so many of them still believe they can make it, although they know very well the labor market situation – it’s like looking at a group of supposedly above-average intelligent and educated people not being able to do the simplest math! Or worse: it’s like watching a group of people propagate equality and justice in public but do the exact opposite in their own lives and turn into ruthless, Machiavellian sociopaths to get a job.

13 Nevertheless, at this point, I have to say that instead of harping on about alibis to explain why resistance is impossible, we should see that something is moving despite everything: The decline of job security and the astonishing rise of precarity in academia within the last two decades have led to a questioning of the academic work culture and its persistent myths for the first time. And again, for the first time in the entire history of the sector, we have started to witness collective action and labor activism in academia, as the recent cases in the UK, the USA, France, Denmark, Germany, and Italy show. So far, occupational prestige, job security, and the alleged pleasure derived from autonomous intellectual work have been the only advantages of an academic career. These advantages used to compensate for everything else. Now that along with job security prestige and autonomy fade away as well, the shine wears off and the brutality of the academic work culture and the deep-rooted hierarchy in academic structures come to the surface. More and more people in academia start to realize that they, too, are wage-laborers after all. You might say it’s not enough, considering the magnitude of the problem ahead, but the formation of anti-precarity initiatives in academia offers hope for optimism.

14 Your current research focuses on German academia, where we observe the unholy fusion of the rigidity of a feudally hierarchical structure and the inhumane “flexibility” of the late capitalist economy. Why do you think the German university system evolved to combine the worst of both

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worlds? Do you think the much touted but conveniently ambiguous principle of academic freedom in the German constitutional law (Grundgesetz) can be realized in this environment? Is it not time to redefine the parameters of academic freedom so as to include economic precarity and hierarchical structures as threats alongside political persecution? Your interviews with politically persecuted scholars who migrated to Germany only to experience extreme precarity reveal that while the sources may be entirely different, the impact of economic and political uncertainty on academic work can be chillingly similar. Can you talk about how these interviews illustrate the similarities and differences? Do German academics you are interviewing for your current project on anti-precarity initiatives in Germany frame their loss of economic stability and research autonomy in terms of academic freedom? What are the main differences between the perspectives of academics from Germany and Turkey?

15 As I said before, I am vehemently against handling the issue of job security and academic freedom separately. The fact that academics in Germany do not face prison for an intellectual gesture as simple and basic as demanding peace does not mean that Germany is a haven for the academic labor force and everything is perfect. We are looking at an academic system marked by striking job insecurity and feudal hierarchies, to begin with.

16 The commodification of knowledge and the privatization of higher education in the last few decades have radically transformed the academic landscape everywhere, including Germany. Universities in Germany have also been forced to eliminate non-profitable research and degree programs to become “market-smart” – and not surprisingly, this argument has often been used to eliminate critical strands like Marxist Theory or Gender Studies. Meanwhile, the cost-cutting mentality came to shape the academic employment relations. We can see it in the steady elimination of tenure and its replacement with contingent employment practices. The drastic cutback of public funds in higher education rendered researchers and institutions overly dependent on third-party funding. The overdependence on external funding increased the influence of the market massively, as can be seen in how the business-oriented rhetoric of “excellence” infiltrated the entire academic world. Under these circumstances, as you pointed out as well, we need to ask what is left of academic freedom even in countries like Germany that were hitherto seen as the bastion of it.

17 As to the exiled/displaced academics in Germany and how we should locate them analytically within the German academia: Germany is a particularly interesting case in point. It is the favorite destination within the EU for the same reason that should actually make it the least preferable: the plethora of third-party funding opportunities. At a first glance, the large quantity of third-party funding options looks like a blessing, but it’s actually a curse. Let me explain what I mean by that:

18 In the German academic system, the only form of job security is the full professorship and everything below that is fixed-termed. Currently, the full professors make up only 7% of the entire academic workforce in the country, which means that 93% consists of precarious researchers working on fixed-term contracts and/or in third-party funded projects. In the last 2 decades since 2000, the percentage of the so-called early-career academics (meaning: PhD students and post-docs) has increased by 76%. During the same time period, the number of professors has only grown by 21%.1

19 This means that the German academic labor market has produced and continues to produce an ever-growing academic surplus labor force. A great portion of this surplus workforce is used as outsourced labor for routine and less-awarding functions such as

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undergrad teaching, mentoring, and project assistance. The staff renewal rate in that section is horrendous – there are literally postdoc positions for 2-3 months, people get thrilled when there is a job opening for 2-3 years in an Excellence Cluster project. Interestingly, nobody is bothered by the rapid turnover in non-tenured faculty since they are seen as a disposable workforce anyway. In the meantime, a small labor aristocracy is granted job security and encouraged to focus on profitable research activities funded by “big money”. And these are the tenured professors who enjoy lifetime job security as state officials and possess additional budgets and assistant cadres of their own. This “systematic connection between precarity and privilege” is now what characterizes the German academic landscape. And it has immense negative outcomes in terms of the quality of higher education, the work-life-balance and mental and physical health of early- and mid-career researchers, in terms of academic ethics and collegial solidarity, and the future of knowledge production.

20 But fortunately, there emerged venues of resistance at the same time within the last decade – first in the form of local initiatives and then evolving into a national network of precarious researchers. I have been working on and in the Network for Decent Work in Academia (Netzwerk für Gute Arbeit in der Wissenschaft, NGAWiss) in Germany for almost a year now. As you said, I also conducted interviews with a number of active members. For the most part, their academic profile reflects the reality of the academic precariat in Germany. Most of the actors are early- or mid-career researchers off the tenure track. They have been jumping from one fixed-term lectureship or assistantship to another, almost always working under the control and at the mercy of full professors. Their senior colleagues respond to their struggle for better working conditions either with silent shoulder-tapping at best, or with contempt and ridicule at worst. And the most politically active and publicly vocal ones among them see their chances for a permanent job in academia as close to zero. So much for academic freedoms in Germany.

21 Their occupational life-cycles are almost as nomadic as those of the exiled academics: most of them had lived at least in 2-3 different cities or countries during their career. In some cases, the fate of an entire group of research assistants depended on one professor: when he decided to transfer to another university, they were all terminated. This constant movement, what one of the comrades, Peter Ullrich, calls “precarious mobility”, affected also their personal relationships in various ways. At the end of the day, regardless of where you are, as a precarious academic you are pretty much faced with all those aspects of precarity that are essentially hostile to decent human life. The crisis of subsistence is very much present for both the domestic precariat and the displaced scholars.

22 Considering the already huge extent of the domestic precariat, I think it’s safe to say that, with the influx of displaced scholars from all over the world, Germany is literally becoming a huge disposal for the global surplus academic labor force. When talking about forced academic migration, we tend to focus only and excessively on the political risk aspect. We usually forget that the real immediate risk even for an emigrated scholar is not the political one anymore, but the precariousness of the employment status. Being completely dependent on short-term scholarships with no future prospect whatsoever, the displaced/emigrated scholars are not really “scholars at risk”, but actually a part of the ever-growing reserve army of precarious academic labor force in Germany. For us, politically, the main question should not be the differences between

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Germany and Turkey anymore, but the common denominator that urges us to organize and act collectively as precarious academics. This common denominator is the vulnerability of our situation and the devaluation of our labor on a global scale.

23 In your book, you write about the disorienting experience of exile as a suspended state of existence in which there is no past or future but a continuous present. One of your interviewees describes it as a fog that limits your focus to the next step. Exilic life is exhausting. Moreover, the academic accomplishments of exiled scholars are erased, and they are asked to permanently define themselves not as scholars, but as scholars at risk. On the one hand, these scholars receive much needed scholarships at a very difficult time and they appreciate this. On the other hand, they are aware that they will never attain a status other than as temporary recipients of help in this system. Consequently, having been persecuted ceases to be something that happened to them and becomes a permanent identity that they cannot leave behind. What do you think that says about German academic and political culture?

24 I think the problem goes beyond the German academic culture; it concerns more or less all Western host countries. The issue is manifold: It has a structural/economic aspect, a politico-cultural aspect, and an epistemological aspect. That is why it is unlikely to be solved in the near future. And that is why the academic establishment tries to make do with palliative and temporary solutions as long as it can.

25 Structurally speaking, the exiled academics are not likely to get a permanent position, because there are simply not enough permanent positions! The academic labor markets in the so-called “leading countries in scientific production”, which are also the most frequently preferred host countries, are notoriously oversaturated. They can’t even absorb their domestic qualified labor force. The percentage of non-tenured academic workforce in those contexts is astonishing. Germany leads with 93%, but it is not much better in other places either: In the USA, 75% of the academic workforce consists of adjuncts, in Denmark the percentage of precarious academics is estimated somewhere between 50% and 70%. In the UK, you read heartbreaking newspaper reports about adjuncts resorting to sex work to make ends meet, or sleeping in cars because they can’t afford rent. By now, a vast quit-lit literature has developed in the US and Australia, documenting devastating stories of people quitting academia in frustration (American Association of University Professors 2014; Hirslund et al. 2018)2. And so on and so forth. Under these circumstances, it would be delusional to expect those labor markets to offer permanent jobs to outsiders, unless those outsiders prove to be excellent and provide indispensable research outcomes in their respective fields. Let’s be honest: this is not the case for the majority of the exiled academics.

26 Politically speaking, most of the host institutions seem to be confused about whether they are hosting displaced scholars with a humanitarian or scientific motivation. On the one hand, there are some requirements: you are expected to provide degree certificates, bureaucratic documents (which are logistically hard to access for many under the circumstances of expulsion, escape, and exile), and a decent track record. You are required to design a more or less solid research proposal even when applying to risk scholarships. In some cases, you are invited to defend that proposal in front of a jury or to a referee who interrogates you on behalf of the scholarship-granting institution. Which is how it should be in the academic sector, under normal circumstances.

27 Most of the time, we see that humanitarian motivations outweigh concerns about academic merit in the selection procedures. This results in the allocation of risk-

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scholarships to individuals who are objectively deemed unqualified or incapable of competing in the European academic labor markets, whereas those with strong CVs and international publications are left out with the argument that they can "take care of themselves anyway". And this makes one think that the selection procedure rather follows humanitarian concerns than academic criteria of merit. Another curiosity, especially in the German host institutions, is that once you get the grant, nobody in the host institution seems interested in what you’re doing with the time and resources you’re given. They seem even less interested in developing a real academic collaboration that might evolve into joint projects or alike in the future. Maybe this aspect in its acute form has a Germany-specific angle in the sense that the hosting of displaced academics is not seen as an investment in scientific collaboration, but rather as a liability one must endure for the sake of institutional prestige. Because I can say that this is not at all the case, for example, in Italy – at least not in my experience.

28 And last but not least, the tendency to keep the displaced scholars at the margins of academia stems from the inherent Eurocentrism of our epistemological structures. You can see the impact of this in the way your publications in your mother tongue, or your academic titles obtained in your country of origin, have little to no value at all in the host country. You can see it in the way you are constantly compelled to give interviews or do research on Turkey, regardless of your area of expertise – you may be an economic sociologist working on the mine industry in Congo, but here you are first and foremost a “Turkish” scholar, and rarely anything else. And even when you happen to do research on Turkey, you are usually expected to mouth generalities and endorse stereotypes – you know, that “Turkey was a secular country on its way to accomplishing what the entire Middle East strives toward, but suddenly, completely unexpectedly (!) the conservatives took over” kind of cliché.

29 All these structural, political and epistemological factors contrive a highly segregated academic environment, consisting of (1) a small group of privileged full professors and “principal investigators” as the main players, determining the scientific discourse and the institutional policies, (2) a huge mass of disposable academic workforce doing the less rewarding infrastructural work and basically sustaining the system, and now additionally (3) an ever-growing supply of desperate and grateful migrant academic labor force, used as image props and willing to do pretty much anything just to cling to the margins of academia in the host country.

30 You discover something remarkable in these scholars’ exilic uncertainty: a transformative potential. Can you elaborate on this? Do you think transformation of consciousness with regard to academic precarity and a desire to act is possible in the absence of such devastating and traumatic life events?

31 I do see a potential for agency even under the most challenging structural conditions, especially when it comes to a group of people – academics in general – who are supposed to be endowed with a greater social and cultural capital than some other segments of the working population. But as I emphasized in the book, what I see and try to flesh out is a potentiality, and not an inevitability. Its realization depends on a variety of objective and subjective as well as random factors beyond prediction. Nevertheless, exile as experience is known to sharpen sensibilities toward diverse forms of grief and pain. This is at least the impression we get from the huge literature written on and/or by exiled intellectuals so far (Arendt [1943] 1996; Braidotti 1992; Doukhan 2012; Hamilton 2014; Harlem 2010 ; Lamming [1960] 1992; Rowley 1998; Said

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2000).. This sensibility can manifest itself in a contemplative/individual way, or it can lead to a collectivity, if a concrete connection between different precarious lives can be established. The pervasiveness of structural vulnerability in today’s world would theoretically permit such a connection. But whether this speculative link will materialize remains to be seen. But there are efforts in that direction, at least in the German context. The Network for Decent Work in Academia has already initiated a first attempt towards building a joint platform for the domestic precariat and the exiled researchers. So, there is hope.

32 As to whether there could be a transformation of consciousness in academia in the absence of extremely traumatic experiences: Of course, there could be and there is a transformation. We see it in the increasing number of scientific articles, newspaper columns, blogs and various social media platforms dedicated to the topic in the last years. But we can also see it in the frequency of virtual and physical campaigns and protests against academic precarity. In the meantime, there emerged solidarity networks in various countries, as in Germany, and unionization efforts as in the US or Denmark, for example. In contexts with higher unionization rates such as England and France, there have been a rise in union-led academic strikes as well. Precarious academics in those contexts are certainly not going through a collective trauma as, let’s say, the Peace Academics from Turkey or our Syrian colleagues, but they are organizing nevertheless.

33 Can you talk about the optimism of the will and your present efforts to organize against academic precarity? What do you think about the somewhat unique challenge of trying to transform academia from the inside by using its own archaic and hierarchical tools? Employers and funders are becoming increasingly transnational while the academic labor force is forced to become impossibly nomadic to the point where building and maintaining personal relationships has become both difficult and undesirable for young and even mid-career scholars. Can local and national organizing succeed without an international movement against these international forces? And how can an international movement be successful when we face diverse and complicated power structures in every country? What are the tools in our arsenal? In a way, we academics are our own oppressors. So who are our allies and who are we up against in this struggle? And most importantly, what do you think are we capable of?

34 I think we need to think of resistance as a multilayered and long-term commitment to changing the status quo. And we need to be very clear about our goals, but be patient enough to work towards them gradually. If your aim is to transform the entire world- system, I’m afraid this will not happen in our lifetimes – at least not in the way we may envision it. The same applies to changing the academic production relations which inescapably follow the same logic as the entire structure. We cannot expect to change the whole mode of academic production within a couple of years – this is not only not feasible, but would also require forms of intervention which are likely to lead in a direction even more brutal and less egalitarian than the existing one. And, most of all, we have to be very disillusioned with regard to our own capacities. We know how hard it is to build collectivity and to convince people to act.

35 In this sense, local initiatives can be seen as a good starting point. They certainly can’t fight against an entire web of power relations and capital accumulation mechanisms that dominate the sphere of academic production today. But they can achieve partial goals and affect institutional/regulatory change in the respective contexts they operate. Moreover, as we can see in the achievements of the Network for Decent Work

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in Academia in Germany, academic anti-precarity initiatives, in whatever form they may emerge, ultimately manage to at least change the discourse: They lead the way in questioning the hitherto unquestioned and widely accepted academic work culture and institutional hierarchies. And more than everything, local initiatives and networks definitely inspire new venues and forms of resistance, and encourage more people to act.

36 How did your biographical narrative inform your research on academic precarity in Turkey and in Europe? Many of us in the social sciences are trained to distance ourselves from our subjects of study. You reject that approach. What do you think about how the politics of scholarly objectivity and the dictate of maintaining distance to our research subjects affect our approach to our own problems as academics, both in terms of how we perceive these issues and how we act on them?

37 I have based my entire methodology on a constant shift between biography and structure. I believe this – sociological imagination, to speak with Mills – to be the fundament of sociological analysis in the last instance. I don’t think it is possible to understand and say anything of relevance about the world one lives in without first comprehending one’s own coordinates. This does not imply a lack of analytical distance. Actually, quite the contrary: The ability to map out one’s own socio-historical setting means being able to dissect even your own social reality and relationships. It entails a deliberate methodological choice to step in and out of your own daily trivia to detect the socio-historical within the subjective, and vice versa.

38 As to ‘objectivity’: If the concept of objectivity is used in the sense of ‘transparency of methods’ and ‘verifiability of results’ – sure, we should observe it by all means. But objectivity as an absolute stance in social sciences is a scam and we know it already. Even your choice of research question is a reflection of your conscientious standing. Sure, there are facts: For example, the tendency of the profit rates to fall is a structural dynamic and it is a fact. As a social scientist, you can either choose the side of those who want to circumvent this tendency, and do research on how to decrease the cost of the labor force, in order to keep the profit rates stable. Or you can choose the side of those who suffer under the profit drive of a few, and do research on how to change the system that subjugates human life to a futile cycle of profit rates. Both research directions depart from the same concrete fact. But what you want to learn from and do about that fact in your research is an ethical choice.

39 And this ethical choice has everything to do with your self-positioning within the system. I am not saying this in the narrow sense that “if you’re coming from a worker background, you would choose your research agenda accordingly”. We know that this is not as simple and one-dimensional as that. What I mean is rather this: What you do in your research is related to what kind of future you want to see created – maybe more than what kind of past you had. And your vision of the future is – or should be – inspired by your concrete experiences and observations. If you’re not incorporating your own experience into your research, it means that one of them has lost all meaning for you: either your own social reality or your research.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY

American Association of University Professors (2014). “Contingent Appointments and the Academic Profession,” Report prepared by a joint subcommittee of the Association’s Committee on Contingent Faculty and the Profession and Committee A on Academic Freedom and Tenure, https://www.aaup.org/report/contingent-appointments-and-academic-profession.

Arendt, Hannah ([1943] 1996). “We Refugees,” in Robinson, M. (ed.), Altogether Elsewhere. Writers on Exile, Boston London, Faber & Faber, pp. 110-119.

Braidotti, R. (1992). “The Exile, the Nomad, and the Migrant. Reflections on International Feminism,” Women’s Studies International Forum 15(1), pp. 7-10.

Davies, W. (2016). “The New Neoliberalism,” New Left Review 101, pp. 121-134.

Doukhan, Abi (2012). Emmanuel Levinas: A Philosophy of Exile, London, Bloomsbury.

Gill, Rosalind (2009). “Breaking the Silence: The Hidden Injuries of Neoliberal Academia,” in Flood, R.; Gill, R. (eds.), Secrecy and Silence in the Research Process: Feminist Reflections, London, Routledge, pp. 228-244.

Hamilton, J.T. (2014). “Omnia Mea Mecum Porto: Exile, Culture, and the Precarity of Life,” Ethos 27(4), pp. 95-107.

Harlem, A. (2010). “Exile as Dissociative State. When a Self Is ‘Lost in Transit’,” Psychoanalytic Psychology 27(4), pp. 460-474.

Harvey, D. (2007). A Brief History of Neoliberalism, Oxford, Oxford University Press.

Hirslund, D.V.; Davies, S.R.; Monka M. (eds.) (2018). Report on National Meeting for Temporarily Employed Researchers, Copenhagen September 2018. Available at https://dm.dk/media/12351/ report_national_meeting.pdf

Jameson, Fredric (2015). “The Aesthetics of Singularity”, New Left Review 92, pp. 101-132.

Lamming, George ([1960] 1992). The Pleasures of Exile, Ann Arbor, Michigan University Press.

Lorey, Isabell (2015). State of Insecurity: Government of the Precarious, London, Verso, 2015.

Rowley, Hazel (1998). “Richard Wright: Intellectual Exile,” in Gould, Warwick; Staley, T. (eds.), Writing the Lives of Writers, London, New York, Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 302-312.

Said, Edward (2000). Reflections on Exile and Other Literary and Cultural Essays, New York, Granta.

Sassen, S. (2014). Expulsions. Brutality and Complexity in the Global Economy, Harvard, Harvard University Press.

Streeck, W. (2017). “Trump and the Trumpists,” Inference 3(1). Available at https://inference- review.com/article/trump-and-the-trumpists.

The Chronicle of Higher Education: www.chronicle.com.

Vatansever, Aslı; Yalçın, M. G. (2015). Ne Ders Olsa Veririz: Akademisyenin Vasıfsız İşçiye Dönüşümü; Istanbul, İletişim.

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NOTES

1. Bundesministerium für Bildung und Forschung (BMBF). Bundesbericht wissenschaftlicher Nachwuchs (BuWiN) 2017. Statistische Daten und Forschungsbefunde zu Promovierenden und Promovierten in Deutschland. Available at: https://www.buwin.de/. 2. See also The Chronicle of Higher Education for a number of quit-lit essays and related commentaries: www.chronicle.com.

AUTHORS

ASLI VATANSEVER

After completing her PhD in sociology at the University of Hamburg in 2010, Aslı Vatansever returned to Turkey and started working at a private university. Compelled by her own exploitative and precarious working conditions, she co-authored a book on precarity at Turkish private universities (Vatansever, Yalçın 2015). Vatansever was among the members of the Academics for Peace initiative who signed a petition calling on the government to cease its assault on civilians during an armed conflict in Turkey. In retaliation, she was promptly fired from her job by her institution in 2016. She was subsequently banned from public service with an emergency decree. Her passport was canceled soon after she left Turkey, and she was sued on charges of disseminating terrorist propaganda. She has lived in exile and continued to work in a series of temporary academic positions in Germany and Italy since then. She currently researches academic anti-precarity initiatives in Germany.

AYSUDA KÖLEMEN

Aysuda Kölemen received her PhD in Political Science from the University of Georgia, Athens, USA in 2010. In 2017, she was dismissed from her job at a Turkish foundation university after refusing to withdraw her signature from the Peace Petition. She is now a Philipp Schwartz Initiative research fellow at Bard College Berlin in Germany. Her research interests include public opinion and discourses on redistribution, politics of new religiosities, and democratic backsliding. She is currently working on authoritarianization and civil resistance in Turkey.

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Purge, Exile, and Resistance: Rethinking the Conflict of the Faculties through the Case of Academics for Peace in Turkey

Cem Özatalay

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I thank to all my signatory colleagues who have shown active solidarity with each other since January 11, 2016, and fought for their rights. Again, I am especially grateful to those who voluntarily contributed to generate the database about right violations against Academics for Peace, which I considerably utilized in this article, and for sure to my five colleagues and friends who gently accepted my interview requests and shared with me their precious experiences. Finally, I also thank to the editors of the EJTS for their comments and suggestions, and also for their willingness to devote a special issue on university in struggle.

To the memory of Mehmet Fatih Traş

Introduction

1 Like dissident journalists, writers, and artists, the persecution of dissident academics by governments has been a common issue since the beginning of modern times. Raison d’état has frequently judged it necessary to conduct purges in universities, particularly in times of crisis and transition. In the case of Turkey, as a late industrialized country with feeble and dependent democratic institutions, this “national interest” argument seems to come into play more frequently, feeding the idea that “the history of universities in Turkey is nothing but a history of purges” (Günal 2013).

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2 A bird’s-eye view of Turkey’s previous academic purges provides strong arguments to show the relationship between academic purges and transitions in capital accumulation regimes and related changes in the power bloc of the country. The first academic purge happened in the wake of the 1929 Great Depression. In that period, Turkey underwent a transition from liberal to dirigiste economy that, in 1933, was accompanied by a university reform entailing a sweeping “anti-liberal” purge at the Darülfünun, which was the only autonomous modern academic institution of the country as of that time (Ege; Hagemann 2012; Mazıcı 1995; Zürcher 2017). The second academic purge took place in 1948 when a liberal, outward-facing economic policy was substituted for the dirigiste interventionism that had been in force during the interwar period (Boratav 1998: 93–96). As Turkey’s dominant classes had decided to realign with the Western bloc in the post-WWII world and, in parallel with the rise of McCarthyism in the US, an “anti-communist” purge cleaned out the Faculty of Language, History, Geography at Ankara University in 1948 (for a detailed analysis, see Çetik 2008). The timing of the third academic purge in the country corresponded to the aftermath of the 1960 military coup d’état, which institutionally implanted the import substitution industrialization model in the economy and its triumvirate power bloc on a political level (Parla 1998). This period of transition led to a new wave of purge in universities, which has later come to be known as the “incident of the 147s” (see Alkan 2017). Finally, a fourth purge happened following the military coup d’état of 1980, which has been taken as the starting point of neoliberalization process in Turkey. This round of academic purge occurred in 1983 based on post-coup Martial Code No. 14021. Throughout this colorful history of purges in modern Turkey, hundreds of academics lost their jobs: in 1933, with the abolition of the Darülfünun, two-thirds of its academic staff (approximately 100 scholars), in 1948 five brilliant academics in the social sciences and humanities, in 1960 a total of 147 academics, and in 1983, according to different sources, 73 to 117 academics were temporarily or definitely dismissed (Ulusoy; Bora 2019).

3 The last purge in Turkey’s universities, including that of the Academics for Peace (AfP), seems to follow a similar pattern in the sense of having been one of the outputs of a serious economic and political crisis. Between 2002 and 2007, Turkey’s economy grew at an annual rate of 7.2% and the country performed relatively well throughout the global financial crisis. In 2012, however, Turkey’s rate of economic growth sharply slowed down to 2.2% (Jarosiewicz 2013; Peker; Camdemir 2013). The country’s GDP per capita steadily decreased from $12,519 in 2013 to $9,042 in 2019 (GDP per Capita (Current US$) - Turkey | Data, 2020). From a mainstream institutionalist point of view, the end of economic growth in the post-2007 epoch is related to the breakdown of the economic and political institutional reforms and the EU-Turkey membership talks that had been simultaneously carried out after 2002 (Acemoglu; Ucer 2014). For this kind of approach, the authoritarian drift in Turkey and academic purge as one of its symptoms can be interpreted as consequences of the AKP government’s withdrawal from democratic institutional reforms. However, another point of view, particularly a Marxist one, stresses the precedence of economic factors. More precisely, this position sees the authoritarian drift in Turkey as a rapidly evolving phenomenon following the aforementioned economic slowdown in 2012, rather than a consequence of interrupted institutional reforms. For example, according to economist Ümit Akçay, “after 2012 ... a slowdown in economic growth unleashed a new series of conflicts ... within the new political establishment, between AKP and the Gülenists, and ended with the failed coup

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attempt in 2016” (Akçay 2018: 16). Conflicts within the state due to a deadlock in the existing accumulation regime and its dominant ideology, and the pursuit of a certain restauration are important to understand our case, because, as İzge Günal highlights, academic purges in Turkey are generally related to the intra-dominant class battles and occur as “manifestations of a concern about the restoration of the dominant ideology” (Günal 2013: 121–122).

4 No matter which explanation is adopted, it is evident that the AfP case occurred in a context where troublesome economic stagnation was accompanied by severe battles within the state between ultra-nationalists, including those with pro-Eurasian tendencies, and the Gülenists2, which prepared the way for a “coup within a coup” on July 15, 20163. One can interpret these battles within the state, with reference to the analysis of Yahya Madra and Sedat Yılmaz, as convulsions of transition from populist neoliberalism towards corporate nationalism (Madra; Yılmaz 2019), or to Ian Bruff as symptoms of the rise of authoritarian neoliberalism (Bruff 2014). The current authoritarian drift would be considered as either the death agony or the resurfacing of a constituent part of neoliberalism. No matter which one of these explanations deems to be true, it is clear that the neoliberal “centaur state’s” (Wacquant 2010) paternalistic and authoritarian body has gradually prevailed over its “liberal head” in Turkey in the last decade and declared its triumph after the 15 July incident, throughout the two-year long state of emergency.

5 The AfP purge started rather randomly with the aim of criminalizing and terrorizing signatories just after a petition was put into circulation on January 11, 20164. However, it is important to emphasize that this process gained a more systematic and sweeping character with the post-July 15 state of emergency. While the number of signatory academics who had lost their job by dismissals, forced resignations, or retirements was about 50 as of May 30, 2016 (HRFT Academy 2019: 12), this number escalated to 549 in the post-July 15 period (Academics for Peace 2020). Furthermore, the difference before and after July 15 was not only quantitative but also qualitative. The dismissal by executive decree, which was one of the most distinguishing features of the post-July 15 period, is considered as a “gross violation of human rights” (Körükmez et al. 2019) and a “civic death,” leading to the complete exclusion of the ousted academics from economic, social, and political life (Sertdemir Özdemir; Özyürek 2019).

6 The pattern of the last academic purge is similar to previous ones in terms of being linked to and motivated by transitions in the capital accumulation regime and associated changes in the power bloc; nevertheless, this last wave has been clearly more devastating than others. Why did the new power bloc of the post-July 15 period act so far-reaching as it was stretching out its muscles as a show of strength against academics? Would a symbolic purge, like that of 1948 in the Faculty of Language, History, and Geography, have not sufficed to restore the dominant ideology according the priorities of the new power bloc?

7 The last purge has not targeted academics only. During the state of emergency, at least 125.678 public servants have been dismissed and banned from public service (“Olağanüstü Hal İşlemleri İnceleme Komisyonu Kararları Hakkında Duyuru (02.10.2020)” 2020). Seçkin Sertdemir Özdemir and Esra Özyürek made the claim that the extremity of the response has its roots in the rise of necropolitics, or the politics of death, which has come to the forefront together with “new authoritarianism” as a form of governmentality (Sertdemir Özdemir; Özyürek 2019). This argument is globally

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relevant in clarifying the distinctive logic of the last purge with respect to the use of power techniques. However, this approach does not sufficiently take into account the particularity of the university as a structural whole with its own transformations, internal tensions, and conflicts, and as a specific field of implementation of both necropolitics and neoliberal transformations. A special focus on the university might allow revealing the heterogeneous and stratified, even contradictory, structure of the category of persecuted and/or purged academics, and also putting the last purge in Turkey in the context of the ongoing crisis of higher education and academic freedom across the world.

8 This is what this article aims to explore through the case of the AfP in Turkey. What are the various profiles of the purged academics in Turkey? Which political, ideological, and economic dynamics have had impacts on the making of these heterogeneous and inequality-charged academic profiles? What impact has the global crisis of the university had on these academics before and after the purge? How were the post- purge strategies of the persecuted academics and their collegial solidarity networks abroad affected by the crisis of the university? To what extent have the international solidarity initiatives that were launched for at-risk scholars, especially the Peace letter signatories, been successful in addressing the problems of those academics? Finally, to what extent has necropolitical violence against dissident academics been intermingled with the neoliberal restructuration of the university?

9 In response to these questions, as a persecuted and prosecuted yet not expelled Peace letter signatory5, I develop an analysis based on my own trajectory and experiences in this period. A database collectively generated by AfP volunteers during the prosecution process and a limited sample of interviews with initiators or contributors of three ventures (the PAUSE Program in France, the New University in Exile Consortium in the US, and Off-University in Germany) are also utilized. In this way, this study attempts to understand the limits and potential capacities of such ventures to overcome neoliberal brutality that is inclined to take a necropolitical form in hybrid regimes, and to which marginalized academics especially from non-market-friendly disciplines of the humanities and social sciences are exposed.

10 Before examining these initiatives of academic solidarity and resistance against the anti-democratic turn in the world-political trajectory (albeit mostly by resisting authoritarianism rather than neoliberalism), it will be helpful to take a closer look at the most recent academic purge6 with a special focus on transformations of higher education in Turkey. This may provide an understanding of not only the interconnection between the purge of the AfP and the neoliberal restructuration of the university, but also the negative impacts of the latter on the aforementioned initiatives and their ability to achieve their objectives.

Spatial, Disciplinary and Ideological Distinctions Between Purged Academics

11 The last academic purge in Turkey targeted mainly two groups: left-leaning academics, primarily including AfP signatories, and right-leaning academics allegedly related to the Gülen movement. The profiles of the first group, who constitute a minority of approximately 10% among all purged academics, and those of the right-leaning majority have little similarity between them7. Composed largely by junior or early-

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career scholars who are mostly specialized in social sciences and humanities, the first group was purged mainly from public and private universities in metropolitan areas. In turn, the purge of the second group mainly besieged provincial universities,8 even targeted a large number of acting and former university presidents and other executives, and composed principally by academics specialized on STEM (Sciences, technologies, engineering and mathematics). This work is mainly focused on gathering information on the AfP. However, the widespread presence of right leaning Gülenist academics in Turkey’s universities before the July 15 incident and also their massive purge under Turkey’s state of emergency rule from July 2016 to July 2018 needs to be touched upon briefly.

12 Whether a part of any entryist organization or not, one can roughly depict the profile of Gülenist academics as moderately statist and nationalist Muslim, usually with an uncritical stance towards both neoliberalism and authoritarianism. Furthermore, referred to as “Weberian Islamists” by some scholars (Keskin 2012), a competitive spirit has always been encouraged in and by Gülenist circles (Özdalga 2000). In short, the great majority of the purged allegedly Gülenist academics were not known as dissidents in their universities and, due to this, at the time of their prosecution a considerable number of them were holding executive positions in these universities9. Another distinctive aspect of those who were purged on charges of affiliation with the Gülenist circles is that they were mostly employed in provincial universities (taşra üniversiteleri), which can be considered “second-rate” or “backwater” universities in the Turkey’s context10.

Massification of Higher Education as “Provincialization” of the University

13 In fact, Turkey has become one of the developing countries making significant leaps of progress, in line with the global trend of the neoliberal massification of higher education. The gross enrollment ratio of students in higher education institutions (within the total population of the five-year age group continuing from secondary school) was under 10% in 1970 in Turkey and had reached only 20% in 1994. In the wake of the AKP-led neoliberal reforms of the 2000s, this figure leaped forward to 94.7% in 2015 (Turkey - Gross Enrolment Ratio in Tertiary Education, 2020). As a result, in the 2018-2019 academic year, 7,740,502 students were enrolled in higher education institutions (Yükseköğretim Bilgi Yönetim Sistemi, n.d.), while this figure was only 2,868,222 in Germany (Statista 2020), whose population is approximately equivalent to that of Turkey. An increase in the number of universities comes forward as another consequence of the massification of higher education, with a rise from 53 in 1994 to 73 in 2004 and to 204 in 2020 (Gunay; Gunay 2011; Tekneci 2016; “Yükseköğretim Bilgi Yönetim Sistemi” n.d.).

14 Philip Altbach, one of the most important education comparatists worldwide, claims that “no country can afford mass access and high quality - it will never happen” (Altbach et al. 2012: 186–187) and Turkey is certainly no exception. The massification of higher education through the opening of “backwater” universities in every province of Turkey, mostly without sufficient and qualified academic staff, apparently made a massive purge technically possible. Because the quantity is always more easily replaceable than the quality.

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15 Consequently, nearly four-fifths (4890 of 6081) of the academics purged during the post-July 15 state of emergency rule were from “provincial universities” and the percentage of purged signatory academics within this group was an insignificant minority (see Figure 1)11.

Figure 1: Ratios of purged “Academics for Peace” to all purged academics in the three largest cities and the rest of the country. (Source: AfP Solidarity Database)

16 For example, the most massive purges occurred in Çanakkale 18 Mart University and Kütahya Dumlupınar University, both founded in 1992 and where the ratios of purged allegedly Gülenist academics to all active academic staff respectively reached to 12.40% (205 out of 1653 academics) and 13.59% (168 out of 1236 academics). However, in these universities there were only 2 purged AfP signatory academics, one of whom was a PhD student in İstanbul with a position at Dumlupınar in the framework of the Faculty Member Trainee Program (ÖYP)12. In other words, while the purged right-leaning academics were mostly from provincial universities, that was not statistically the case for signatory academics. Officially 45.78% of the signatory academics purged with executive decrees were from İstanbul, Ankara, or İzmir, but when we take into account the number of purged research assistants in the framework of the Teaching Staff Trainee Program (ÖYP) studying in İstanbul, Ankara, or İzmir with a provincial university affiliation on paper, this percentage reaches approximately to 55%. Finally, when we add to this value the number of all dismissals, forced retirements, and forced resignations due to governmental or administrative pressure over signatory academics, the percentage of signatory academics who were purged while working, studying, and/ or living in the three principal cities of Turkey increases to approximately 65% of all purged signatories.

17 Thus, given how an overwhelming majority of purged academics were accused of being connected to the Gülen movement, and that the majority of this group was from provincial universities, one could conclude that the massive character of this purge was related to the global massification of higher education. This is one of the manifestations of neoliberalization process, seeking to transform universities into “corporate suppliers” (Collini 2017) in order to contribute to regional and national

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economic and societal development (J. Goddard 2011; Pinheiro et al. 2018; Trippl et al. 2015). The neoliberalization of universities has been carried out in the wake of ideas about “knowledge-based economy,” which were in reality nothing but “economic imaginary” (Jessop 2017), and their effects have always been “mediated through inherited institutional landscapes” (Brenner et al. 2010). In the case of the new Turkey’s provincial universities, as their host cities were generally deprived of a high value-added regional knowledge economy and their processes of establishment were almost without exception embedded in local and national power relations (Şengül 2014), clientelism frequently served as a way of recruitment (For some concrete cases of clientelist recruitment, see Tekin 2019: 29–32). In these universities academic capitalism gained, to use Bob Jessop’s concepts (2018), predatory rather than market- rational characteristics. That is to say, even though academic capitalism has more or less predatory characteristics everywhere, distortion of rational “capitalist principles for personal, institutional, or political gain” (Jessop 2018: 108) are prevalent in these universities. It is evident that provincial universities in Turkey have always represented a target for right-leaning political movements, including Islamists and ultra-nationalists, within the context of the goal of conquering power. As a result, the power bloc of the post-15 July did not hesitate in carrying out a sweeping purge in these provincial universities in order to replace one group of right-leaning (allegedly Gülenists) academics with another one (apparently ultra-nationalist, Euroasianist, and pro-AKP). However, the purge of AfP signatories had been started six months before the July 15 incident and the profile of the signatory academics was in many respects quite different from that of right-leaning purged academics. Close examination of the beginning of the AfP purge will help shed light on some distinguishing features of this group’s profile as well as the characteristics of their purge.

The First Phase of Purge of the AfP in Private and Public Universities

18 Six months before the July 15 incident and eight and a half months before the publication of the first academic purge list annexed to State of Emergency Executive Decree No. 672, signatory academics had already become the target of the government. Following the release of the petition entitled “We will not be party to this crime!” on January 11, 2016, a lynching campaign was immediately launched against them under the guidance of Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, president of Turkey. In this context, the signatory academics endured a series of rights violations in the hands of political authorities and university administrations; some of the signatories were detained and arrested, while some others were suspended or dismissed from their academic positions. During this period, as one of the signatories, while participating in a financial solidarity campaign, I also offered to update the list collectively prepared by the AfP Solidarity volunteers, recording the signatory academics’ job losses due to dismissals, retirements, and resignations. In this context, I had the opportunity to collect information about the profile of the first purged signatories and, in September 2016, shared those findings to the AfP email group. Those shared findings were based on some descriptive statistics about 105 academics that were already purged, and nearly half of them were working in private foundation universities. As the expansion of private universities in Turkey might be understood in relation to the global

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neoliberalization of universities, let me share some of the information about these institutions.

19 The introduction of private foundation universities in the Turkey’s higher education system dates back to the aftermath of the 1980 military coup, when the neoliberalization process had newly started. In 1984, with an amendment to Article No. 130 of the 1982 Constitution – also known as the Putsch Constitution, foundations were allowed to establish nonprofit private education organizations alongside the public institutions (Birler 2012: p.140). The number of private foundation universities was 3 until 1995, and it increased to 23 in 2001. In the wake of the massification and marketization of higher education under AKP governments, however, this number reached 54 in 2010 and 75 in 2020, despite the closure of 15 private universities allegedly founded and run by Gülenist circles in 2016.

20 The great majority of foundation universities in Turkey are in fact profit-seeking institutions and, to achieve their goal, quite similar to public provincial universities, they need to maintain good relations with the central government. Serdar Değirmencioğlu stresses the similarity between these two “new generation” neoliberal university governance models by highlighting two sequences that happened before the AfP case: in the first sequence, at an opening ceremony, the president of a provincial university kissed the hand of a notable donor, who was an industrialist and a “true believer” in the AKP government, while in the second, during an introductory meeting at a new private foundation university, a young, newly employed scholar encountered the founder of the private university and kissed his extended hand, as expected (Değirmencioğlu, 2015). “Paternalistic respect” to political and/or economic power is apparently a common denominator of these newly founded institutions, and these ones did not hesitate to immediately punish signatory academics just after a lynching campaign being launched by the central government.

21 The first job losses were recorded in private universities located in metropolises, which resulted with the dismissal, forced resignation or retirement of 41 signatory academics. With the lack of employment security in most of these private institutions, these rapid dismissals were hardly coincidental.

22 Signatory academics in provincial universities encountered with bureaucratic and administrative oppression in addition to the lynching campaign against the AfP since January 2016. Disciplinary investigations and preventive suspensions were frequently used methods by public university administrations. Unlike their private counterparts, public universities did not immediately dismiss signatory academics, who are public servants entitled to legal protections under the Public Servants Law. Some university administrations, like that of Mersin University, adopted legally controversial methods, such as non-renewal of employment contracts for non-tenured signatory academics.

23 The declaration of state of emergency came to the help of these university administrations. After that, a large number of public universities gradually joined the purge against AfP signatories. On September 1, 2016, the Decree Laws No. 672 and 673 were published with the names of 44 signatory academics in the annexed lists of dismissed public servants.

24 As the figure below shows, apart from Kocaeli University and Ankara University that jointed to the purge after the declaration of the state of emergency, the first wave of

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purge had already started through the “new generation” universities just after the petition got into the circulation (see Figure 2).

Figure 2: Universities in which more than 4 signatory academics have lost their jobs by September 12, 2016. (Source: AfP Solidarity Database)

25 Furthermore, on October 29, 2016, the amendment to the Law on Higher Education, which re-regulated the appointment of university presidents, doubtlessly had an impact on the evolution of the purge. According to the amendment, “public universities’ presidents will be appointed by the President of the Republic from among three candidates nominated by Higher Education Council, and foundation-owned universities presidents will be appointed also by the President from among the candidates nominated by the boards of trustees and approved by Higher Education Council” (see Akça et al. 2017: 95). Thereby it has nullified intra-university elections and jettisoned democratic input of the eligible faculty members in the selection procedure of their president.

26 Following the ratification of this amendment, public university presidents, whose appointment renewal henceforth depends on the individual will of the country’s president, have turned the heat up and increased the pressure on the signatory academics. Some of these presidents chose a massive purge without distinction (see Figure 3), some others pursued a strategy based on sacrificing a relatively small group of academics by either directly sending their names to the capital, Ankara, or indirectly compelling them to resign or retire. A minority of these presidents did not touch the signatories.

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Figure 3: Universities that had purged more than 20 signatory academics (i.e. more than 3.5% of all purged signatory academics). (Source: AfP Solidarity Database)

27 One can make a certain correlation between these three attitudes and three types of universities, according to the typology developed by Muzaffer Kaya (2018). For Kaya the three main category of universities in Turkey are as follows: “1) higher tier public and private universities in the metropolises; (2) lower tier private universities that serviced the lower classes mostly located in the metropolises; (3) and lower tier public universities located mostly in smaller and middle-sized cities” (Kaya 2018). Provided that “lower tier public universities in the metropolises” fall under the university type 2, this categorization, which can be represented as a pyramidal structure, is quite illustrative to understand the differentiation of university presidents in their purge strategies.

28 Figure 4 shows clearly that among the universities with the largest numbers of signatories, as seen on Figure 3, only Ankara University, executed a massive purge against AfP.

Figure 4: Universities with the largest number of signatory academics in January 2016. (Source: AfP Solidarity Database)

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Humanities and Social Sciences as Target of the Purge

29 The difference between the right-leaning and left-leaning purged academics was not only related to the “geographical spatiality” of the universities; there was also a difference in their scientific disciplines’ place within the web of academic power relations. The “Turkey’s Academy – Under the State of Emergency” report indicates that of the 6081 academics who were dismissed with executive decrees, 2493 held a degree in the social sciences and humanities, while 3067 were specialized in natural and applied sciences. The numbers of dismissed academics from the fields of fundamental sciences and arts and performances were respectively 342 and 81 (Academics for Human Rights 2018). According to these figures, academics from applied sciences seem to have been relatively most exposed to the academic purge and necropolitical violence. However, when we zoom in on the specific cluster of AfP cases, the ratios among the scientific disciplines change dramatically.

30 In a preliminary comparative analysis concerning the case of AfP, Efe Kerem Sözeri had already clearly showed how much social scientists and humanists outweigh among the signatory academics (Sözeri 2016). Moreover, based on a dataset of 4,279 academics he created that comprises of 2,212 AfP signatories and the signatories of the ‘counter’- petition by “Academics for Turkey”, the 54% of the signatories of AfP are women, and one-third of the peace signatories are from universities abroad (33%) in a sharp contrast with the majority-male “Academics for Turkey”.

31 The pattern of preponderant persecution of the social scientists and humanists continued throughout the purge of AfP. On September 12, 2016, of the 112 dismissed AfP signatories, 87 were from the humanities, arts, and social sciences (see Figure 5). In other words, the purge of the AfP, unlike that of alleged Gülenists, unfolded first of all as a purge of the social scientists, artists, philosophers, and humanists from Turkey’s universities13. The pattern of the purge following the state of emergency with executive decrees did not deviate from the initial one (see Figure 6).

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Figure 5: Distribution of 105 dismissed AfP in September 2016, according to their disciplines. (Source: AfP Solidarity Database)

Figure 6: Distribution of 414 AfP purged with executive decrees according to their disciplines. (Source: AfP Solidarity Database)

32 At this point, two interrelated questions need to be briefly answered: why the purge of AfP targeted social scientists and humanists, especially in metropolitan universities,

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and why this group of scholars had become increasingly dissident and dared to challenge the Turkish state over a question where the raison d’état14 draws the red line. The answer to these questions seems to lie in the declined status of social sciences and humanities within the power structure of the neoliberal university. This entails, on the one hand, a sentiment of frustration among social scientists and humanists who have become increasingly alienated and been deprived of not only material but also symbolical resources of representation, while, on the other hand, as a reply to this structural frustration, the rise of engaged scholarship perspectives in social sciences and humanities.

33 “The conflict of the faculties” and the uneven hierarchy of the university structure goes back to the late 18th century. In a similar fashion, based on the dynamics of the 20th century universities, Pierre Bourdieu showed how the political leanings of scholars correspond to their positions in the academic field, and a subordinated position in the academic field creates a tendency for a left-leaning political stance (Bourdieu 1988). Indeed, the incontestable weight of social scientists and humanists among the signatory academics may be considered in the wake of Bourdieusian social space theory. Karl Spracklen, who published a stimulating book on the threats that social sciences have faced, states that “the lack of confidence in the social sciences predicting the future is the reason why its findings are not useful to the instrumental logic of capitalism or government bureaucracies” (Spracklen 2015: 27). Based on the discourse of the uselessness of social sciences and humanities, social sciences and humanities scholars, who are subordinated to this symbolic violence, tend to defend, generally in vain, their disciplines’ benefits to economic and social development and become party to “academic capitalism” and “publish or perish” culture in order to survive. It is not a coincidence that “engaged scholarship” emerged and blossomed in the late 1990s all around the world, especially following the publication of Ernest Boyer’s The Scholarship of Engagement in 1996 (see Kajner 2013: 10). When he published this groundbreaking work, neoliberal governments had already reshaped their higher education policies based on a perspective that sees universities “as vital sources of new knowledge and innovative thinking, as providers of skilled personnel and credible credentials, as contributors to innovation, as attractors of international talent and business investment into a region” (Boulton; Lucas 2011: 2508). Embracing not only ideological but also economic functions attached to it, more universities have moved from the periphery to the center of neoliberal government agendas. In return, the scholars in the social sciences and humanities became more marginalized and powerless in the neoliberal university structure, while at the same time they became more “critical and transformative engaged scholarship reach[ed] far beyond the walls of academia” (Kajner 2013: 16).

34 In the case of the AfP, this trend is more noticeable especially among the early career or PhD candidate signatories in the social sciences and humanities. As they entered the profession in the 2010s, these higher education institutions had already been marginalized and depreciated by the neoliberalization process. Statistics about the purged signatory academics also confirm it. On September, 12, 2016, when dismissals from private foundation universities already had statistical importance, academics with non-tenured teaching positions, such as assistant professors, lecturers, and experts, had a ratio of 53%, whereas those who dismissed from tenured positions (professors and associate professors) comprised of only 26 % in the whole purged group

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(see Figure 7). In their pioneering work, Aslı Vatansever and Serpil Gezici Yalçın (2015) highlight the over-representation of assistant professors in private foundation universities. Those institutions operate as “academic sweatshops” (Sharff; Lessinger 1994) dependent on the labor of assistant professors. They are simultaneously more competent to teach than PhD candidate teaching assistants and “cheaper” to employ than senior scholars. Indeed, according to statistics provided by the Higher Education Council, in 2016, when the purge started, the proportion of assistant professors, lecturers and experts within all private foundation universities’ academic staff was 61.26%, while the tenured positions represented only 25.6%. However, when public universities were added to the purge wave with the declaration of emergency rule, the research and teaching assistants substituted for assistant professors and, at a ratio of 39%, became the main victims of the purge (see Figure 8), approximately 80% of them specialized in social sciences and humanities (see Figure 9). Again, when we look at statistics of 2016 provided by the Higher Education Council, we see that in public universities the ratio of non-tenured teaching academics within all academic staff decreased from 61,26% to 35.85%, while the research and teaching assistants’ proportion rose to 33.34%. In other words, public and private universities are distinguishing from each other by their recruitment strategies, and consequently by their purge strategies. However, the two main target groups of the purge (novice PhD holders in private universities, and PhD candidates in public universities) are drawn together by two elements: being specialized in social sciences and humanities, and being in the early phase of their academic career.

35 To conclude, the data presented here proves that there are discernable differences between the profiles of the right-leaning (mainly allegedly Gülenist) and left-leaning (mainly AfP signatory) purged academics. First of all, while the purge of right-leaning conservative academics happened predominantly in provincial “backwater” public universities, their left-leaning counterparts faced the purge mostly in metropolitan interest-oriented private foundation universities, and in certain metropolitan public universities, such as Ankara University, Yıldız Teknik University, or Marmara University, whose administrations, especially presidents, were in tune with the political power’s agenda.

Figure 7: Distribution of the dismissed AfP according to their titles by September 12, 2016. (Source: AfP Solidarity Database)

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Figure 8: Distribution of AfP academics expelled with executive decrees according to their titles. (Source: AfP Solidarity Database)

Figure 9: Distribution of the research assistants expelled with executive decrees according to their disciplines. (Source: AfP Solidarity Database)

36 The second distinction between the two categories pertains to their scientific disciplines: while the purged right-leaning conservative scholars were more often from STEM (sciences, technologies, engineering, mathematics) disciplines, which are closer to power positions in the academic field, the great majority of signatory academics specialized in the arts, humanities, or social sciences. Furthermore, the latter group mostly comprised younger scholars who had newly entered the academic profession in a time when the academic field was shrinking and more precarious than ever before, especially the humanities and social sciences. In short, being a social scientist, artist, or humanist, having entered the profession in the last decade, possessing a critical and

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epistemologically constructivist point of view, and being an engaged scholar are frequent common denominators of the purged AfP group.

37 Additionally, women do constitute a majority (54%) among the signatories and represent 50.5% of all purged signatory academics and are without dispute a more engaged group within the AfP. It is well known that the feminization of professions – in our case, the social science and humanities disciplines – is always connected to how these professions are increasingly excluded from power positions and subsequently abandoned by men. Especially since the 2007–2008 global financial crisis, the “shecession”–not only in the sense of job losses but also regarding the patterns of job devaluation– along with a patriarchal conservative drift around the world has transformed women and feminized professional communities into dissidents. Composed mainly of scholars from devaluated social sciences and humanities, the AfP case is not exempt from this fact.

38 However, these frequent common denominators do not mean that signatory academics constituted a unified, non-stratified homogeneous community beyond class-, race-, and gender-based disparities. On the contrary, inequalities among the signatories immediately came to surface and eventually led to the aggravation of injustices. During and after the purge, these injustices have affected both those who stayed in Turkey under conditions of civic death and those who moved abroad to live in exile15.

39 Drawing from the perspective of the initiators and participants in three academic solidarity organizations based in France, the US, and Germany, the exile experiences of the purged scholars will be the indirect subject of the next section. The reason for focusing on international solidarity organizations instead of exiled academics per se is to unravel the brutal structure of neoliberalized global academia, instead of framing it as a narrative of “victimhood”.

Academic Exile, or Migration from the Body of the Centaur to Its Head

40 The consecutive and continuous dismissals of signatory academics following the release of the petition, even before the July 15 “coup within a coup” incident, necessitated efforts of finding a new job. The first dismissed academics were mostly working at private foundation universities, and this group was more acquainted with the precariousness of neoliberal academic work than those who were employed by public universities. In a short time, however, they were faced with the reality that they and their job applications had been blacklisted. Therefore, their searches shifted abroad and many scholars, including myself, for the first time, discovered the widespread existence of international organizations and networks with the aim of supporting academics under threat.

41 But, in fact, neither academic exile nor academic rescue organizations are new phenomena. The first massive academic purge in the modern history took place just after Adolf Hitler became chancellor of Germany on January 30, 1933, and the Civil Service Law enacted in April 1933 that requires the Jews and “politically unreliable” scholars to leave their positions at German universities. As Simon Lässig points out, between “1933 and 1941 roughly 2,000 academics who had lost their positions and had been at risk in Germany and its annexed territories were able to emigrate and secure

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livelihoods in their new countries of residence. They headed to France, Turkey, Palestine, and, above all, the United States and Britain” (Lässig 2017: 774). Given the fact that the post-war expansion of higher education had not yet started, the number of exiled academics from Germany during the interwar period was enormous. As the academic crackdown escalated in Germany, two separate initiatives were inaugurated in May 1933: The Academic Assistance Council (AAC) in the U.K., and The Emergency Committee in Aid of Displaced Foreign Scholars in the U.S. Unfortunately, first, the after effects of the Great Depression and later the WWII had widely stood in the way of these ventures. Attenuation of the academic job market in their settlement countries allowed a minority of exiled scholars to find tenure track faculty positions. For example, as Laurel Leff indicated, The Emergency Committee in Aid of Displaced Foreign Scholars received more than 6,000 appeals from European countries and ended up only placing 335 scholars (Leff 2019). Leff also underlines in her book Well Worth Saving the fact that the literature on the intellectual migration of the 1930s and 1940s has generally tended to concentrate on stories of those who succeeded, and thus become a “literature of celebration” with strong emphasis on the triumph of the U.S. – and the West in a broader sense– and the bereavement of Germany. But in reality, the majority of purged scholars’ applications to Western universities had been rejected. Only a minority of academics had the opportunity to be rescued from persecution and a few had to continue their academic careers in their settlement countries.

42 Returning to the AfP case and the exile experiences of signatory academics, at first sight, the situation might be considered as less somber. First of all, today, the number of humanitarian rescue organizations as well as that of universities all around the world is remarkably higher than 80 years ago. The most crucial difference here, however, lies in the fact that the risk they have faced and endured was not that of physical death. When they decided to leave Turkey, they were running away from a slight possibility of imprisonment, whereas the risk of being condemned to “civic death” was posing a greater threat. We will examine the consequences of this risk of civic death in relation with the current “conflict of the faculties” thereinafter. First, let’s look closely at the situation of numerous humanitarian rescue organizations that were already well established when the purge of AfP started in 2016.

43 Humanitarian aid organizations have developed rapidly in these last three decades in parallel with neoliberal globalization and the rise of necropolitics, in such a way that they constitute a field, where the law of the market works (Carbonnier 2015; Haskaj 2018; Weiss 2013). Tom Weiss stresses three transformative trends of humanitarian activities following the post-Cold War period as militarization, politicization, and marketization (Weiss 2013: 54). In an earlier work, MacFarlane and Weiss had pointed out how, in many cases, the states’ political interests intersect with the humanitarian motivations (MacFarlane; Weiss 2000). Thus, one can claim that in the humanitarian assistance field, political interests, profit-seeking motives are, as Viviana Zelizer conceptualizes in her analysis of interactions between monetary transactions and intimate relationships (2005), intermingled in some cases with solidarity values, and in some others with philanthropic efforts. Perhaps one of the most concrete examples of the political embeddedness of humanitarian actions is Turkey’s humanitarian practice in the academic field. On the one hand, thousands of persecuted academics left Turkey to find shelter and jobs abroad, and this brutality led to worldwide criticism of the Turkish government’s violation of academic freedom and freedom of expression. On the other hand, same government sought to gain worldwide appreciation through

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hosting and employing hundreds of exiled Syrian academics in the universities of Turkey (Solmaz 2019). Not to mention, Turkey’s diplomatically and militarily proactive involvement in the Syrian civil war since its outbreak in 2011 that had triggered a humanitarian crisis and the Syrian mass migration, including that of Syrian scholars.

44 The principal organizations and networks involved in the migration of academics from Turkey were founded at the turn of the 21st century and multiplied in the post-9/11 and post-Arab Spring warfare eras together with the worldwide authoritarian drifts of the last decade: the US-based Scholars at Risk (SAR), founded in 1999; the UK-based Council for Assisting Refugee Academics (CARA) in 1999; the US-based Scholar Rescue Fund (SRF) in 2002; the Germany-based Philipp Schwartz Initiative Fellowships in 2016; and the France-based PAUSE Program in 2017. While the private donators constitute the main source of funding for the first three of these organizations based in the US and the UK, in other initiatives established in continental Europe, the states have also become involved. Some organizations have institutional pasts going back to the first half of the 20th century, such as CARA and the Scholar Rescue Fund respectively under the names of the Academic Assistance Council (AAC) and Institute of International Education ( Sertdemir-Özdemir et al. 2019: 7–10). These organizations have been joined by new or renewed foundations associated with leftist political parties, such as the Rosa Luxemburg Foundation and the Friedrich Ebert Foundation in Germany. Moreover, new networks and formations also came into existence led by scholars with a rather “amateur spirit” and intentions of demonstrating solidarity with at-risk academics, such as Academy in Exile in Germany in 2017, Off-University in Germany in 2018, the New University in Exile Consortium in the US in 2018, and Université Libre de Bruxelles’s Solidarity Fund in Belgium in 2019. Thus, we are considering a field, which is highly prone to political and economic influences due to its funding structure, but also, in comparison to other fields of humanitarian aid, this field has a unique character grounded upon the relatively autonomous structure of academia in Western countries.

45 I have had many experiences with the above-mentioned initiatives that let me observe them closely. As a French-speaking signatory academic who was not purged, I had the opportunity to witness the founding process of PAUSE in late 2016. After being subjected to a trial in court on charges of “making terrorist propaganda” in the fall of 2017, I applied for a visiting research scholar position at the New School in the US that was offered by the New University in Exile Consortium and for which an application to the Scholar Rescue Fund was a prerequisite. During my stay in the US in the 2018-2019 academic year, I moderated an online seminar at Off-University together with a persecuted jobless colleague living in Turkey, who is also an old friend. In order to evaluate how these initiatives, whose target population are mostly scholars of the social sciences and humanities, were affected by the globally hegemonic neoliberal reasoning, alongside my personal observations, interviews with two colleagues from France on the real outputs of the PAUSE Program, the initiator of The New University in Exile Consortium Arien Mack, the author of “A Light in Dark Times - The New School for Social Research and Its University in Exile” Judith Friedlander, and, finally, Julia Strutz, an AfP signatory human geographer resided in Berlin and one of the initiators of Off-University, will be examined below, The idea that resistance against authoritarianism should not be separated from resistance against neoliberalism will also be discussed.

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As Befits the Name: PAUSE

46 The first dismissed group of signatory academics at private foundation universities largely comprised of junior PhDs, including those who had obtained their graduate degrees abroad. Such scholars usually had more opportunities to immediately find host institutions in the Euro-Atlantic countries for visiting fellowship positions; their academic and professional backgrounds allowed them to be selected more easily than signatories with no experience abroad. At the beginning, this imbalanced situation, which is a reverberation of the basic logic of reproduction of inequality, did not pose a serious problem since everyone was under the impression that the purge and repression of academics would end soon. As outlined above, however, the course of events was contrary to initial expectations and the situation quickly went from bad to worse. The number of dismissed signatory research and teaching assistants among all dismissed academics showed a stable increase. Mostly as graduate students in Turkey’s universities, they were not even eligible to apply for international opportunities for at- risk scholars. Such programs had been initially designed for threatened senior academics; threatened PhD students were excluded. As soon as this incompatibility was recognized, many signatory academics working abroad or in relatively sheltering universities in Turkey put together their efforts to support the search for visiting positions by signatories that are relatively deprived of international connections, in addition to initiate the creation of internationally funded fellowships, in order to support all purged signatory academics who could not, or did not want to, go abroad.

47 In this context, first Eğitim-Sen (Education and Science Workers’ Union) replied affirmatively to the proposition of signatory academics to create a financial support network for its persecuted and fired members. Secondly, the Social Research Foundation (SAV) established a fund for signatory academics, who had lost their jobs while working in private foundation universities, hence were not members of Eğitim- Sen. In the same direction, a French-speaking group of signatory academics, including myself, circulated a call within the Comité International de Solidarité avec les Universitaires pour la Paix (CISUP) network to fundraise for a project that “aims to support the scientific research carried out at masters, doctoral and post-doctoral level by the academics who are deprived of the opportunity to conduct their researches as a result of the restriction of academic freedom by political pressure.” At the time, owing to the “full-court press” of the AfP international working group’s volunteers, public opinion was molded in favor of the signatory academics. However, unlike the US-based crowdfunding campaign that was successfully conducted nearly one year later (see RIT - Research Institute on Turkey, 2017), the proposal could not further progress in France due to the lack of a legal-institutional sponsor to run the campaign.

48 Another factor that worsened the situation was the confiscation of the passports of academics, who were dismissed by executive decrees during the emergency rule. Nevertheless, this at least created awareness in the France-based solidarity circles about the profile and the needs of persecuted young social science and humanities scholars. The PAUSE Program was announced in October 2016 and formally established in January 2017 by an agreement between the Ministry for Education and Research, Collège de France, and the Chancellery of Parisian Universities. With concrete contributions and advice from some members of the French-based solidarity group with the AfP, the program extended its support to threatened graduate students.

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Between 2017 and 2019, 33% of 201 threatened scholars, who benefited from the PAUSE Program, were PhD students (see Program PAUSE - Collège de France, 2020).

49 Following the organizational model of the Scholar Rescue Fund (i.e. undertaking a part of the salaries to be paid to endangered visiting scholars by the host institutes) and the Philipp Schwartz Initiative of the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation as a funding model (based mainly on public funding), the PAUSE Program started to support French universities and laboratories willing to host scholars in exile. No one can deny the fact that one of the French government’s priorities was to catch up with other “imperial”16 countries already having their own humanitarian programs to support exiled scholars. However, it is simultaneously clear that all of these programs provided significant support to the persecuted and exiled academics in their search of livelihood, security, and temporary academic positions. They also provided an opportunity to collectively raise their voices in order to bring their cause, or their case, into the attention of the international public.

50 The inauguration of the PAUSE Program in the beginning of 2017 corresponded to the worst period of the purge of the AfP in Turkey; 299 of 415 dismissals with decree laws took place in the first three months of 2017 (see Figure 10). This triggered massive applications to visiting scholar positions abroad, which raises the question of guidelines and selection criteria in determining the best candidates for temporary positions: is it the academic excellence, the level of risk, or affirmative action?

Figure 10: Numbers of expelled signatory academics by executive decrees. (Source: AfP Solidarity Database)

51 This question preoccupied not only the selection committees of host institutions but also the persecuted AfP community, in which preexisting inequalities of class, gender, race, age, seniority, and so on among the signatories surfaced in a more resounding way during the repression period. In that context, a risk assessment questionnaire was proposed by a group of signatories, according to which priority was given to dismissed academics over those who still had their jobs, to those who had already faced trial over those who have not, to graduate students over senior academics, to scholars without international networks over those who had them, to women over men, to people with children over those without familial obligations, and so on. Leaving “excellence” aside,

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these criteria aimed to ward off the effects of academic capitalism while dealing with academic repression.

52 Unlike the German case, in France a considerable number of academic institutions, including the PAUSE Program’s selection committee, took into account the risk reports provided by a volunteer group composed of signatories from France, Germany, and Turkey. Unsurprisingly, some signatories with connections in France bypassed this volunteer-based questionnaire procedure run, as some French academic institutions prioritized the criterion of “excellence” or acquaintanceship rather than risk assessment. However, in the framework of the PAUSE Program, many French universities selected numerous signatory academics assessed as “top priority” by the questionnaire. Based on this assessment, among the ‘top priority’ academics, those who kept their passports or found an informal way to leave Turkey could continue their academic work, at least hypothetically, in France.

Between Hosting a Colleague and Helping a Victim

53 As one of the volunteer signatory academics, who collaborated in the preparation of the abovementioned risk reports, I had opportunity to closely observe the evolution of the PAUSE program. In the first two years, approximately 60% of the laureates of this program were from Turkey (“PAUSE a aidé 98 chercheurs en exil” 2018: 39) and a great majority of them were persecuted signatories. In 2020, the total number of academics hosted by French institutions through the program increased to 222. However, to my knowledge, during this period there is no Pause laureate from Turkey, who has been recruited in a tenured position at any French academic institution. Alongside of my own observations, in order to have preliminary ideas about the reasons of non- integration of exiled scholars to the French academia, exploratory interviews with two academics from France, who have been engaged in hosting exiled scholars from Turkey, will be utilized.

54 Both interviewees are women from the social sciences and do have ties in Turkey. One of them is a professor and an executive (Interviewee 1); in other words, relatively influential in her institution. The second is a research fellow with a tenured appointment (Interviewee 2). Neither of them were initiators of the PAUSE Program, but they have had many experiences of hosting endangered and exiled scholars in their own institutions since 2016.

55 The second interviewee, who is also one of the signatories of the peace petition, have joined academic freedom and solidarity activities in Turkey right after the release of the petition, or a year before the PAUSE Program was launched: Threatened scholars came to our university at first through the French Consulate’s Short-term Visiting Scholar fellowship announced in March 2016. At the time, approximately 15 signatory academics applied to this fellowship through our research center. Two of them were awarded and came to our university for two months (Interviewee 2).

56 At the beginning, the political repression of signatory academics in Turkey was considered temporary and almost no one expected it to evolve into a massive purge. Though a significant number of colleagues from different universities around the world showed their solidarity by allocating short-term visiting positions in their institutions to persecuted signatory academics. Approximately one-third of signatories, be it

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lecturers, researchers, or graduate students, were from universities abroad. This group, being relatively beyond the range of the Turkish government’s repression, played a key role in organizing such solidarity movements17. International academia was also very sensitive to the situation, especially social scientists and humanists, and reacted immediately (HRFT Academy 2019: 11–12). Interviewee 2’s efforts to raise awareness in her institution about the AfP case might be considered as an example of this situation: The support of my colleagues for these programs was 100%. We held a demonstration to show our solidarity with peace academics and everyone came. The point of view of the people was very positive and, truly speaking, they saw me at the time as a reference person. When I talked to them about a scholar in a difficult position and proposed inviting him or her, they were accepting (Interviewee 2).

57 The positive attitude of the faculty for hosting threatened scholars was equally highlighted by Interviewee 1: The city where my university is located has a socialist tradition and the proportion of left-leaning engaged scholars has been always high. Before the PAUSE Program, we had already launched a Refugee Student Program, with which we had enrolled a lot of students from refugee camps after conducting interviews with them. In such an environment, almost all faculties supported the PAUSE Program (Interviewee 1).

58 However, having favorable feelings for someone or something in advance does not always guarantee a fertile relationship between the interested parties, especially when uneven positions like “host” and “exiled” or “assister” and “assisted” are deepened by sociocultural inequalities. As Nil Mutluer (2017) and Aslı Vatansever (2018) separately highlighted, the majority of “host” scholars are inclined to see exiled scholars as “victims” and/or “guests,” which makes a relationship between peers impossible. According to Interviewee 2, such a point of view stems from the fact that there is a “shade of romanticism” about Turkey among some French scholars: I met two French professors at the university while I was accompanying an exiled scholar for her enrolment procedures. One of them even talked to us about Yaşar Kemal. They had a romantic imaginary of Turkey and of repression in Turkey. According to them, all people living in Turkey are naturally subject to repression and persecution. It seems to me that they aren’t aware of some realities. They can’t see the relativity (Interviewee 2).

59 Indeed, such a binary imaginary is based on the neglect of all relational positions and their internal conflicts and contradictions. Even though a considerable number of the exiled signatories struggled to deconstruct this simultaneously unreal and victimizing imaginary during their exile experiences, as the testimonials of Interviewee 2 indicates, there were also signatories who preferred to benefit from it at risk of reproducing this imaginary: I had received an email from a signatory academic who wanted to apply to the PAUSE Program. She was living in a Western non-European country and sent me a very exciting research project widely intersecting with my interest areas. Her residence permit was about to expire in that country and she requested my support, the support of the laboratory to which I am attached, for her application. I readily supported her application and even though her application to the PAUSE Program was rejected, I convinced my institution to open a post-doc fellowship for her. Consequently, she got this fellowship and spent two years in our laboratory. She was always welcomed to the regular meetings of the laboratory and every colleague on my team invited her at least one time to his or her home for dinner. But she preferred to act on her own behalf. She was generally absent from team meetings and laboratory activities. And we learned that she submitted many

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applications for academic positions and fellowships during her stay without giving us any information. For example, as a jury member I was given her application file for a researcher position at CNRS. […] Among my experiences with threatened scholars, her case was quite different. She got her PhD in a Western non-European country, and she hadn’t been in Turkey for 10 years and thus her application to the PAUSE Program was rejected. You know, there is a selection criterion in the PAUSE Program to be in the country where the candidate is at risk in the last 3 years. She was not in such a situation and she was not expelled from her position. I think she was profiting of this to find a position in the academic field in the easiest way (Interviewee 2).

60 As is seen in this case, the victimization of signatories among certain host academics apparently render a strategy of using this victimization process for one’s own benefit possible. This binary representation of host-and-guest and victim-and-savior relationships is, of course, somewhat reductionist; the depiction of this relationship by Interviewee 2 includes certain personal disappointment. A calculative mindset and surrounding actions have not contradicted with academic capitalism for a long time. In an increasingly shrinking job market (particularly in the social sciences and humanities), a scholar well integrated into academic capitalism might evaluate the behavior described by Interviewee 2 as a rational strategy of a signatory academic for survival in this excessively competitive environment, as such a person will have few if any chances to find a position in academia in Turkey18.

61 This kind of survival strategy, however, should not be pursued in a stealthy way, as in the case of the signatory described by Interviewee 2. Interviewee 1 also witnessed the pursuit of similar strategies by threatened scholars. However, perhaps because of her stance being more realist or her expectations of hosted scholars being more moderate, she conceives it as a pragmatic fact that negatively affects scientific production: [These exiled] scholars who are good in a foreign language and familiar with French or international scientific culture must always think about the next step. They, in turn, can’t produce today, because of focusing on new applications to academic positions and/or fellowships to follow the current precarious one. Worrying about tomorrow prevents them from producing sufficiently today (Interviewee 1).

62 In most cases, the “guests” cannot be sufficiently integrated into their host institutions’ scientific activities because of the well-known ephemerality of their current positions.19 Obviously, a savior/victim relationship might lead to the reproduction of victimhood within the context of opportunities designed only for scholars at risk, and because their main requirement of admission is to be a victim and/or to convince the jury of victimhood, these programs served for that purpose. This reproduction process continues during their stays: […] the faculty usually approached the idea of hosting exiled scholars in their institution from an ideological point of view. Perhaps this is a big mistake. When you approach the case in this way, you don’t consider the person you have employed as your peer. This seems to me rather a humanitarian and a solidarity behavior (Interviewee 1).

63 The only way out of this swirl of victimhood seems to be employment by an academic institution through the signing of a standard labor contract. In this context, a case mentioned by Interviewee 1 is significant: For example, we applied to the PAUSE Program for an expelled and persecuted colleague from Turkey, but due to citizenship status our application was rejected. In fact, he was a person really in need, and so we tried every way to ensure that he got a lecturer position with a renewable contract. Since then, this colleague has taught

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at our university and I can say he became completely integrated into the institution, because he was employed with ‘normal’ employee status. However, this is not the case for other scholars hosted through the PAUSE Program (Interviewee 1).

64 Later in the interview, she explained that this social scientist received his PhD in France, and even though he is more integrated into French academia, he may earn quite less than a PAUSE fellow. However, even with his insufficient income, his employment status still provides him the liberty of not pursuing subsequent fellowships and not becoming an “academic nomad.”

65 Drawing from Robert Castel’s works on disaffiliation (Castel, 2003, 2016)20, one can say that employment under a precarious academic labor contract, does not fully involve him or her in the zone of integration. Nevertheless, being part of a faculty community no doubt provides better prospects of tenure track position. But for the majority of exiled scholars this is not the case. Their fellowship salaries designed for “victim academics” puts them temporarily into the zone of assistance, and after the fellowship expiration date, at the doorstep of the zone of disaffiliation.

66 Apart from PAUSE fellows who are currently teaching or taking part in joint research projects in France, the majority of exiled signatory scholars are, according to the interviewees, far from being integrated into the academic field: PAUSE fellow PhD students tried to complete their graduate program. Their working order is different. But when PhD holder PAUSE fellow scholars are at stake, I can say that if one is not very ambitious, integration is almost impossible. Rather than working with us as workmates, they are usually stuck in a category of people to whom we are providing humanitarian support (Interviewee 1).

67 One obstacle before this group is language and another is their scientific discipline. French is not a foreign language widely learned in Turkey and, when an exiled scholar arrives in France through the PAUSE Program without sufficient French knowledge, in most cases he or she cannot attend the scientific activities held at his or her host institution. As for PhD students, if they are not enrolled in an Anglophone department, they have to spend the first couple of years of their fellowship learning French. All the same, PhD students are relatively more motivated to learn French in order to successfully complete their graduate studies. For an exiled non-Francophone senior scholar or PhD holder, the situation is much glummer, particularly if this person is specialized in the social sciences or humanities. If a social scientist or humanist does not have a graduate degree from France or another Western country and is not fluent in at least one foreign language, he or she has very little, if any, chance to continue his or her academic career abroad. Indeed, as most of the young holders of French PhDs among social scientists and humanists have struggled over the years to find tenure track positions in the increasingly shrinking academic “job market,” there are obviously very few if any factors to generate motivation for them in the given situation.

68 Our interviewees clearly did not fit the “humanitarian but indifferent “host” scholar profile and they tried to help exiled signatories integrate into the academic environment during their stays. However, this still seemingly caused an uneven assister/assisted relationship and related complications. Their attempts to guide visiting scholars have, in fact, been rejected in most cases: We hosted a lot of exiled scholars, not only from Turkey, but also from Syria, from Yemen, and from various war territories. Among them, only those who had a graduate degree from France in the past could be integrated into French academia,

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because those people can be included into the network. But for the rest, our attempts give no results. For example, we have weekly research seminars that I’m running in our laboratory. Nobody among them came, including those from my discipline. I mean, a small number of exiled scholars may be involved in scientific activities, but the majority has no ambition to be integrated (Interviewee 1).

69 The interviewees explain this reluctance of exiled scholars with either cultural factors or psychological ones: It creates a cultural shock for those who have been abroad for the first time. They were like fish out of water. They got into a panic. Normally, they frequently applied to us to ask for support, especially about red tape. However, I noticed that when we gave some long-term advice to them, beyond their primary concerns, it backfired. They were perceiving our advice as criticism and they showed an attitude of ‘who the hell are you to counsel me’ (Interviewee 2).

70 Such resistance by exiled scholars is particularly revealed when professional and academic issues come into question. The “assister” scholars apparently try to give them advices about the functioning of academic life in French universities and the modus operandi for surviving there, but these attempts generally come to nothing. The other interviewee interpreted the disengagement of exiled scholars in light of their trauma brought from Turkey: I attribute this attitude to the trauma they experienced in their countries and their alienation from academia. […] I think this is the main question: ‘why did all of this happen to us and we got into this situation?’ I observe that the impacts of this trauma are bigger for those who come from disadvantaged backgrounds. These people were probably alone in terms of academic achievement in their families, and even further, they became professors. And after the purge, they lost everything. The suffering of this category is harder (Interviewee 1).

71 But such observations do not take into account the probability that the disengagement of exiled scholars might be related to their unwillingness to be part of academic capitalism, in which, apparently, they have very few chances to succeed. Indeed, in spite of the steps made by AKP governments towards neoliberalization of universities over the last two decades in Turkey, it was always possible to find certain niches free of academic capitalism, which historically have come to be irritating splinters for both authoritarian and neoliberal executives of higher education, and most of the signatory academics were expelled from those niches.

72 While the PAUSE Program’s mission has been determined, at least on paper, to expedite “the hosting of scientists from crisis zones for sufficiently long periods to enable them to integrate and to ensure continuity in their research,” only a small minority of exiled scholars have been capable of moving in this direction. Consequently, according to the interviewees, the outcome of this program is “a total washout.” (Interviewee I) Some of those who cannot or do not want to return to Turkey are busy seeking ways of staying in France, or another Western country, even outside of academia: They are apparently staying here for two years just to pass the time and learn French. After that, instead of returning back to academia, some of them are saying they would prefer becoming a driving teacher or opening a restaurant (Interviewee 1).

73 Some others see the PAUSE Program as an opportunity to catch their breath, away from where they have been persecuted: I observe that most of the signatories who come to Western countries via PAUSE- like programs have no conclusive goal of settling there. They are never burning

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their bridges with Turkey. I think that their priority is always to wait for the persecution process to be over and then return (Interviewee 2).

74 The scarcity of stable long-term positions that could ensure integration in Western academia, especially for social science and humanities scholars, increases the inclination to return home, especially for exiled academics from Turkey, whose conditions are different compared to the conditions of war zones or those who fled from Nazism nearly 90 years ago. Today’s exiled academics from Turkey have fled the risk of “civic death” rather than physical death or incarceration; this particular risk aims to confine them in the zone of disaffiliation, namely in a condition of being excluded from both work and socialization in their country. As a discontinuous state of being disconnected from “their roots, their land, their past” (Said 2013: 140) and, more importantly, from their “social ties” (Arendt 1994:116), the exile condition, which is growing harder for social scientists and humanists in neoliberal times due to the recession of the job market as well as average salaries, does not guarantee an escape from the zone of disaffiliation in the country of settlement. It always keeps open the possibility of turning back if there is no risk of physical persecution in the country of origin. For governments, the tendency of exiled social science and humanities scholars to return their countries of origin does not apparently represent a failure. Moreover, despite the very low rates in exiled scholars’ academic integration at the end of their stay, taking into account the political benefits of such humanitarian programs, their outcomes might be counted in the success ratio of countries with an “imperial university” perspective.

The “New” University in Exile under Academic Capitalism

75 The New University in Exile Consortium (NUIEC) was launched in September 2018 in New York City by the New School, which organized, convened, and provided the administrative base for the initiative. At the outset, the Consortium was a group of 10 US universities and colleges and has since expanded to a group of 23 higher education institutions in the US, Germany, Jordan and South Africa. Those familiar with the history of the New School will remember how the institution’s first president Alvin Johnson opened the first University in Exile in 1933. An economist and journalist, Johnson was one of the founders of the New School in 1919. Later, when Hitler rose to power, he persuaded the institution’s trustees to let him provide a safe-haven for refugee scholars fleeing Nazi Germany by creating a graduate school of social sciences. Below we will compare the “original” and “new” experiences of the University in Exile, taking into account the historical contexts from within they emerged. First, however, it will be useful to look broadly at the differences between the NUIEC and other existing programs designed to assist threatened scholars, including the PAUSE Program in France.

76 The scholar rescue organizations that have been working since the late 1990s prioritize finding host institutions for such scholars; some of them also make partial contributions to the host institutions’ budget for those scholars. On the other hand, the NUIEC prioritizes socially, intellectually, and financially supporting scholars, over the course of their stay. In other words, while programs such as Scholars at Risk, the Scholar Rescue Fund, CARA, and PAUSE focus mainly on facilitating the “rescue” process for threatened scholars, the NUIEC’s aim is to reduce difficulties these scholars face during their exile. In light of Robert Castel’s aforementioned work, this approach

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appears to be oriented towards minimizing the risk of falling into the zone of disaffiliation for exiled scholars in their countries of settlement.

77 The source of much of the information that I rely on here is based on an interview with the Albert and Monette Marrow Professor of Psychology Arien Mack at The New School for Social Research. Arien Mack has been a member of the graduate faculty since 1966 and has served as the editor of Social Research since 1970, a social sciences journal that first appeared in 1934, mainly with contributions from the faculty of the University in Exile. Mack elaborated substantially on the project of renewing the University in Exile in the face of burgeoning new authoritarianism of the 21st century: I created the Journal Donation Project in 1990 with the fall of the Berlin Wall. Its initial aim was to provide free largely social science journal subscriptions to university libraires in the former Soviet Union countries which, because of censorship, for the past 45 years. had not be able to obtain them. As it expanded the project provided hundreds of subscriptions to academic journals, first in the former Soviet Union countries and in Central European ones, like Hungary, Poland, and Czechoslovakia. And then we gradually extended the project to Central Asia, to, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Kirgizstan and even to Turkmenistan and to sub-Saharan Africa, primarily to Ghana and Nigeria. It became a hugely effective library assistance program.

78 The impetus to start the New University in Exile was the imprisonment of Arien Mack’s friend and colleague Kian Tajbakhsh, an urban planner who was twice imprisoned in Tehran, Iran. Mack launched a campaign to free him in 2009 (“Free Kian ’09 - Campaign to Release Dr. Kian Tajbakhsh from detention” 2009). It was this experience, which led her to believe that the New School, a historical safe harbor for endangered scholars, needed to be revisited: I wanted to do something durable and then I met the chairman of the Board of Scholar Rescue Fund which in 2009 led me to raise the money to bring an endangered scholar to the New School every year. The first scholar was an Ethiopian activist and economist. We hosted scholars for 8 years and I became convinced that we needed to do more which was the origin of the Consortium. I convened a series of meeting, with my colleagues, Professors Elzbieta Matynia and Richard Bernstein and others outside the New School who worked with endangered scholars to talk about how we could create a New University in Exile. I firmly believed the New School and in fact all universities committed to academic freedom and human rights were morally obligated to protect threatened scholars. (interview with Arien Mack).

79 However, first attempts of Arien Mack to resurrect the legacy of the University in Exile had not become a high priority at the New School. After David E. Van Zandt became president in 2010, the university launched a major “rebranding” campaign that stressed the “new” in the New School’s name. As Judith Friedlander notes in A Light in Dark Times, by 2018, the New School now billed itself as a school of design with a social purpose, shifting the focus of the institution away from its historic place among institutions of higher learning as a champion of academic freedom and human rights, and towards the prominent role Parsons School of Design had been playing for decades as the financial mainstay of the university (Friedlander 2019: 350).

80 Arien Mack’s new initiative may not have advanced Van Zandt’s dream of making the New School more competitive in the global academic market, but it did attract the enthusiastic attention of many in the wider intellectual community: In 2016 when the UN organized a large program on the refugee crisis, the President of Columbia University at the suggestion of the then Ambassador to the UN,

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Samantha Power, organized a public meeting about helping endangered academics to which I was invited. It was around the time of that meeting, encouraged by the President of Columbia who was very supportive of the idea, that I decided to move ahead with trying to create a New University in Exile Consortium. I did this by writing to presidents of US universities inviting them to join us in working to form a community for hosted exiled, endangered scholars Columbia was one of the first universities to join followed by Yale, Brown, and Georgetown and others (interview with Arien Mack).

81 The fact that Columbia University stepped forward right away to endorse Mack’s idea adds a lovely note of irony. Although individual members of this leading academic institution had previously welcomed the newly arrived refugee scholars to the original University in Exile in 1933, Columbia has a long and complicated institutional history with the New School for Social Research that dates back to the New School’s origins, in the days following the end of World War I.

82 The New School was founded in 1919 as an act of protest against the leadership of Columbia University by a group of progressive intellectuals. Charles A. Beard and James Harvey Robinson, distinguished members of Columbia’s faculty, had resigned from the university nearly two years before, after the trustees fired two pacifist professors for defying Columbia’s president, Nicholas Murray Butler, who had warned that there would be no tolerance for anyone on the faculty or student body that persisted in campaigning against taking up arms once the United States had entered the Great War.

83 Neither Beard, nor Robinson was a pacifist. On the contrary, they strongly supported America’s decision to join the war, but they fiercely defended academic freedom and therefore their colleagues’ right to voice their opinions. Beard and Robinson proudly walked away from New York’s most renowned academic institution and, together with other leading intellectuals of the day, set out to establish a liberal and progressive academic institution. They called their new educational venture the New School for Social Research (Friedlander 2019: 3-4).

84 As noted above, Alvin Johnson was among the founders of the New School for Social Research. By 1922, Beard, Robinson, and many other major figures on the faculty had given up on the project, leaving the fate of the institution in Johnson’s hands. Within a couple of years, Johnson had turned the New School into the nation’s preeminent school of continuing education for adult students, most of whom had college degrees. As Johnson liked to put it, the New School offered a program for “the continuing education of the educated.” After his School of Continuing Education began to take off, he dreamed of creating a more serious research program in the social sciences, but the New School could not afford it. Then, in 1933, Hitler rose to power and an extraordinary group of scholars were ousted from their universities in Germany. Not only were these professors desperately looking for work but also, perhaps more importantly, they wanted to leave Germany as soon as possible. In that context, Johnson could open the University in Exile, eventually providing a safe haven for nearly 200 refugee scholars, artists, intellectuals, and their families within the New School.

85 From the very beginning, IIE and Rockefeller Foundation tried to persuade Johnson to disband the University in Exile and pool the funds he was raising with theirs, but to no avail: They didn’t want Johnson competing with them by creating a University in Exile. Their model, they thought, had the potential of helping many more refugee

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scholars than his and in many more fields of inquiry, across all the disciplines. They were not limiting themselves to the social sciences. But Johnson refused to do so. While he was happy to help them find places for refugees in other universities, he continued recruiting faculty to his University in Exile as well. What the IIE and Rockefeller had not anticipated was that other universities would not open their doors – at least not widely enough. In the end, Johnson alone welcomed more scholars at the New School than did all the other American universities combined. (Written interview with Judith Friedlander).

86 Without diminishing the accomplishments of the IIE, Rockefeller and the New School, we must also acknowledge the fact that these institutions did not try to save every scholar who was in need of assistance. They limited their efforts to leading figures in their academic fields. Admittedly they did not have the funds to save everyone, but the reality is also sobering: “The bar was very high. Many were passed over for not being distinguished or famous enough. Others for being too old. What do we know about the scholars who did not receive invitations? In Well Worth Saving (2019) Laurel Leff tells the story of the many other professors and researchers whose applications were rejected.” (Written interview with Judith Friedlander).

87 Interestingly, the initial doubtful positioning of these scholar rescue organizations vis- à-vis the “University in Exile” idea resurfaced 85 years later, when the NUIE Consortium project was proposed to and, once again discouraged by the IIE.

88 What is most interesting here, however, is the sharp contrast between the attitudes of the two New School presidents 85 years apart from each other. Though it would be wrong to neglect the ideological engagements and personality differences of the two presidents, the major determinants in this opposition are seemingly the contexts to which they have had to adapt. Unlike today, in the first half of the 20th century, especially in the US, social sciences were regarded necessary and important. Judith Friedlander touches on the specificities of this context in which the New University in Exile was founded as follows: Americans have never respected intellectuals – something Tocqueville noted in the 1830s – at least not to the same extent as the French and other Europeans. That said, there have always been influential circles of intellectuals in the U.S. And New York has served as an important center of intellectual life since the 18th century, as Thomas Bender demonstrates in his wonderful book The New York Intellect. […] The social sciences took root in the U.S. during the last quarter of the 19th century, but mostly at the graduate level. They became more important in the curriculum for liberal arts students after the crash of 1929 and the rise of fascism in Europe. […] The founding faculty of the New School were for the most part, social scientists with a strong interest in economics – even the historian Charles Beard focused on economic history. […] The founders were so committed to offering courses in economics that they almost drove the New School into bankruptcy. Although the founding faculty had difficulty accepting it, adult students in New York during the 1920s weren’t interested in studying economics. They wanted to learn about psychoanalysis and the arts. This lack of interest changed with the economic collapse of 1929, at which point adult students clamored for courses on economics, politics and society (written interview with Judith Friedlander).

89 In today’s universities that have been deeply embedded in the neoliberal modes of governance, the social sciences and humanities – except for a limited number of social science departments focused primarily on practical professional training – no longer represent a center of attraction. Additionally, the rescue action’s trajectory today does no longer occur between countries with equally developed academic settings in social

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science fields, or from more developed countries to less developed ones, as was the case in the 1930s. On the other hand, due to the ‘inflation’ of humanitarian rescue programs, the bar of selection for rescued scholars is lower than it was 85 years ago. Hence, the number of exiled scholars has boomed, too. Finally, the growing academic migration following the globalization trends in the 1990s has already responded to the “need for diversity” in faculty ranks. In such a context, the outcome of the NUIEC venture is seemingly better than that of the PAUSE Program with respect to keeping exiled scholars in the zone of assistance and as distant as possible from the zone of disaffiliation. However, despite the efforts of its initiators and animators, it cannot provide them secure employment opportunities, as Alvin Johnson and other rescue organizations were able to do in the 1930s and 1940s. Arien Mack describes the growing difficulties that NUIE fellow scholars are encountering with these words: In the United States, there are too many PhDs for very few positions. Our newly minted PhDs end up have great difficulty finding tenure track-positions and often frequently end up doing underpaid adjunct faculty work. Unfortunately, the exiled scholars must compete with these young American scholars. So, do I know the solution? No. all we can do is help and do what we can (interview with Arien Mack).

90 Referring to Loïc Wacquant’s centaur state analogy21 to describe the neoliberal state, one can say that rescue actions for threatened the social science and humanities scholars, particularly in the case of AfP, generally lead to nothing but migration of the persecuted scholars from the authoritarian paternalistic body of the centaur state towards its liberal head. In other words, the persecuted signatory social science and humanities scholars in exile still cannot overcome the risk of unemployment and disaffiliation. With a vulture academic capitalism and a shrinking job market especially in social sciences and humanities, the academia of the U.S. has already been based on an apartheid-like functioning to the detriment of adjunct faculty, of which the percentage amounted to 73% in 2016. In the current academic stratification, the newcomer refugee scholars share inevitably the bottom rang with the young American adjunct faculty, in addition they also have to face the challenges of being in exile.

91 The NUIE Consortium is committed to provide a community for endangered scholars. Through weekly online seminars, wherein the persecuted scholars deliberate on the subjects of exile, authoritarianism, or racism, the NUIEC also shows its dedication to create a fruitful intellectual environment for exiled scholars. However, despite the support of the NUIEC community, only those who already had, or are currently enrolled in, PhDs from prestigious American universities, have had a chance to compete for full-time academic positions in exile. For the rest, who are partially in the zone of assistance today, prospects of integration are not so different from those of the PAUSE fellows in France.

92 A third venture outside of Turkey that this paper examines is Off-University, an organization with the goal of establishing a relationship with persecuted scholars beyond rescue actions or exile conditions.

Off-University: A Tool for In Situ Resistance to Academic Repression

93 Off-University was founded in 2017 by a group of persecuted signatory academics, who had left Turkey in the beginning of the purge and settled in Germany. The venture aims to create “new strategies to uphold and sustain academic life and knowledge threatened by anti-democratic and authoritarian regimes” (“Off-University - About Us”

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2017). After being established as a charitable organization according to German law, in October 2017, Off-University had its inauguration with an online conference entitled “Tough Questions about Peace.” Since then, it has offered a distance learning program to meet the needs of “people from all parts of the world who have been forced to give up their work, research or studies due to war or political persecution” (“Off-University - About Us” 2017). The functioning of the organization can be portrayed as follows: first, candidates apply with their course proposals to Off-University. Then, the university sends these proposals to higher education institutions, which admitted hosting the courses and to issue participation certificates for students. Following that, in the third step, Off-University undertakes the task of anonymously enrolling students to these courses through a secure online platform and compensates the teaching labor of hosted scholars with a living wage. Thus, once their course proposal is accepted, regardless of his or her country of settlement, a persecuted jobless scholar can earn an income by teaching. This venture, which was Turkey-centered in terms of the nationality of applicants in the first two years, has gradually become more international. However, this process of internationalization has not equally affected and transformed the social sciences and humanities-centered curricula, which is already fragile and precarious in the face of contemporary conflicts of the faculties under neoliberal authoritarianism.

94 Unlike the rescue organizations concentrated on propagating and reproducing an unequal “savior-victim” relationship and a discourse of “victimhood,” Off-University was established by persecuted and mostly exiled signatory scholars for those who are trapped in Turkey as much as for themselves; some of the initiators of Off-University face the risk of losing their current positions or residence permits in Germany in the near future. In this respect, “solidarity” carries more weight in the vocabulary of this initiative compared to terms like “help,” “assist,” or “rescue.” Furthermore, the dynamic of reciprocity between those who teach (persecuted academics) and those who render possible and/or mediate for the secure and fair conduct of this opportunity can hardly translate into a “patronage” relationship between parties.

95 Julia Strutz, a human geographer, who received her PhD in 2009 with a thesis on 19th century Istanbul and currently a postdoctoral researcher in urbanism at LMU Munich University, described the founding process of the venture as one of the initiators of Off- University: The idea of creating an initiative for showing a concrete solidarity with persecuted colleagues in Turkey came out while we were talking among us as signatory academics already moved to Berlin. The gist was to open online courses through which our colleagues who fell out of work due to the academic repression might earn income by teaching. In other words, the quest of finding a solution to a specific problem pushed us to develop this idea. As you know, academics who were purged with executive decrees have had no right neither to work in Turkey nor to leave it because of the restriction over their passports. The specific problem to which we were trying to find solutions was this. Of course, we thought also if a good thing might come out of this disaster and if this might create an opportunity to meet again with students. In this process Berlin was important because a lot of persecuted signatory academics had already come to this city. But as the developers of this idea, we knew each other from İstanbul (interview with Julia Strutz).

96 The home for the startup of this venture, as Strutz highlighted, was Berlin. The city has apparently been the most attractive for intellectuals, who have fled Turkey due to political repression since the mid-2010s. In a report published by Timo Lehmann in

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Süddeutsche Zeitung, the attractiveness of Berlin for exiled intellectuals from Turkey was depicted as follows: The exiles are talking about a ‘New Wave’ of Turkish immigrants coming to Germany. Though some have gone to Paris, London and New York, Berlin offers the best conditions for most of them: an international scene, affordable rents, an already-existing Turkish cultural life, one to which they can connect” (Lehmann 2017).

97 Moving to a new city in a foreign country, where there is already a rich cultural life familiar with exiled scholars, most certainly reduces the risk of falling into the zone of disaffiliation. However, besides Berlin’s/Germany’s extensive social opportunities particularly for those who fled from Turkey, there are other factors that have influenced threatened scholars’ choice of coming here, that is, the country’s will and capacity of hosting scholars. First of all, Germany is the country with the highest rates of academic staff employment in Europe. According to Eurostat’s Tertiary Education Statistics, in 2017, Germany’s teaching staff numbered 407,100 while that of France was 128,200 (Eurostat 2019); in other words, the numbers of academic employment in Germany was nearly threefold of its French counterpart, while the population of Germany was only 1.2 times larger than that of France. Secondly, Germany was one of the countries that demonstrated the most proactive attitudes regarding the academic purge in Turkey. The swift establishment of the Philipp Schwartz Initiative is concrete evidence of this attitude. The choice of names for this initiative is also important and deserves to be briefly touched upon. Philipp Schwartz was a Hungarian-born Jewish pathologist from Frankfurt, who “had been accused of communist activities following the Nazi seizure of power and suspended from his university” (Ege; Hagemann 2012: 955). He then moved to Switzerland, where in 1933 he established the Emergency Assistance Organization for German Scientists Abroad (Notgemeinschaft Deutscher Wissenschaftler im Ausland). During his work within the framework of this organization, he met Albert Malche, who had already prepared a report about the Turkish higher education system (specifically about the Darülfünun) and presented it to the Turkish government in June 1932. This report provided a basis for university reform, which in turn, as previously mentioned, provided a basis for the first academic purge in Turkey. Thus, Philipp Schwartz played a key role as a mediator between persecuted academics from Germany, Austria, and Czechoslovakia and the Turkish government, About one hundred scholars purged from their universities by Nazis and pro-Nazis, including Schwartz himself, were employed at İstanbul University, an institution which, as a twist of fate, was once the home for another some hundred purged scholars from the closed Darülfünun, but became increasingly nationalist in the 1930s. Both Philipp Schwartz’s memories and İzzet Behar’s examination of the correspondence between İsmet İnönü, the Turkish prime minister of the time, and Albert Einstein concludes that in the recruitment of persecuted (mostly Jewish) scholars, the Turkish raison d’état was always in the foreground for the Turkish government rather than humanitarian motives (Bahar 2012: 97). As for the Turkish counterparts of these exiled scholars in İstanbul, they were not always hospitable to their new colleagues, who were earning four times more than them and, additionally, were assigned an assistant, something that the Turkish scholars had never had (Reisman 2007: 472). In the second half of the 2010s, the German government’s choice of Philipp Schwartz’s name for a fellowship to host threatened scholars, initially including persecuted scholars from Turkey, was significant because of this historical background. Of course, the raison d’état in the

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background of this choice was not the same as that of the Turkish government in the 1930s. Chatterjee and Maira’s (2014) previously mentioned “imperial university” approach seems to be more applicable in understanding the current German government’s strategy. On the other hand, the eligibility criteria of the Philipp Schwartz Initiative’s fully funded 24-month research fellowships are substantially aligned with the German higher education’s funding model based on a certain “excellence strategy” in force since the second part of the 2000s. That is to say, the selection among the candidates, who must be under threat, is made according to the candidate’s language skills, academic qualifications, potential to be integrated into the research-related job market, etc. (see “About the Foundation” 2016).

98 In such a competitive context, Julia Strutz highlights two important lines of tension surfacing among exiled academics in Germany. One of them is the tension occurring among the persecuted academics for access to funding opportunities, while the other arises between exiled scholars with long-term research fellowships and young German scholars with neither a tenure track position nor a long-term job contract: In the two first years, almost all our activities were Turkey-focused. And [this is still the case]. The 95% of active members of the association are from Turkey. But we have started to be transformed. On the one hand, those who came to Germany from Turkey have today more opportunities to be included into other networks. And we want also Off-University not to be a Turkey-focused venture. On the other hand, in Berlin there is an increasing competition between immigrant groups. This is a disgusting thing. If you don’t work, for example, with a Syrian exiled scholar, you are automatically a Turkish nationalist. Thus, we are making a lot of effort to work with other immigrant scholar groups. […] Academics under risk who come to Germany with a research fellowship have two-plus-one-year contract. Any German PhD holder scholar specialized on the same topic cannot find an employment opportunity of three years. They are working in the same department. And they might have a silly competition between them. According to current statistics, only 4% of finished PhDs succeed in finding a permanent job in academia. For a while we started to discuss between us whether we, as scholars under risk, are deepening or not the existing competition in the academic field because we are a cheap labor force. We can teach using our academic titles as professor, associate professor, etc. We have already had experience of teaching. We are interrogating whether, by teaching, we are making way for reducing young PhDs’ chance of competing in the academic job market, or not. These questions are largely discussed between experienced scholars who came from Turkey (interview with Julia Strutz).

99 Strutz’s observations about the aggravated competitiveness among different exiled scholar groups, also between exiled scholars as a whole and job-seeking young German academics, are interesting in the context of this investigation. In the more neoliberal funding model of higher education based on “competitive research grants” to the detriment of “government core funding” (see Jongbloed 2010), entities in the academic field (i.e. universities, academic personnel, or students) behave in a more competitive spirit. This education and research-funding model, which legitimates itself through a discourse of “excellence” as a component of neoliberal meritocracy, equally applies to fellowships for threatened scholars, apparently feeding a competitive behavior among candidates. On the other hand, the increase in the number of this kind of fellowships that grounds its inclusion criteria upon the material risks of political persecution and warfare is accompanied by a sentiment of injustice among some adjunct faculty and precarious researchers, who have already been subjected to “academic apartheid” (DeSantis 2011) and a growing social isolation and alienation risk. The victimization of

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fellowship-holding exiled scholars might be seen, at least for some precarious “native” academics, as a coping mechanism so as to minimize their feelings of injustice. In such a brutally competitive context, as in the case described above of the PAUSE Program applicant from a Western non-European country, we also witness the emergence of some exiled scholars, who are at risk on paper for remotely being part of persecuted groups but physically do live abroad, away from the immediate risk of persecution, taking advantage of these fellowships to find relatively long-term jobs. At the same time, we are witnessing the existence of some “native” precarious scholars, who are apparently suspicious about the risk evaluation model of these fellowship programs and, more broadly, are suspicious about the definition of “risk” as a whole.

100 The difficulty about defining “risk” is equally underlined by Julia Strutz: We can assess applications from Turkey for teaching at Off-University in respect to the risk. But when it comes to other countries, we have no such a capability. Suppose that there is a candidate from Poland, that is to say from the European Union’s member country, who is studying gender studies. However, he or she currently has a position in a university in Poland. That is to say he or she is not currently jobless. On the other hand, he or she has been exposed to an investigation about his or her teaching/research activities or political activities but the investigation has been closed. What can we say about whether this person is under risk or not? […] Such cases are very complex. Additionally, the risk issue is a very personal thing (interview with Julia Strutz).

101 Julia Strutz says that Off-University tries to resolve this question by defining two relatively measurable criteria for applications: being jobless and being under persecution. However, if there are hundreds of scholars in a similar situation, at least on paper, as in the case of the AfP, assessing applications in terms of risk grows more and more difficult: The most galling thing for me, particularly during the applications, is the efforts of some candidates to pull some strings. ‘He or she is very needy, is in an awkward situation’ and such like… It is very annoying. Because they put me in a difficult position. Anyway, I’m not the person to select the courses. On the other hand, I am also aware that this manner is a part of dominant academic culture. Even so, I’m finding it disgraceful (interview with Julia Strutz).

102 It is not surprising to hear that in the market-like competitive academic field, networking activities – based largely on professional connections, but also on activist ones – represent a tool for creating differences between persecuted academics to access some positions and fellowships. Within this category, it is not hard to guess that being in one’s early career–a weakness in terms of professional networking capacity and being relatively isolated from activist circles – a weakness in terms of activism-based networking capacity – would diminish one’s chances to succeed in getting certain fellowships.

103 In the case of the signatory academics, these inequalities prevailed since the persecution process first began. As Aslı Odman underlines, “The price of being a signatory of the peace petition has been unequally distributed among signatories through class and status cleavages. Even though the efforts of solidarity groups among signatories for creating networks in order to provide some material, moral and mobility supports to share out the burden of this price have…somewhat succeeded, these did not change radically this situation based on structural inequalities” (Odman 2018).

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104 The two requirements of being jobless and being under persecution that Off-University makes obligatory for submitting course proposals do not guarantee that class or status inequalities will be overcome among signatories; in fact, the course proposals selected by academic organizations were generally taught by relatively senior persecuted academics with a considerable amount of international academic experience. On the other hand, among junior scholars at risk, having his or her PhD from the U.S. seems equally to be an asset in this increasingly excellence-based competitive atmosphere. In Germany, we are witnessing that academic institutions want to pick up signatory candidates having got their PhD degrees from the US. Because in Germany, like in Turkey, a PhD from the US is an appreciated thing. And there are a lot of young graduate students from Turkey who had signed the petition while doing their PhD in the US. Usually there is neither investigation nor prosecution against them. But they are nevertheless signatories. Are these people under risk, really? Actually, these people might also be considered as academic job seekers who could not find employment opportunity in the US. It is a debating subject between us (interview with Julia Strutz).

105 Excellence and risk are two key criteria for selecting endangered scholars to be funded, and the former apparently preponderates over the latter. However, as it is mentioned before, in the 1930s the situation was not so different regarding the prioritization of excellence. The academic job market was significantly smaller and, consequently, only a few renowned rescued scholars could find tenured positions in their settlement countries. But unlike the 1930s, risk, which is a subjective construction, has become ubiquitous in today’s society and academia, and this renders risk evaluations more complex and disputable.

106 Even so, ventures launched and run by academics themselves, such as Off-University and the New University in Exile Consortium, can create cooperative relationships with each other more easily than more professionalized and institutionalized rescue organizations, which are managed according to business principles or bureaucratic administration models. One cannot create a dynamic human relationship with employees of these latter organizations, either because they are frequently changing due to the apparently precarious working conditions or because they adopt the principle of not establishing personal relations with their scholarship holders. In contrast, academic-led ventures are always in close – and most often friendly – contact with fellow scholars, which lets them evolve in a dynamic and interactive way. If academic resistance means not buckling under the current state and market authoritarianism targeting predominantly social science and humanities scholars, then creating and running such ventures might be considered as examples par excellence of academic resistance: We have a couple of professors with whom we have worked for a while. We are, so to say, employers of them. They can continue their academic works through teaching at the Off-University. There are three or four academics who are teaching continuously. But by now at least 20 persecuted academics have taught across one or two semesters. It is not merely an issue about earning money. They can keep in touch with students, they can complete their courses which were unachieved because of the academic purge. I think it is the best side of this matter (interview with Julia Strutz).

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Conclusion

107 The case of the AfP represents a continuum in the history of higher education in modern Turkey, which has been rich in academic purges. Almost without exception, each change in the capital accumulation regime and simultaneously in political power led to an academic purge. However, the case of the AfP, as an episode in the most sweeping academic purge in the country’s history, has some unique characteristics in terms of scope and scale. First of all, this most recent purge aimed to condemn targeted academics to “civic death” as punishment. The rationale underlying this punishment, which shows itself as a tool of necropolitics, is to confine targeted academics in the zone of disaffiliation. On the one hand, it leaves them jobless through executive decrees that make it essentially impossible to find new jobs, while, on the other hand, it breaks the persecuted academics’ ties with society through a mediatic stigmatization campaign accompanied by criminal proceedings and wiping out their basic rights to express themselves in the public sphere. Secondly, the recent purge of the AfP, which was different in many ways from that of Gülenists, has manifested itself as a sweeping purge of social scientists and humanists overlapping, in this sense, with the current transformations of higher education and research and of the university itself. Correspondingly, the purge of the AfP makes sense within the ongoing conflicts of faculties under authoritarian neoliberalism.

108 Immanuel Kant penned The Conflict of The Faculties in 1798, in order “to ground a more comprehensive vision of how universities should relate to society and how their component faculties should interact internally” (Schapira 2019: 113). In this text, after having defined the university as an autonomous community of learned people, Kant talks about the conflict between the higher faculties (theology, law, and medicine, the subjects of which are respectively the spiritual, civil, and physical well-being of people, thus making them practically useful for any government) and the lower faculties (mainly philosophy, but equally including all natural and social sciences with subjects of the pursuit of truth and its defense, both in the university and in society, at the cost of going against the powerful and the majority). Without denying the practical importance of the higher faculties and the irrevocability of the conflicts inherent to them, Kant advocates the idea that the philosophy faculty, which derives its authority from reason, must be the chief pillar for any university that intends to exist autonomously and to remain relatively sheltered against interventions of governments and other power groups, as much as to prevent society (and itself, as a learned community) from moving away from the pursuit of truth on grounds of personal interests and practical utility. Today, the autonomy of the university as well as the pursuit of truth seems to be more at risk than ever before, just as is the “philosophy faculty” at universities around the world.

109 Authoritarian neoliberalism, predicating that the university as well as the state should be run like a company, correspondingly evaluates the sciences (scientific disciplines) and their staff according to their utility for both the market and the state. Consequently, the authoritarian neoliberal raison d’état considers the defense of the university’s autonomy to be unhelpful, and even harmful, if it does not contribute to national interests. Likewise, market rationality sees the pursuit of truth worthless if it does not create direct added value. Finally, in a context of post-truth politics where emotions and beliefs prevail over factual truths, social scientists and even more so

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humanities scholars become obviously disposable in the eyes of authoritarian governments and university administrations, conquered most often by the higher faculties that, in contrast to the universities of Kant’s era, have been expanded with the participation of market-friendly scientific disciplines, including some categorically put under the label of social sciences.

110 These transformations and their various effects have come to the surface in the case of the AfP. The massive character of this academic purge as well as the vast predominance of social scientists and humanists among the purged signatory academics are evidence of this fact.

111 President Erdoğan’s statements just after the release of the peace petition clearly show the rationale underlying the purge of the AfP: “We face the betrayal of so-called intellectuals who receive their salaries from the state and carry the ID, passport of this state, while holding a higher welfare level comparing to the average of the country” (as cited in Altuntaş 2016). Following this statement, the Turkish state acted like a paternalistic company in defiance of the constitutional rights of signatory academics, firing some of them from both their universities and, by restricting their citizenship rights, from the state, so to speak, which has been for some time rather an enterprise- state (Musso 2019). The arbitrary conduct of the purge by the state, namely the condemnation of more than 500 signatories to “civic death” without touching the rest to the same degree, might be explained by the same transformation. Apparently, the administration of higher education and presidents of universities behaved separately, but in accord with one another regarding private profit and loss accounts. They carried out the purge in a way that would not change Turkey’s universities’ places in international rankings based on essentially quantitative indicators, while at the same time their appeal to various methods of repression and necropolitical violence paralyzed the pursuit of truth by critical social science and humanities scholars. For these reasons, the purge of the AfP should not be considered as separate from the ongoing conflict of the faculties, in which the odds are stacked against the university as we have known it since the Humboldtian revolution.

112 Hundreds of purged signatory social scientists and humanities scholars, who migrated to Western countries with the assistance of humanitarian organizations, have still not liberated themselves from the negative effects of this same conflict. In the scholar- migrant-receiver countries that we have discussed here, namely France, the United States, and Germany, the situation was not always better, especially for those wanting to continue their academic career abroad. In comparison with the academic migration of the 1930s, exiled academics today are not more competent than their counterparts in their countries of settlement, and the existing academic institutions do not have extra demand for newcomer social scientists and humanities scholars. On the contrary, when this last migrant flow occurred, these institutions had already put an adjunct faculty model into place to diminish the cost of education, especially in the social sciences and humanities. As a result, due to the increasingly shrinking employment capacity in these disciplines, only those who have PhDs, previous professional experience abroad, and foreign language fluency, might be relatively – though, in most cases, temporarily – integrated into the teaching and research staff of their host institutions, possibly at the expense of the growing body of “native” adjunct candidates trapped in this precarious situation. However, the great majority of exiled scholars have survived in the zone of vulnerability by means of fellowships designed for threatened scholars, which, by their

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very nature, ensure the reproduction of victimhood. In other words, the work of humanitarian scholar rescue organizations, which are structured as a business model and backed directly or indirectly by states that cherish “imperial university” perspectives, does not generally allow exiled scholars to be integrated into academia in their countries of settlement, but rather to be hosted for a limited period of time abroad in purgatory.

113 In such a context, we are witnessing the emergence of initiatives mainly launched by academics, and usually by social scientists and humanities scholars, who are settled in relatively “free” Western countries, in solidarity with persecuted academics from relatively “authoritarian” parts of the world. Off-University in Germany and the New University in Exile Consortium (NUIEC) in the US, as described in this article, are two examples of this kind of initiatives. The NUIEC is concentrated on assisting exiled scholars and facilitating their integration into academia in the US. However, due to the ongoing conflict of the faculties, in practice, the initiative does not sufficiently prevent them from being drawn into the zone of disaffiliation. Off-University focuses on providing resources and opportunities for persecuted unemployed academics regardless of their physical location. For that purpose, it functions through an online teaching platform through which they can earn money and continue their scientific encounters. In this sense, Off-University prioritizes supporting persecuted academics – at this point, mainly persecuted signatory academics from Turkey – in their own countries, where they are exposed to academic and political repression. Within the context of the ongoing conflict of the faculties, the efforts of this kind of academic-led initiatives should also be considered for the benefit of the social sciences, humanities, and other scientific disciplines, for which the pursuit of truth and the defense of the idea of university have always been top priority.

114 In conclusion, as the case of the AfP shows, attacks by authoritarian governments against critical social science and, humanities scholars, and scientists from various other disciplines, who are committed to the public interest instead of raison d’état or market rationality, cannot be overcome simply by rescuing persecuted academics from their countries. The conflict of the faculties is taking place globally; thus, the success of the resistance in defense of the pursuit of truth and the autonomy of the university seems to depend on a struggle carried out on the same level, in order for the actual defeat of academic capitalism with its ultracompetitive and predatory variances.

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NOTES

1. As Erozan and Turan stated, in 1982, “the military committee […] engaged in a major

F0 F0 reorganization of the university system, […] 5B which 5D would bring the universities under closer scrutiny of the central government and to insure that the universities would no longer function as ‘hotbeds of political radicalism’. A standard organizational model placed all universities under the tutelage of a new central organ named the Higher Education Council” (Erozan ; Turan 2004: 360). The Higher Education Council has always been the major actor of academic repression since then. For a recent work about the effects of the 1983 purge on intellectuals and intellectual life in Turkey, see Ulusoy 2019. 2. Built around the Islamic preacher Fethullah Gülen, the Gülen brotherhood made significant progress following the 1980 coup d’état. Just before the July 15 incident in 2016, the Gülenists were believed to control the state bureaucracy, especially the police, the judiciary, and the army. Their support was of critical importance for the Justice and Development Party (AKP) between 2002 and 2010. For the history of AKP-Gülen Conflict see Taş (2018). 3. There are numerous unclear issues regarding the unfolding of the July 15 incident. The starting time of this “coup attempt” (around 7:30 pm, during Friday evening rush), ‘spectacular’ method they used (sending the military college students with a couple of tanks to the Bosphorus Bridge in order to block the road only one direction), and “amateur” media captured attempts of the putschists are a few to name. What is clear is that the incident -the “coup attempt” and its failure- has distinct political consequences on domestic and foreign policy which are quite obvious: the declaration of the state of emergency on July 20, the meeting between Erdoğan and Putin in St. Petersburg on August 9 while Turkey’s Western allies were keeping their silence about the incident, the military intervention (or invasion) of the Turkish Armed Forces into northeastern Syria on August 24, and the start of a sweeping purge within the state and public institutions. All these consequences strengthen the idea that the “coup attempt” was a premeditated reprisal by a faction within the state against one another, -if it was not a mise-en- scene or a trap- in order to implement a more authoritarian, more Islamo-nationalist and more irredentist regime relatively distanced from the NATO axis. 4. After the publication of the petition (for its content, see: https://barisicinakademisyenler.net/ node/63), for example, the signatory Latife Akyüz, an assistant professor of sociology at Düzce University, was summoned by the local prosecutor simultaneously with the suspension from her position and harassed at home with death threats after a local newspaper published an article calling her a traitor. The case of Ramazan Kurt, a teaching assistant of philosophy at Erzurum Atatürk University, was similar. Almost all signatory academics working at universities located in bastions of conservatism in Turkey had to leave their homes from fear of being exposed to physical violence or even being murdered. In addition to these locally organized attacks, a more centralized one occurred in İstanbul with the imprisonment of four academics, assistant professors Meral Camcı (linguist), Esra Mungan (psychologist), and Muzaffer Kaya (historian) and associate professor Kıvanç Ersoy (mathematician), after they gave a press briefing on March 10, 2016, about the attacks that signatories were exposed to and their determination of not giving up their defense of the petition’s claims.

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5. Based on the persecution of the AfP, 822 signatories were put on trial between October 2017 and July 2019 with the accusation of “making propaganda for a terrorist organization” (For a detailed documentation obout the AfP case, see Acad. Peace - A Case Study Doc. Context. Instrum. Law Turkey, 2020), 6. By the term of “academic purge” I mean the massive expulsion of academics from universities due to their political attitudes (such as signing of a critical petition) or their affiliations (being a member of a dissident trade union or a religious sect) that are disapproved by central government. Even though there is a critical difference in Turkey between dismissals without or with decree laws in terms of loss of rights, the majority of those who were dismissed without decree law has been equally blacklisted and excluded from Turkey’s academia. Thus, this category also needs to be categorized as “purged academics”. 7. When saying “allegedly Gülenist,” I do not include all academics who lost their jobs with the 15 private universities run directly or indirectly by Gülenist circles (all of which were closed) and were afterwards blacklisted, or those who have been accused and purged with the accusation of being Gülenist -and being part of a coup attempt- without any solid evidence. Rather, I mean academics who adopted the faith principles and “career plans” preached by Fethullah Gülen. 8. Even though, centre/periphery distinction is ambiguous because of the spatial and temporal relativity of each signifier, tout de même I found significant to compare three biggest cities (Istanbul, Ankara and İzmir) with the rest of the country regarding the purge statistics, even though there are few exceptional cases in both categories. I made this categorization because Istanbul, Ankara and İzmir are distinguished from the rest of Turkey by their population (more than 31% out of the total population), their GNP share (having a part more than 46% of the gross national product), and the number of universities based in these cities (hosting almost 45% of all universities). 9. Following the July 15 incident, acting or former rectors of Adnan Menderes University, Akdeniz University, Celal Bayar University, Çanakkale Onsekiz Mart University, Dicle University, Dokuz Eylül University, Hacettepe University, Namık Kemal University, Pamukkale University, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan University, Selçuk University, Uşak University, Yalova University, were prosecuted and/or expelled from public service with the accusation of being affiliated to the Gülen Movement. 10. For a more detailed analysis of these “taşra üniversiteleri,” see Şengül (2014) and Özarslan (2019). 11. That is not to say that the exposure to repression of this insignificant minority in terms of quantity was also insignificant in terms of quality. On the contrary, this group generally suffered more from physical and psychological violence (see Diler, 2016). 12. Faculty Member Trainee Program of Higher Education Council remained in force between 2010 and 2016. The rationale of the program was to train in long-established metropolitan universities qualified faculty members for newly-established provincial universities in need of academic staff. 13. The common quality of signatories from hard and natural sciences seems to be either being an engaged scholar in issues like public health or urbanism, or, witnessing closely what really happened during the curfew in Kurdish provinces from July 2015 to December 2016. Even though this group was a minority among signatories, disproportionally with their number, many of them were highly engaged with the solidarity efforts. 14. This question is answered by Barış Ünlü with reference to his own concept of the “Turkishness contract” and the will of signatory academics to violate this contract by signing the petition entitled “We will not be party to this crime!” (see Ünlü 2018). According to Ünlü, simply expressing oneself on this subject against recurring state practices might be considered as a violation of the “contract.” I wish this interpretation were true. However, neither the content of the petition nor the statements of academics before the Court – with a few exceptions – called

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the “Turkishness contract” into question. Rather, the objection to the war and to the violations of human rights in Kurdish provinces as well as the defense of “the pursuit of truth” and “academic freedom” represent the common themes of the vast majority of academics’ statements before the Court. Zerrin Özlem Biner’s assessment seems to me closer to reality: “The act of signing the petition was therefore not about a shared position with regard to the resolution of the Kurdish conflict or about political ideas on co‐existence. It was a collective response to the growing authoritarianism in Turkey, an ethical and political statement voicing the solidarity of academics living predominantly outside the Kurdish region with what we knew to be happening there” (Biner 2019: 21). 15. Seniority, gender, social network capacity, foreign language knowledge, healthiness, wealth, etc. have all had impacts on the ways in which purged academics dealt with the persecution. 16. Piya Chatterjee and Sunaina Maira coined the term “imperial university” as a corollary of imperial and colonial nations’ use of intellectuals and scholarship to legitimize their “exceptionalism” as well as “expansionism” and the crucial importance of the academy’s role in supporting state policies (Chatterjee ; Maira 2014: 6–7). 17. The petition, first announced to the public with 1,128 signatories on January 11, was submitted to Parliament with 2,212 signatures in total (HRFT Academy, 2019). When the petition was first released, 208 signatories of 1,128 (17%) were from universities abroad, and in 10 days that number had rapidly reached 701 of 2,212 (31%). 18. It is known that not many universities in Turkey recruit signatory academics and will only do so if the individuals have not been expelled with executive decree and consequently are not been banned from public service. 19. This situation is qualified by Aslı Vatansever as “a nomadic mode of living” (Vatansever 2018) among those who are not able to return to their own countries or to settle anywhere else. 20. According to Robert Castel, the integration of individuals in a society depends on their positions in relation to two axes: work and sociability. For this approach, only stable work and strong social embeddedness let individuals be well integrated. Being embedded in a certain sociability without work eventually pushes them into the zone of assistance, whereas having precarious work without strong social ties drives them towards the zone of vulnerability. The lack of both work and sociability opens pathways of disaffiliation. 21. Loïc Wacquant coined the concept of “centaur state” to show how neoliberalism, as an ideological and political program aiming to create optimal conditions for the further accumulation of capital, and to discipline people in lower positions, combines “liberalism at the top of class structure, and punitive paternalism at the bottom” (Wacquant 2012).

AUTHOR

CEM ÖZATALAY

Associate Professor in the Sociology Department at Galatasaray University [email protected]

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Sümbül Kaya’nın Emine Sevim ve BIRARADA derneğiyle röportajı

Emine Sevim and Sümbül Kaya

Bilim, Sanat, Eğitim, Araştırma ve Dayanışma Derneği (BİRARADA), toplum ve doğa yararına eğitim ve araştırma faaliyetleri yürütmek, sanatsal ve kültürel etkinlikler gerçekleştirmek, yürütülmekte olan etkinlikleri desteklemek, benzer amaçlara sahip kişi ve kurumlarla dayanışmak ve var olan dayanışmayı güçlendirmek amacıyla kuruldu. Cinsiyete ve cinsel yönelime dayalı, etnik, sınıfsal, inançsal, yaşla ve engellilikle ilgili her türlü ayrımcılığı ve şiddeti reddediyor. Laik, eşitlikçi, özgürlükçü değerler ve bilimin evrensel ilkeleri doğrultusunda eleştirel bilgi üretimini, bilgiye kolay ve eşit olanaklarla erişimi destekliyor ve akademik özgürlüklerin her koşulda korunmasını amaçlıyor1.

1 Sümbül Kaya: Fransa’da şu anda emeklilik planına, 2019 sonbaharında kabul edilen işsizlik sigortası reformuna ve Çok Yıllı Araştırma Programlama Yasası (LPPR) kapsamında getirilen önerilere karşı protesto amaçlı geniş çaplı bir hareketlilik olduğunu takip ediyorsunuzdur. European Journal of Turkish Studies (EJTS) dergisi, Fransa dışındaki bağlamlarda öğretim ve araştırmadaki zorlukları bir araya getirebileceğimiz özel bir mücadele sayısı hazırlayarak bu toplumsal harekete katıldı. Ayrıca, Türkiye bağlamında akademik özgürlüğe bağlı, farklı araştırma yapmayı hedefleyen bir dernek olarak çalışmalarınızı görünür kılmak istedik.

2 Tasarım Atölyesi Kadıköy’de (TAK) düzenlediğiniz bir film gösterimine gelmiştim. O etkinlikte Fransa’ya bir dayanışma mesajı yollamışlardı. Demek ki bunları birbirine bağlı konular olarak görebiliriz” diye düşündüm.

3 Sizden başlayalım isterseniz. Siz de “imzacı” olarak akademiden ihraç edildiniz, davalarınız var, siz de bu süreçleri yaşadınız. Biraz kendinizden bahseder misiniz?

4 Emine Sevim: Ben Munzur Üniversitesi, Sosyoloji Bölümü’nde araştırma görevlisi olarak çalışıyordum. 2016 yılında bu imza kampanyası başladığında, yüksek lisansıma da İstanbul Üniversitesi’nde devam ediyordum. Her hafta İstanbul’a gidip geliyordum ve biraz geç haberim oldu, aslında ikinci imzacılardanım. Fakat o dönemde bu durum,

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hükümet tarafından saldırıya dönüşmüştü ve arkadaşlarım, yüksek lisans öğrencisi olduğum için benim imzamı yayınlamadılar. O nedenle bana dava açılmadı ama diğer imzacı arkadaşlarım ile birlikte ihraç edildim. Biz 2017 yılının Ocak ayında 686 numaralı Kanun Hükmünde Kararname (KHK) ile ihraç edildik. O dönemde biz Munzur Üniversitesi’nden ihraç edileceğimizi zaten anlamıştık ve dayanışma akademileriyle bir şeyler yapmaya başlamıştık. İhraçtan sonraki süreç tabii biraz kötü gelişti. Şehirde ses çıkarabileceğimiz bir alan yoktu. Okulum İstanbul’da olduğu için de 2017 Nisan-Mayıs ayı gibi İstanbul’a taşındım. O zamandan beri buradayım. Tüm bu süreçleri arkadaşlarımız ile birlikte örgütledik. Dayanışma akademilerini2 ve BAK (Barış için Akademisyenler)3 inisiyatifi dava koordinasyonunu zaten biliyorsunuz. Şimdi yeni bir grup daha oluşturduk. Beraatler sonrası, Olağanüstü Hal (OHAL) Komisyonu’na verilecek cevaplar, pasaportlarımızı alamama gibi hak kayıplarını takip eden bir grup oluşturduk, ben de aktif olarak onun içinde yer alıyorum. Hatta sizin de katıldığınız etkinliğin olduğu gün aslında biz, Fransa, Avrupa ve diğer ülkelerin akademilerindeki meseleleri takip ettiğimiz için, sokakta Eğitim-Sen ile birlikte bir basın açıklaması yapacaktık. Ama onu yapamadık çünkü son dönemde artık sokakta eylemler yapılmasına dair de baskı ve yasaklar oldu. O dönemde İstanbul Valiliği 10 gün boyunca sokakta yapılacak eylemleri yasaklamıştı. O nedenle biz de belgesel gösteriminde öyle bir mesaj gönderdik.

5 Basın açıklaması Fransa’nın durumu ile mi ilgiliydi?

6 Evet evet. Fransa’da emeklilik reformu ve üniversite reformunu takip ediyoruz. BAK Fransa’dan arkadaşlarımız ile de irtibat halindeydik. 5 Mart günü uluslararası bir dayanışma eylemi yapılacaktı. Biz de o gün için dışarıda bir basın açıklaması yaparak Fransızca, Almanca ve İngilizce dayanışma mesajlarımızı okuyacaktık fakat yapamadık o gün. Amacımız oradaki süreçte onlara destek olduğumuzu ve ortak olduğumuzu anlatmaktı hedefimiz.

7 Fransa’daki reformları nasıl karşılıyorsunuz?

8 Doğrusunu isterseniz o konu ile ilgili birkaç farklı görüş var. Biz de çok sık tartışıyoruz kendi aramızda. Üniversitelerdeki sıkıntılar aslında bizim gördüğümüz kadarıyla Avrupa’da daha önce başlamıştı. Mesela güvencesizlik, proje bazlı çalışma ve ücret anlamında bir eşitsizlik... Türkiye daha o aşamada değildi. Mesela akademideki kadın sayısı açısından düşünürsek, akademide ciddi oranda kadın olmasına rağmen, bir cam tavan etkisiyle pozisyon yükseldikçe sayı azalıyor. Onun dışında ücret eşitliği açısından bakıldığında özel üniversiteler Avrupa’daki ya da Amerika’daki gibi fazla sayıda ve gelişmiş değiller. Onları daha yeni yeni deneyimliyoruz. Ama onun dışında bizde de anti demokratik uygulamalar had safhada tabii. Biz araştırmalarımızı müdahale olmadan gerçekleştiremiyoruz. Bazı konular asla çalıştırılamaz hale getirildi. Özellikle OHAL dönemi, insanların çalışmaları iptal edildi. Demokratik haklar açısından bakıldığında biz çok daha kötü bir durumdayız. Ama güvence ve akademideki pozisyonlar açısından bakılığında Avrupa çok zor bir yer, bunu gözlemliyoruz. Dolayısıyla Fransa’daki üniversite reformu bizim de yakından hissettiğimiz bir şey çünkü üniversitelerdeki değişim son yıllarda Türkiye’de çok ciddi bir soruna dönüştü. Çok farklı pozisyonlar var, araştırma görevlisi, 50/d’li, ÖYP’li olan gibi çeşitli kavramlar var. Bu statüler, yönetmelikler ve müdahaleler ile sürekli değiştiriliyor. Son çıkan KHK’lar bu süreçleri o kadar hızlandırdı ki, çok tepeden inme bir biçimde, neoliberal politikaların adım adım gerçekleştireceği şeyler, pat diye gerçekleştiriliyor.

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Üniversitelerin durumuna dair zaten çoğumuz mücadele veren insanlarız. Hiç bu durumlar yokken de mevcut üniversiteleri eleştiren akademisyenlerdik. Fakat son süreç, daha yıkıcı, daha sert ve insan kıyımına neden olan bir süreç ördü. Bu anlamıyla tabii Fransa’daki arkadaşların orada başlattıkları ciddi protestolara konu olan hisleri bizi bu açıdan ilgilendiriyordu.

9 Statülerin değişimini biraz açıklar mısınız?

10 Araştırma görevlileri açısından bazı kategoriler var. Araştırma görevlileri, üniversitede çalışan akademik personelin en düşük statüde görülen kısmı. Normal şartlarda bizler de belli sınavlara girerek üniversitede çalışmaya başlıyoruz ama tam memur olarak görülmüyoruz. Buna yönelik hak kayıplarımız var. Tam olarak sözleşmeli gibi de değiliz. Aslında her yıl yenilenen bir sözleşme var ortada ama sosyal haklarımız şöyle değişiklik gösteriyor; örneğin ÖYP (ÖĞRETİM ÜYESİ YETİŞTİRME PROGRAMI) diye bir uygulama var. . Bu kişiler merkezi sınavlar ile üniversitede çalışmaya hak kazanıyorlar ve onların bağlı olduğu başka yönetmelikler var. Bu kişiler doktoralarını yaptıkları süre boyunca o sürenin aynısı kadar kadrolarının bulunduğu üniversitelerde çalışmak zorundalar. Eğer o durumda bir problem çıkarsa 100 binlerce liralık bir senet imzalamış oluyorlar ve devlet onlardan o parayı talep ediyor. Bu da onların sürekli olarak denetlenmesine ve baskılanmasına neden oluyor. İkinci olarak 50/d kadrosu var yine araştırma görevlileri için. Bu aslında Avrupa’daki sisteme biraz benziyor. Bir kişi doktorasını bitirene kadar üniversitede çalışmaya başlıyor ama doktorasını bitirince tamamen işsiz kalıyor. Ve o kişilerin ücreti, sigortası gibi şeyler daha düşük oluyor. Ve bir de her an işsiz kalma tehdidi ile çalışıyorlar. Son olarak yine araştırma görevlilerinin olduğu başka bir şey de 33/a kadrosu dediğimiz bir kadro. Bu da aslında cari alım denilen bir usül ile, girilen sınavlarla kişi üniversitede çalışmaya başlıyor ve kişi oranın kadrolu çalışanı gibi oluyor. Bu şimdiye kadar diğer kadrolar arasında biraz daha güvenceli bir kadro gibi görülüyordu fakat KHK’lar ile birlikte bu kadrolar da birbirine karıştırılmaya başlandı. Ben de 33/a kadrosuydum, her yıl bir sözleşme yapılıyordu ama biraz daha göstermelikti. Diğer kadrolarda doktora öğrencisi olma koşulu, öbüründe senet imzalama koşulu vs. varken bu kadroda öyle koşullar yok. Siz belli sınavlara girip orada kadrolu olarak çalışıyorsunuz. Onun dışında üniversitelerde bir de yardımcı doçent pozisyonu vardı, onu kaldırdılar. Şu anda doktorasını bitirenler doktor öğretim üyesi olarak çalışıyorlar.

11 İhraç olmanız hayatınızı nasıl etkiledi? Nasıl sıkıntılar yaşadınız?

12 İhraç edileceğimizi biz aslında bir hafta öncesinde anlamıştık çünkü bir yığın ihraç oluyordu. Biz de kendimizi hazırlamak istedik ama tabii öyle olmadı. Çünkü yerlerimizden edildik. Ben Dersim’de yaşıyordum ve evim, eşyalarım, kitaplarım oradaydı ama artık orada yaşayamaz oldum, göç etmek zorunda kaldım. İstanbul’a yerleştiğimde oradaki eşyalarımı ve kitaplarımı getiremedim. Burada ev de tutamadığım için bir oda kiraladım. Benim için en zor geçeni bu süreçti. O dönemde açık söylemek gerekirse her şeyin anlamını kaybettiği ve yaşamayı sorguladığımız bir dönem. O dönemde Mehmet Fatih Traş4 isimli bir arkadaşımızı kaybettik, intihar etti. Bu durumların neden olduğu şeyin çok ağır ve zor bir şey olduğunu düşünüyorum. Fakat sanıyorum o dönemde biraz daha hayatı iyileştiren şey, bizim dayanışmalarımız oldu. Ben o dönemde, İstanbul’a geldikten 3 ay sonra, yine benim gibi KHK’lı olan, Almanya’da olduğu için Türkiye’ye gelemeyen bir arkadaşımın evinde kaldım. O da bir şekilde Almanya’ya gitmişti, orada olduğu sırada ihraç edildiği haberini aldı ve

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pasaportu iptal olduğu için Türkiye’ye dönemedi. İstanbul’daki evi öylece boş duruyormuş, hatta birkaç kez hırsız girmiş evine. Ortak bir arkadaşımız vasıtasıyla ben onun evinde kalmaya başladım. Bu, benim için biraz daha iyi oldu. Öyle bir duygudaşlık kurmak... Biz uzaktan ev arkadaşıydık, o dayanışma iyi geldi. Bir de insanın kendine ait bir alana ne kadar ihtiyacı olduğunu o dönemde anladım. Zeynep’in evine taşındığım ilk bir haftayı, onun evdeki anılarına bakıp ağlayarak geçirdim. Benim için bir deşarj olma biçimiydi sanırım. Çünkü göç etmek zorunda olmamız çok dokunaklı geliyordu. Ama o birinci haftanın sonunda şunu kesinlikle anladım; Ben bu süreci ağlayarak geçirmek istemiyorum. Hemen bir toparlanma oldu. Sabahları işe gider gibi kütüphaneye gidiyordum, akşamları da işten döner gibi eve dönüyordum. Haftaiçi beş gün öyle bir rutin oluşturdum. Toplamda bir yıl içinde üç tane makale üretmiş oldum. Bu, bana çok iyi geldi. O sırada biz, dayanışma akademilerinde de çeşitli etkinlikler yapmaya başladık. Fakat, tam ben her şeyi yoluna koymuşken başka bir olay daha gerçekleşti. Özellikle taşra üniversiteleri dediğimiz, yani İstanbul, Ankara ve İzmir dışındaki üniversitelerde Barış Akademisyenleri’ni haberleştirip ifşa ederek gazetelerde ve sosyal medyada linç kampanyasına giriştiler. Ben 2017 Ocak’ta ihraç edilmiştim, 2017’nin Aralık ayında, yani neredeyse bir sene sonra oldu. Ben oradayken Türkiye’nin Toplumsal Yapısı dersi veriyordum. Biz araştırma görevlisiyiz, normal şartlarda ders veremeyiz ama derse gelemeyen hocaların derslerini vermemiz için de zorluyorlardı bizi. Bu derslerden bir tanesinde, Sosyal Bilimlerde Araştırma Yöntemleri dersi, bir örnek bularak onun üzerinde çalışıyorduk. Ben de sınıfa bir başlık bulup çalışalım diye sormuştum. Son derste bir öğrenci video çekmiş. Bir dakikalık bir video. Ben diyorum ki, “Kürdistan’da kadınlara yönelik hak ihlalleri, belki de bu konuyu biraz daha nesnel şekilde daraltmalıyız” diyorum ve ders bitiyor Ben derste Kürdistan diyorum diye bu video sosyal medyada paylaşıldı ve bir linç kampanyasına dönüştü. Sonra şehrin valisi ve rektör tarafından da konuyla ilgili açıklamalar yapıldı. Sonra rektörün özel kalemi, bütün sosyal medya hesaplarında benim KHK listesinde ismimi çizip, adımı verdi. Videoda sadece görüntü varken, o benim adımı, soyadımı ve kimlik numaramı verdi. Bu süre bizim çok zamanımızı aldı. Yani açıkçası ikinci kez ihraç edilmiş kadar feci bir durum yaşadım. Hukuki boyutu benim için oradan sonra başladı çünkü bu video gerekçe gösterilerek Terörle Mücadele Şubesi hakkımda bir soruşturma başlattı. Bayağı kabus gibi bir şeydi. Sonra bu durumu BAK’ta ve çeşitli arkadaş gruplarımda paylaştım. Bunun linç ve karalama kampanyası olarak nasıl kullanıldığını anlattım. Sonra ilginç bir şekilde, bu durumun belli yerlerde yaşandığını, özellikle Barış Akademisyenleri’nden bir kişinin seçilip, o kişilerin hakkında atıyorum mesela bir radyo programından bir bölüm anlatılmış, öbürünün yine bir derste çekilmiş videosu, öbürünün bilmem nerede yazdığı bir yazı... Hatta Tuna Altınel5‘i biliyorsunuzdur. O da hala bunun davasını yaşıyor. Bu tür örnekler bayağı bir çoğalmaya başladı.

13 Anayasa Mahkemesi’nin (AYM) kararlarından sonra Barış Akademisyenleri’nin durumları nedir? Durum normale döndü mü ya da dönecek mi? Bu konuda umudunuz var mı?

14 O çok tartışmalı bir konu. Geçtiğimiz Temmuz ayında AYM’nin açıklaması oldu. Sonrasında biz bu konuyu da epeyce tartıştık. Hatta hukukçu arkadaşlarımızın metinlerine bakılabilir, onlar daha hukuki terimlerle izah ediyorlar. Fakat başından beri söylediğimiz şey, bu geç kalınmış bir karar. Dolayısıyla her şeyin siyasi ve politik bir yörüngede ortaya konulduğunu gösteriyor. Çünkü başından beri biz şunu savunuyorduk; eğer bu 1128 kişiye aynı gerekçe ve aynı iddianame ile dava açıyorsanız

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niçin tek tek yargılıyorsunuz? Bunların hep birlikte yargılanması lazım, bu bir. İkincisi de, onların yargıladıkları maddeye itiraz edip 301 denilen madde ile yargılanmasını istiyorduk. Bunların hiç birisi dikkate alınmadı ve duruşmalar o şekilde sürdü. Ve bu, parçalı hale getirmenin çok net bir örneğiydi. Çünkü aynı davadan yargılanan bir kişiye beraat verilirken, bir kişiye 1 yıl 3 ay ceza verildi. Birisi 2 yılın üstünde ceza aldı, yani herkese farklı bir muamele yapıldı. Bu çok yanlış bir şeydi ve neticede hala onun ceremesini çekiyoruz. Dolayısıyla, AYM kararı gelince, ki o da neredeyse salt çoğunlukla verilen bir karar, bu tabii politik bir davranış gibi gözüktü bize. O yüzden sonrası için biraz daha temkinli olduk. Elbette çok sevindirici bir haberdi. O davaların tek tek düşmesi, artık beraat sonuçlarını alıyor olmak önemliydi. Ama bize de şunu anlatıyor, bu süreç hem politik, hem ideolojik, hem de pratik olarak uygulama açısından insanları ayrıştırarak farklı muamelerle, birlikte davranmalarının önüne geçen bir süreç. Aynı şey pasaport yasağı meselesinde de oldu. Şu anda pasaportlarını alabilen de var, alamayan arkadaşlarımız da var. Bunların hiç bir bahanesi yok. Hepsi keyfi olarak yapılan şeyler. Aynı şey işlerimize dönmek için de söz konusu. Bizim şu an çok önemli bir problemimiz var, biz işlerimize dönmedik. Biz çalışamıyoruz. Şu anda KHK’lı olduğumuz için hala sigortalı bir işe girmek, bırakın devlet kurumlarını, özel bir yerde çalışmak ve eğitimle ilgili bir faaliyet yürütmek bize yasak. Kendi imkanlarımızla bir şeyler yapmaya çalışıyoruz. Bizim haklarımız gasp edildi ve en önemli hakkımız da tekrar işlerimize geri dönebilmek. Bununla ilgili hiç bir gelişme yok. Bu konuda da, devletin farklı farklı uygulamalarla bazılarını çağırıp işe alıp, bazılarını işe alıp ertesi gün hemen işten atacağını, bazılarını hiç çağırmayıp başvurularını reddedeceğini bekliyoruz. Bu süreci takip ediyoruz.

15 Siz kendi araştırmalarına devam edebildiniz mi? Zeynep’in evinde kalırken kütüphaneye gittiğinizi söylediniz. Ama daha sonra devam edebildiniz mi?

16 O dönemde oradaki motivasyon biraz şöyleydi, aramızdaki dayanışma daha önemli bir şey ve ben maruz kaldığım şiddetin karşısında yenilmeyeceğim. “Bunlar üretmesin, düşünmesin, çalışmasınlar” gibi bir dayatmayı kabul etmedim ve o motivasyon ile çalışmalarımı sürdürüyordum. Fakat bu bahsettiğim video olayından sonra, tezimi yazdığım üniversitede tutunamadım. Onlar informal biçimde tezimi orada bitirmeme müsaade etmediler ve benim okul değiştirmem gerekti. Normalde üzerinde çalıştığım tez konusunu bırakıp yeni bir konuda tez yazmam gerekti ve bunu özel bir üniversitede yapabildim ne yazık ki. Ama neticede yüksek lisans tezimi tamamlayabildim, bir takım çalışmalar üretebildim. Bu akademik boyutuydu fakat asıl önemsediğim ve neredeyse bütün enerjimi aktarmak istediğim alan, bizim bunun dışında ürettiğimiz şeylerdi. O da Birarada’dan önce başlıyor aslında. Biz Birarada’yı belli bir sürecin sonunda kurduk çünkü. Tüm şehirlerdeki dayanışma akademilerinde ortak çalıştaylar yapıyorduk. Dünyada üniversiteler nasıl, yeni alternatif eğitim biçimleri neler, bunları araştırıyorduk. Birarada’dan önce başlayan bu çalışmalara ben biraz daha ağırlık veriyorum. Mesela o dönemde ben Kampüssüzler ile birlikte bir takım şeyler yapıyordum. Kapitalizmin toplumsal tarihi, Osmanlı’dan günümüze tarih, edebiyat, toplum gibi konular üzerine bir takım çalışmalar yaptık.

17 Kampüssüzler kimdi?

18 O da dayanışma akademilerinden bir tanesi. Dayanışma akademileri farklı farklı isimlerde kurulabiliyor. Mesela Eskişehir Dayanışma Akademisi, kendisine Eskişehir Okulu diyor. Kampüssüzler de onun gibi bir oluşum. Şu anda onlar ile birlikte

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yürütmüyorum çalışmalarımı ama Birarada Derneği en azından bize böyle bir alan açmış oldu. Bu süre zarfında en nitelikli çalışmaların da bu kolektif yapılar içinde geliştiğini düşünüyorum. Şu anda mesela biz, bir grup arkadaşımızla bir ders izlencesi hazırlıyoruz. Eleştirel akademi okumaları... Biz burada, üniversiteye geri dönersek ve ya dönmezsek dışarıda, üniversitelerin tarihine, sosyolojisine hatta ekonomi politiğine yönelik 13 haftalık bir ders programı hazırlıyoruz. Onu hazırlama yöntemimiz bence daha motive edici bir şey. Önceden bir başlık ve okumalar belirliyoruz. Açık çağrı yapıyoruz ve şu anki koşullar nedeniyle online bir toplantı yapıyoruz. İçeriğini birlikte belirliyoruz, daha doğrusu sorular üretiyoruz. Hem çalışma soruları oluyor bunlar, hem de ders içerisinde anlatılabilecek sorular oluyor. Onun dışında da bu dönem, doktora başvuruları yapmaya çalışacağım Haziran ayından itibaren. Her şeye rağmen okumayı, yazmayı ve üretmeyi önemsiyorum ve elimden geldiğince çalışma yapmaya gayret ediyorum.

19 Birarada Derneği’nin amaçları neler? Derneğinizi biraz tanıtabilir misiniz?

20 Öncesinden başlayan bir süreç ve üzerinde zihinsel emek harcadığımız bir şey. Birarada Derneği, dayanışma akademilerinin birlikte kurduğu bir dernek. Esas olarak, bilginin özgürce üretilmesi ve paylaşılması, yani bilginin toplumsallaşmasını önemsiyor. İkincisi ve yine bizim açımızdan önemli olan, akademik, mesleki, sosyal, hatta bazen ekonomik ama en önemlisi, politik dayanışma sağlamak. Birarada Derneği’nin üstlendiği belki de en önemli rollerden birisi bu. Üçüncüsü biraz hayal, şimdiden tartışmaya başladığımız konular etrafında bir enstitü olmaya çalışıyoruz. Hem özgürce bilgi üretebileceğimiz, hem bunu paylaşmanın farklı yollarını aradığımız, daha toplumsal yollarını aradığımız bir enstitü olmaya çalışıyoruz. Bununla ilgili girişimler henüz çok az. Sadece araştırıyoruz. Bu tür yapılar ile görüşmeye çalışıyoruz. En son Research Institute on Turkey isimli bir grupla görüştük. Onların deneyimlerini dinledik, onlar kooperatif gibi yapmış. Biraz bunları tartışıyoruz, eğitim kooperatifi olabilir miyiz, yoksa enstitü nasıl olur vs gibi. Esas olarak hem bilgi üretimi hem de dayanışma yapmaya çalıştığımız bir dernek Birarada. 2018 yılında resmi olarak kuruldu.

21 Ne gibi faaliyetler düzenliyorsunuz?

22 Başlangıçta seminerler planlamıştık. Hem toplumsal alana dokunan, hem de o alandaki kişilerin bilgisini aktarabildikleri belli seminerler yapıyorduk. Bir de Yeşil Gıda Topluluğu’muz var. O toplulukta da güvenli gıda, çeşitli kooperatifler ile ilgili deneyimler, bilgiler paylaşılması, onlar da kendi aralarında aylık toplantılar yapıyorlardı. Bir yandan ekolojik hareketlerle temas kurmaya çalıştığımız da bir şeydi. Bunlar devam ediyor hala. Birarada seminerleri de biraz şöyle dönüştü. Türkiye’deki problemler bitmeyen, çok geniş bir alanda... Biz belli gündemler etrafında tartışmalar örmeye başladık. Mesela pandemiden önce, Kanal İstanbul Projesi ile ilgili bir toplantı düzenledik. Tabii Birarada’nın mali kaynakları da, biraz fonlar ve projeler üzerinden geliyor. Avrupa Birliği’ne bağlı, uluslararası kurumlardan aldığı hibeler ve yardımlar ila ekonomik yönünü ayakta tutabiliyor.

23 Şu anda yardımlar devam ediyor mu?

24 Biz çalışmalarımızı projelendiriyoruz ve belli yerlere başvuruyoruz. Şu ana kadar iki proje oldu. Şimdi başvurduğumuz ve sonuç beklediğimiz bir proje daha var. O da olursa önümüzdeki bir buçuk yıl için tamam oluyor. Ama şu anda kendi kaynaklarını üreten

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ve kendi ayakları üzerinde durmayı sağlayabilmiş bir dernek değil, çok yeni bir dernek. Onun dışında bütün üyeler, dernekte yapmakta istedikleri etkinlikler önerip yapabiliyorlar. Eleştirel akademi okumalarını yine Birarada altında yapıyoruz ama sadece dernek içinde değil, dernek dışında da isteyen katılabiliyor.

25 Birarada Derneği’nin dayanışma akademilerinden farkı nedir? Çalışmalarda, faaliyetlerde nasıl farklar var, biraz anlatır mısınız?

26 Dayanışma akademileri aslında daha yerel örgütler. Mesela Kocaeli Dayanışma Akademisi’ne bakıcak olursak, Kocaeli’nin kendine has belli dinamikleri var. Mesela orada sendikalar, meslek odaları ve üniversiteler birbirlerine daha yakın. Onlar niceliksel olarak daha küçük bir grup. Daha çabuk yan yana gelebilip, daha hızlı örgütlenip daha hızlı tepkiler üretebiliyorlar. Dolayısıla Kocaeli Dayanışma Akademisi, oraya uygun bir örgütlenme. Örneğin ben Birarada Derneği üyesiyim ama Kocaeli Dayanışma Akademisi üyesi değilim. Çünkü orada yaşayan, daha çok oranın insanlarının olduğu bir yer. Birarada’ya tüm illerden herkes üye olabiliyorlar. Barış Akademisyeni ya da dayanışma akademisi üyesi olması gerekmiyor. Ama diğer dayanışma akademileri için bu geçerli değil. Orada olmanız gerekiyor. Bir diğer fark da, o yerele uygun kendi özgün çalışmalarını üretiyorlar. Mesela Eskişehir, daha en başında, dayanışma akademileri hiç ortada yokken dayanışma dersleri adı altında bir çalışmaya başladı ve düzenli dersler verdi. Önümüzdeki hafta 83. dersi yapılacak mesela. Onun dışında Eskişehir’de bir de Uçurtma Kafe kuruldu ve bir tane de “Barışa Ezgi” ismiyle bir müzik grupları var. Ankara’daki arkadaşlarımız eğitim kooperatifi kurdular. Online dersler vermeye başladılar. İlk açıldığı zaman da öyleydi, yoğun bir programla birilerinin ders anlattığı ve öğrencilerin katılıp dinleyebildiği çeşitli etkinlikler. Onlar da mesela bir eğitim kooperatifi oldular ve örneğin yayın yapabilme durumları var, kooperatif olmanın getirdiği avantajları daha çok kullanmaya çalışıyorlar. İzmir’de dernek oldu arkadaşlarımız, orada da mesela daha çok TİHV (Türkiye İnsan Hakları Derneği) ile birlikteler. Her bölgede, kendi bulunduğu alandaki sivil toplum kuruluşları ile de bağlantı halinde çalışıyor dayanışma akademileri. Birarada, bunlardan biraz daha farklı olarak, tüm dayanışma akademilerinden arkadaşlarımızın ortak tartışması ve, “Biz bir ortak dernek kuralım” demesi ile ortaya çıktı. Fakat o durum da tam olarak öyle işlemedi. Ortak bir dernek kuruldu ama tüm dayanışma akademileri de sonrasında çok aktif olamadı. Birarada da İstanbul merkezli şekilde kendi bağımsız çalışmalarını yürütüyor gibi.

27 Alternatif eğitim ve araştırma yöntemleri üretmeye çalışıyorsunuz. Bunun üzerine neler düşünüyorsunuz, neler konuşuyorsunuz?

28 Alternatif eğitim ile ilgili, alternatif kelimesinin kendisini de sorguladık. Alternatif demiyoruz, “Başka Bir Akademi” diyoruz. Bu çalışmalar ilk başta dayanışma akademileri çalıştaylarında oldu. 2017 Mart ayından başlayarak 2018 yılına kadar 4 tane çalıştay yaptık. İlk çalıştayımızda biz, dünyada ve Türkiye’de, bizim gibi, üniversitelerden tasviye edilmiş, dışında bırakılmış ve dışarıda bu arayışı sürdüren çabaları anlamaya çalıştık. Türkiye’de bizden önce, Bilar ve Bilsak6 gibi deneyimler var. 80 Darbesi sonrası Aydınlar Dilekçesi ile okuldan uzaklaştırılanları inceledik. Onun dışında, yurtdışında özellikle Latin Amerika, bu meselenin biraz daha yoğun yaşandığı bir yer. Bir arkadaşımız orayı biraz araştırdı. Eğitimin orada bir toplumsal hareket olarak nasıl geliştiğini ve nasıl uygulamalar olduğunu... Bu böyle çeşitlendi. Amerika’daki New School’u inceledik bir oturumda. Yunanistan’da bazı örnekleri

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inceledik. Bu şekilde başladı fakat orada bir şeyin eksik olduğunu fark ettik, pedagojik yanı. Eğitim nasıl verilebilir? Biz kendi birbirimizle kurduğumuz ilişkiden, eğitimin kamusallaşmasına kadar nasıl yapabiliriz? Bunu araştırdığımızda malum, Paulo Freire’in Ezilenlerin Pedagojisi’nden başlayarak, pedagoji üzerine bir çalıştay düzenledik. Freire’den ve onun dışında Sovyetler’deki bazı deneyimlerden, Augusto Boal’in Ezilenlerin Tiyatrosu eserinden sunumlar yapıldı. Feminist pedagoji en önemli tartışma konumuz. Biraz bunları değerlendirmeye çalıştık. Dolayısıyla kendi aramızda da belli şeyler oldu. Bunları uygulamaya çalıştığımız atölyeler yaptık. Ama tabii bunlar çok temel çalışmalar. Bir tür araştırma gibi, henüz uygulamada doğru düzgün yapabildiğimiz pek bir şey yok. Bunları tartışmak bile bize iyi geliyor. “Başka Bir Akademi” grubunda dördüncü toplantımız olacak, “Başka Bir Akademi”nin mekanı nasıl olmalı, üniversite-akademi ayrımı nedir, “Başka Bir Akademi”nin eğitimi nasıl olmalı gibi şeyleri tartışıyoruz. Son yapacağımız şeyde de disiplinler arası ayrışmayı ve bunun tarihsel kaynaklarını ve belki de bunu aşabilmenin yollarını tartışacağımız bir oturum gerçekleştireceğiz. Araştırmaya devam ediyoruz, çok basit düzeyde de deniyoruz.

29 Birbirinden farklı çalışmalarınız var. Bu durum, derneğin yönetim tarzını etkiliyor mu? Kararları nasıl alıyorsunuz?

30 Bu biraz zor bir soru. Tahmin edebileceğiniz gibi çok tartışmalı bir alan. Hatta rahatlıkla, üniversitede çalıştığımız dönemlerde yaşadığımızın sorunların bagajıyla yaklaştığımız bir alan olduğunu söyleyebiliriz. Araştırma görevlilerinin üniversitelerde görev tanımı çok muğlaktır. “Bölüm Başkanı’nın istediklerini yapmak” gibi bir görev tanımı da var. Dolayısıyla, aramızdaki bu deneyim farklılığı, alanda kendisini hissettiriyor. Çünkü ben bu dertten muzdarip olduğum için, ne yapacağım kabaca belli olsun istiyorum. Dernek olduktan sonra böyle oldu, öncesinde böyle değildi. Dernek, İl Dernekler Müdürlüğü’ne bağlı. Tüzük yazılmış olması, karar defterlerinin düzenli tutulması, üyelerin kaydedilmesi gibi bir takım işler, bir tür emek farklılaşmasına dönüşüp bazı insanların bu konuda daha fazla yıpranmasına sebep olabiliyordu. Ücretli pozisyonları var derneğin ve bu bizim için bir tartışma haline döndü. Çünkü o ücretli pozisyonların neler yaptığı ve yapıcaklarını anlatabilmek gerekti. Çünkü öbür türlü, bazı insanların hiçbir şey yapmadığı, bazı insanların bütün işleri yaptığı bir hale dönüşüyor. Bununla ilgili şiddetli tartışmalar yaşadık ne yazık ki. Ama onun dışında şöyle bir yaklaşımımız hep var, örneğin bütçe, kararlar veya orada neler yaptığımıza dair toplantı notları vs. şeffaf bir şekilde herkesle paylaşılıyor ve herkesin katkısına açık. Bu konunun bence bizim özgün yanımızı oluşturduğunu düşünüyorum. Durum ve konu ne olursa olsun, kimse kimseden hiçbir şey gizlemiyor. Ve ya herhangi birinin katkısına ket vurulmuyor, herkes istediğini söyleyebiliyor. Onun dışında bir de olumlu olarak şunu söyleyebilirim, bir fondan proje alınıyor ve oranın sabit çalışanları var. Orada bir denge kuruluyor ve maddi dayanışma da yine o fon üzerinden sağlanıyor. Bundan hiç vazgeçmedik şimdiye kadar. Son iki aydır karar alma mekanizmaları ve derneğin güvenlikli bir şekilde açık ve şeffaf olması üzerine çalışıyoruz ve bence iyi bir aşamaya geldik. Biraz konsensus ve rotasyonlu çalışma üzerine konuştuk. Herkesin bir konuda uzmanlaşmasını ve o uzman bilgisi ile hiyerarşi kurmasının önüne geçecek mekanızmalar gibi. Bunlar biraz üzerinde kafa yorduğumuz şeyler oldu. Umarım uygulayabiliriz. Benim kişisel fikrim, üniversitelerde yaşadığımız eşitsizliklerin tamamını buralarda görmek mümkün. Ben en azından kendi adıma, yaş hiyerarşisini

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hissediyorum. Cinsiyet hiyerarşisi şimdiye kadar olmadı çünkü kadınların aktif çalıştığı bir grubuz. O tür eğilimler olduğunda müdahale edebiliyoruz. Ama yaş hiyerarşisi ya da üniversitedeki statü hiyerarşisi gibi şeyleri ben yaşadığımızı düşünüyorum. Umarım aşabiliriz.

31 Derneğin üzerinde herhangi bir baskı var mı? Yapmak istediğiniz şeyleri özgürce yapabiliyor musunuz? Ülkedeki siyasi durumun derneğin üzerinde bir etkisi var mı? Varsa buna karşı nasıl mücadele ediyorsunuz? Bazı konularda otosansür yapıyor musunuz?

32 Mükemmel bir soru. Bunu iki alanda hissediyoruz. Bir tanesi devletin idari işleri. İdari alanda çok basit gerekçelerle bizim gibi örgütlere cezalar kesilebiliyor. Örneğin defterin bir sayfası eksik ya da neyi, nerede, nasıl tutuyorsun, Dernekler Masası’na bildirim yaptın mı gibi. Bu problemi bizden daha yoğun yaşayan örgütler var. Mesela Kaos GL, bunun en önemli örneğidir. Devlet, sürekli, mütemadiyen oraya baskı yapar. Bunu bildiğimiz için muhasebeci ile, avukatlar ile çalışıyoruz. O defterleri çok düzenli ve açık vermeyecek şekilde, kurallara uygun tutuyoruz. Bu alanda aldığımız tek önlem bu, başka da bir şey yapamayız zaten. Fakat siyasi baskılarda, dernek kurulduktan iki ay sonra bir problem ile karşılaştık. Bu dernek, ihraç edilmiş ve ya edilmemiş Barış Akademisyenleri, üniversitedeki o risk altındaki muhalif akademisyenler ile dolu. Dernek kurulduktan iki ay sonra Dernekler Masası’ndan bir karar çıktı. Tüm üyelerimizin adreslerini, telefonlarını, kimlik numaralarını bu sisteme girmemiz istendi. Biz bunu kendi aramızda tartıştık. Devlet neden böyle bir şey yapıyor? İstese zaten bu bilgilere ulaşır da insanların adreslerine kadar bu bilgileri kendi elimizle girmek bizi biraz kaygılandırdı o dönem. Biz epeyce bunu tartıştık, avukatlarla görüştük, tüm üyelere sorduk. Bunu yapmazsak da ceza alıyormuşuz. Biz buna mecbur kaldık. Onun için bir mücadele de veremedik açıkçası. Hak savunucularının öyle çalışmaları varsa da o dönemde maalesef öyle bir alanla içli dışlı değildik. Sonrasında Sosyal Araştırmalar Vakfı ile, hatta Kadıköy Belediyesi ile ilişkiler kurduk. Geçtiğimiz yazdan beri, Kadıköy Belediyesi ile ortak yapabileceğimiz bir takım çalışmalar üretiyoruz ve bu bence gerçekten önemli. Onun dışında Türkiye’de bir hak savunucuları ağı var. İçinde İHD, TİHV, Hafıza Merkezi gibi hak savunucularının olduğu bir platform var, onların çalışmalarını takip etmeye başladık. Böyle bir sorun olduğunda, en azından kime ve nereye başvurabileceğimizi biliyoruz. Başlangıçta bunu bile bilmiyorduk. Bence bu da önemli bir önlem. Başımıza herhangi bir şey gelirse buna kamuoyu yaratabileceğimiz ve hakkımızı arayabileceğimiz yerler. Tüm bunları biliyoruz ama açık söylemek gerekirse derneğin politik bir iddiası yok şu anda. Belli konularda, belli tartışmalar yürütüyoruz ama bir hak savunuculuğu yapmıyoruz. Herhangi bir politik söylemde bulunmuyoruz. Örneğin korona virüsü başladığında ben Yürütme Kurulu toplantısında buna karşı bir açıklama yapmayı önermiştim. Öğrenciler kötü etkilendi, işçiler çalışmaya devam ediyor, bizlerin hayatı da risk altında. Şu an polis kapımı çalıp beni gözaltına alsa ne yapacağımız belli değil. Bu tür şeyler ile de burun burunayız. Bunları beyan eden, anlatan, talepleri dile getiren bir şey hazırlamayı önerdim ama bu kabul edilmedi. Genel görüş, farklı görüşlerden de insanların olduğu hetorojen bir grup olduğumuz için politik söylemlerden uzak duralım şeklinde oldu. Birarada’nın şu anda durduğu pozisyon, akademik dayanışmayı sürdüren ama politik bir iddiası olmayan, kendi içinde belli tartışmaları yürüten ve fonlarla ayakta duran bir kurum olarak görünüyor.

33 Kadıköy Belediyesi’nin bir desteği varsa bu da bir siyasi bağlantı değil mi?

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34 Aslında öyle. Kadıköy Belediyesi yıllardır CHP’de ve CHP son dönem ciddi bir başarı elde etti. Kadıköy Belediyesi’ne biz bazı öneriler ile gittik. “Biz şöyle bir derneğiz. İçimizde şu alanlarda çalışan akademisyenler var. Özellikle toplumsal cinsiyet, göç, kent profili araştırmaları, yaşlılık çalışmaları alanlarında biz, sizin için araştırma yapabiliriz. Sizlerle ortak çalışma yürütebiliriz” diyerek belli projeler önermiş olduk. Onlar bunu kabul ettiler çünkü böyle bir şeye sanıyorum ihtiyaçları varmış. Onlarda da bu tür çalışmalar üretecek ekipler doğru düzgün oluşmamış sanırım. Biz tam bu ihtiyaca denk düşen bir şeyle örtüşmüş olduk. Bu ilişki de sonrasında gelişti. Pandemi sürecinde askıya alınmış gibi oldu ama ortak etkinliklere ve önerilere açıklar. Mesela Tuna [Altinel]’in mahkemesine giderken Belediye’den otobüs talep edebiliyoruz, bunu sağlayabiliyorlar.

NOTES

1. Derneğin internet sitesi için: http://biraradadernek.org 2. Dayanışma akademileri, ihraç edilen akademisyenlerin, eğitim ve öğretimi engellenmeden sürdürebilmek ve üniversiteye alternatif alanlar yaratmak için farklı şehirlerde kurduğu oluşumlardır. 3. Barış İçin Akademisyenler, 2012 yılının Kasım ayında Kürt tutsakların başlattığı açlık grevleri sırasında, barış talebini desteklemek amacıyla kaleme alınan ve 50’nin üzerinde üniversiteden 264 akademisyen tarafından imzalanan bir bildirinin sonrasında kuruldu. Bugün ise Barış İçin Akademisyenler, 2016 yılının Ocak ayında yayınlanan “Bu suça ortak olmayacağız!” metninin imzacıları olarak tanınıyorlar. Bu metnin imzacısı olan iki bini aşkın akademisyenin yüzlercesi işten atıldı, pasaportlarına el konuldu, başka yerlerde iş bulmaları engellendi. Barış İçin Akademisyenler’in internet sitesi için: https://barisicinakademisyenler.net/English 4. Mehmet Fatih Traş, Çukurova Üniversitesi İktisadi ve İdari Bilimler Fakültesi Ekonometri Bölümü’nde araştırma görevlisi. “Bu suça ortak olmayacağız” isimli bildiriye imza attığı için işinden kovulan Traş, 25 Şubat 2017’de intihar etti. 5. Tuna Altınel, Lyon 1 Üniversitesi’nde öğretim görevlisi ve “Bu suça ortak olmayacağız” bildirisinin imzalacılarından birisi. Fransa’da Şubat 2019’da katıldığı bir konferans nedeniyle Türkiye’ye geldiği mayıs ayında tutuklandı. 81 gün hapishanede kalan Altınel, 30 Temmuz’daki ilk duruşmada tutuksuz yargılanmasına karar verildi. 24 Ocak 2020 günü görülen davada da beraat etti. 6. 80 Darbesi sonrası dönemde kültürel ve sanatsal faaliyetlerde bulunan kurumlar.

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AUTHORS

EMINE SEVIM

Emine Sevim, 36 yaşında ve Bilim, Sanat, Eğitim, Araştırma ve Dayanışma Derneği (BİRARADA) üyesidir. Şu anda Türkiye’deki üniversitelerin dönüşümü üzerine sosyoloji alanında bir tez hazırlıyor.

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Entretien avec Emine Sevim de l’association « BİRARADA » par Sümbül Kaya

Emine Sevim et Sümbül Kaya Traduction : Jean-François Pérouse

L’« Association pour la science, l’art, l’éducation, la recherche et la solidarité » a été créée pour mener des activités éducatives et de recherche au profit de la société et de la nature, des activités artistiques et culturelles, et pour soutenir les activités des personnes et des institutions ayant des objectifs similaires et pour renforcer cette solidarité existante. Elle rejette toutes les formes de discrimination et de violence fondées sur le sexe et l’orientation sexuelle, l’origine ethnique, la classe, les croyances, l’âge et le handicap. Elle soutient la production de connaissances critiques, un accès facile et égal à l’information conformément aux valeurs laïques, égalitaires, libertaires et aux principes universels de la science ; en outre elle vise à protéger la liberté académique dans toutes les conditions”1.

1 Sümbül Kaya : Vous avez certainement suivi ce qu’il se passe actuellement en France où on assiste à une mobilisation d’ampleur contre le projet visant les retraites, contre la réforme de l’assurance chômage adoptée à l’automne 2019 et contre les propositions contenues dans les rapports pour la loi de programmation pluriannuelle de la recherche (LPPR). La Revue EJTS a pris part à ce mouvement social en prévoyant un numéro spécial « en lutte » où nous pourrions intégrer les difficultés dans l’enseignement et la recherche dans d’autres contextes que celui de la France. Nous voulions aussi rendre visible votre travail en tant qu’association qui ambitionne de faire de la recherche autrement et qui s’engage pour la liberté académique dans le contexte turc. Je suis allée voir votre film à l’Atelier de Design de Kadıköy. Durant cet événement, un message de solidarité a été envoyé à la France avec l’intitulé « Pour l’Université Internationale, arrête-toi un moment, pense et rêve ». J’ai alors pensé que vous considériez que vos questions et celles de l’université française étaient liées.

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2 Commençons par vous si vous voulez. Vous aussi avez été exclue de l’Université en tant que signataire, vous aussi avez été l’objet d’un procès et avez vécu toutes ces épreuves. Pouvez-vous d’abord parler un peu de vous ?

3 Emine Sevim : Je travaillais en tant qu’allocataire de recherche (öğretim görevlisi) au département de sociologie de l’Université Munzur. En 2016 quand cette campagne de signatures a commencé, je faisais parallèlement ma Yüksek Lisans [NDT : équivalent du master] à l’Université d’Istanbul. Chaque semaine, je faisais l’aller-retour à Istanbul et pour cette raison, je n’ai été mise au courant de cette campagne que tardivement ; c’est pourquoi je fais partie des signataires de la seconde vague [NDT : Celle de la pétition ouverte le 21 janvier 2016, la première, lancée le 10/01, ayant été close le 20 janvier]. Mais comme le gouvernement s’était mis à réagir très violemment à ces initiatives, mes camarades signataires ont préféré ne pas publier ma signature, comme j’étais encore étudiante en Yüksek Lisans. C’est la raison pour laquelle une instruction judiciaire n’a pas été ouverte contre moi ; en revanche j’ai été expulsée comme mes autres camarades. Très exactement en janvier 2017, au terme du décret-loi (KHK) n°686. Nous avions d’ailleurs alors bien compris que nous serions expulsés de l’Université Munzur et avions commencé à faire des choses avec les Académies de la solidarité.

4 La période juste après l’expulsion a été évidemment difficile. Il n’existait à Tunceli aucun espace pour espérer faire entendre notre voix. Comme j’étais inscrite à Istanbul, j’ai décidé d’y déménager aux environs d’avril-mai 2017. Et depuis cette date je m’y trouve. Nous nous sommes employés à faire face collectivement avec mes camarades à toutes ces épreuves. Vous connaissez bien-sûr les Académies de la solidarité2 et la coordination judiciaire assurée par l’Initiative des Académiciens pour la Paix (BAK3). À présent nous avons formé un nouveau groupe. Après les acquittements [NDT : Survenus à partir de septembre 2019], nous avons constitué un collectif au sein duquel je suis active, pour le suivi des réponses à donner à la Commission de l’état d’urgence (OHAL komisyonu) et celui des pertes de droits comme celles constituées par la confiscation des passeports. Et en fait, le jour où vous êtes venue pour notre événement, nous allions faire dans la rue une conférence de presse avec le syndicat Eğitim-Sen à propos de la situation des universités en France et dans d’autres pays d’Europe. Mais nous n’avons pas pu le faire parce que ces derniers temps les pressions et interdictions contre les activités dans l’espace public allaient croissant. À cette époque, la préfecture d’Istanbul avait même interdit toute activité dans la rue pendant 10 jours. C’est la raison pour laquelle nous nous sommes contentés d’envoyer un tel message durant la projection du documentaire.

5 La conférence de presse était relative à la situation en France ?

6 Oui oui. Nous suivons la réforme des retraites et celle de l’université en France. Nous sommes en contact étroit avec nos camarades de BAK France. Et le 5 mars, une action de solidarité internationale devait avoir lieu. C’est dans ce cadre que nous devions ce même jour lire nos messages de solidarité en français, allemand et anglais sous la forme d’une conférence de presse rendue à l’extérieur, mais nous n’avons pas pu le faire ce jour. Notre but était de faire savoir que nous soutenions les mobilisations là-bas et que nous étions solidaires de ceux qui se mobilisaient.

7 Que pensez-vous des réformes en France ?

8 Si vous voulez vraiment savoir, il existe parmi nous des avis divergents sur la question. Nous en discutons fréquemment entre nous. Autant que nous avons pu l’observer, il

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semble en fait que les difficultés au sein de l’université aient commencé plus tôt en Europe. Par exemple la précarité, l’inégalité issue de l’extension du travail et de la rémunération par projet… La Turquie n’en était pas à ce stade… De même en ce qui concerne l’effet « plafond de verre » constaté pour les femmes universitaires quand il s’agit de monter dans la hiérarchie ; de même en ce qui concerne l’inégalité des rémunérations entre les sexes. Tout cela, nous l’expérimentons depuis très peu de temps. Cela dit, chez nous les pratiques anti-démocratiques atteignent un niveau incroyable bien-sûr. Nous ne pouvons faire nos recherches sans être l’objet d’ingérences. Certaines questions sont même devenues complètement intraitables. Tout particulièrement lors de la période de l’état d’urgence [NDT : OHAL : fin juillet 2016-mi-juillet 2018] des recherches ont été interrompues. Du point de vue des droits démocratiques, nous sommes dans une situation bien pire. Mais du point de vue de la sécurité de l’emploi et des positions académiques, l’Europe semble dans une position plus dure ; c’est en tout cas ce que nous observons. C’est pourquoi la réforme de l’université en France est un processus qui nous touche de près puisque tous ces bouleversements sont devenus des questions brûlantes en Turquie aussi. En effet il existe des statuts très différents avec des appellations comme araştırma görevlisi, 50/d ou ÖYP. Et ces statuts changent en permanence sous le coup de décrets d’application et autres interventions. Et les décrets-lois sortis ces derniers temps ont accéléré toutes ces mutations à un tel point que des évolutions réalisées pas à pas par les politiques néolibérales ont été ici imposées tout d’un coup. Nous sommes tous des gens qui luttent pour la situation des universités. Nous étions des universitaires critiquant le système alors qu’on n’en était pas encore à ce point. Mais les derniers bouleversements ont initié un processus beaucoup plus destructeur, plus dur et plus coûteux au niveau humain. En ce sens, les sentiments des camarades en France à l’origine de leur sérieuse mobilisation nous intéressaient de près.

9 Pourriez-vous préciser un peu les changements survenus dans les statuts ?

10 En ce qui concerne les allocataires de recherche (araştırma görevlisi), il y a en fait plusieurs catégories. Ceux-ci sont considérés comme constituant le segment le plus bas du personnel enseignant travaillant à l’université. Dans des conditions normales, nous autres allocataires nous commençons à travailler à l’université en passant nous aussi certains examens ; mais cependant, nous ne sommes pas considérés comme des fonctionnaires. À cet égard nous sommes victimes d’une perte de droits. Pour autant, nous ne sommes pas tout à fait des contractuels. En fait, nous avons un contrat renouvelé chaque année, mais nos droits sociaux ont subi des changements. Prenons l’exemple des ÖYP. Ces collègues gagnent le droit de travailler à l’université à la suite d’un concours national et ont des caractéristiques fixées par décrets d’application. Ces collègues sont dans l’obligation de travailler dans l’université où se trouve leur poste autant d’années qu’il leur a fallu pour faire leur doctorat. S’ils ne peuvent pas remplir ce contrat, ils signent une reconnaissance de dette de 100 000 LT et l’État leur réclame le paiement de cette somme. Cette caractéristique a pour conséquence que ces collègues sont constamment contrôlés et l’objet de pressions. En deuxième lieu, nous avons le statut « 50/d », autre type d’allocataire de recherche. Ce statut ressemble en fait au système prévalent en Europe. La personne commence à travailler à l’université jusqu’à ce qu’elle finisse sa thèse ; cependant, une fois qu’elle a terminé sa thèse, elle se retrouve complètement au chômage. La rémunération et la sécurité sociale de cette personne sont moins élevées. En outre, elle travaille avec le risque de se retrouver un jour ou l’autre au chômage. En dernier lieu, il y a un autre statut d’allocataire dit « 33/

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a ». Dans ce cas, la personne commence à travailler à l’université au terme d’un examen organisé après publication de poste selon la procédure centralisée classique ; une fois admise, elle fait partie du personnel statutaire de l’université qui l’a recrutée. Ce statut, jusqu’à dernièrement, était considéré comme le plus sûr parmi les statuts d’allocataire, mais avec les décrets-lois récents, tous ces statuts ont commencé être confondus. Moi par exemple j’avais le statut « 33/a » ; certes je signais chaque année un nouveau contrat, mais c’était un peu une formalité. Une fois les examens requis réussis, vous travailliez comme titulaire. Ces statuts mis à part, il existait aussi avant un statut de maître assistant (yardımcı doçent), mais il a été supprimé. À l’heure actuelle, ceux qui terminent leur doctorat travaillent désormais en tant que « membre du personnel enseignant-docteur ».

11 En quoi le fait d’être expulsée a impacté votre vie ? Quelles difficultés avez-vous rencontrées ?

12 Nous avons compris que nous allions être expulsés une semaine avant la décision effective, puisque ces procédures se font de manière groupée. Nous avions souhaité nous y préparer, mais il n’en fut rien. Puisque nous avons été chassés de notre lieu de vie aussi. Moi je vivais à Tunceli/Dersim et ma maison, mes affaires et mes livres s’y trouvaient. Mais ce lieu devint invivable pour moi. Je fus dans l’obligation de migrer. Lorsque je me suis installée à Istanbul, je n’ai pas apporté mes affaires et mes livres. J’ai loué juste une pièce, parce que je ne voulais pas en faire ma maison. Ce qui fut le plus pénible pour moi, ce fut d’abord tout cela. Cette période, pour le dire franchement, fut une période où tout avait perdu son sens et où j’interrogeais jusqu’au sens de la vie. C’est durant cette période que nous avons perdu un de nos amis du nom de Mehmet Fatih Traş, qui s’est suicidé4. Tout était pesant et difficile alors. Aussi je pense que ce qui a un peu amélioré notre vie ce fut notre solidarité. Ainsi, trois mois après être arrivée à Istanbul, j’ai été hébergée dans la maison d’une camarade qui ne pouvait pas retourner en Turquie parce qu’elle se trouvait en Allemagne quand elle a été expulsée par décret-loi comme moi. Comme elle ne pouvait pas rentrer en Turquie parce que son passeport avait été annulé, sa maison à Istanbul restait donc vide ; des voleurs y étaient même entrés à plusieurs reprises. C’est par l’intermédiaire d’une camarade commune que j’ai commencé à habiter dans sa maison. Ceci me fit du bien de fonder une telle communauté de sentiments… Nous étions des colocataires à distance. Cette entraide me fit du bien.

13 Et j’ai compris à ce moment combien il était nécessaire à chacun d’avoir un espace à lui. La première semaine après avoir déménagé chez Zeynep, j’ai passé une semaine à regarder ses souvenirs dans sa maison en pleurant. Ça a été je crois une forme de décharge pour moi. Parce que le fait que nous ayons été toutes deux obligées à émigrer me touchait profondément. Mais au bout d’une semaine, j’ai compris avec certitude que je ne voulais pas passer ces épreuves à pleurer. Et je me suis aussitôt ressaisie. Le matin, j’allais à la bibliothèque comme si j’allais au travail et le soir, je rentrais à la maison comme si je rentrais du travail. Je me suis aménagé ainsi une petite routine, cinq jours sur sept. Au total en l’espace d’un an, j’avais produit trois articles. Ceci me fit beaucoup de bien. Durant ce temps, nous avons commencé à organiser diverses activités dans le cadre des Académies de la solidarité. Mais alors même que j’avais remis les choses en ordre, survint une autre affaire. Des campagnes de lynchage furent entreprises dans les journaux et sur les médias sociaux, consistant en un dévoilement diffamatoire des universitaires pour la paix, tout spécialement ceux des universités dites de province, c’est-à-dire celles situées hors d’Istanbul, İzmir et Ankara. Moi j’ai été expulsée en

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janvier 2017 ; la campagne a commencé en décembre 2017, soit près d’un an après. Quand j’étais à l’Université Munzur, je donnais un cours intitulé « Structure sociale de la Turquie ». En tant qu’allocataire de recherche, dans des conditions normales, nous ne devions pas donner de cours, mais on nous contraignait à faire les cours des enseignants qui ne les assuraient pas. Lors d’un de ces cours intitulé « Méthodes de la recherche en sciences sociales », nous essayons de travailler à partir d’un exemple. Je trouvais une entrée générale pour la classe et j’essayais de la faire travailler dans cette direction. Lors de mon dernier cours, un étudiant a filmé pendant une minute. Alors que je disais « les violations des droits des femmes au Kurdistan, voilà un sujet sur lequel il faudrait se concentrer de manière un peu plus objective », le cours se terminait. Cette vidéo a circulé sur les réseaux sociaux comme une preuve que je disais « Kurdistan » dans mes cours. Et cela a viré en campagne de lynchage. Ensuite le préfet du département et le président de l’université ont fait des déclarations officielles à ce sujet. Puis le secrétaire particulier du président de l’université, après avoir fait souligner mon nom dans la liste des expulsés du décret-loi dans tous ses comptes sur les médias sociaux, a lâché et diffusé mon nom. Alors que dans la vidéo il n’y avait que l’image et le son, lui il a donné mon prénom, mon nom de famille et mon numéro d’identité. Ces affaires nous ont pris beaucoup de notre temps. Autrement dit, franchement, j’ai vécu cette atroce campagne comme si j’étais expulsée une seconde fois. La dimension judiciaire a commencé dès lors pour moi, puisque sur la base de cette vidéo, j’ai fait l’objet d’une poursuite initiée par le département de Lutte contre le Terrorisme. Ce fut vraiment comme un cauchemar. Ensuite j’ai partagé ce qui m’arrivait dans le cadre de BAK et avec divers groupes de camarades. J’ai raconté la campagne de lynchage et de diffamation dont j’étais l’objet. Ensuite j’ai constaté que c’était presque banal pour les Universitaires pour la Paix : sélection tendancieuse d’une intervention à la radio pour l’un, vidéo hors contexte d’une bribe de cours ou passage d’un article paru je ne sais où… pour l’autre… D’ailleurs, vous connaissez Tuna Altınel5. Lui il est encore en train de faire les frais de ces pratiques… Ce type d’histoires tend à se faire de plus en plus nombreux.

14 Après la décision du Conseil Constitutionnel (AYM) quelle est la situation des Universitaires pour la Paix ? Tout est rentré dans l’ordre ou est en passe de rentrer ? Avez-vous des espoirs de ce côté ?

15 Voilà un sujet très discuté. En juillet 2019, l’AYM a rendu une décision. À la suite de celle-ci, nous avons eu de vifs débats. Nos camarades juristes se sont penchés sur les textes. D’abord il s’agit d’une décision tardive qui reprend ce que nous disions depuis le début. Cela prouve bien que tout était lié à des considérations d’abord politiques. En effet, depuis le début nous soutenions la chose suivante : si vous intentez un procès à ces 1 128 personnes pour le même motif et avec le même acte d’accusation, pourquoi donc est-ce que vous nous jugez individuellement ? Nous voulions premièrement un procès unifié. Et en deuxième lieu, nous voulions être jugés non pas sur la base de l’article invoqué [NDT : relatif à la lutte contre le terrorisme], mais sur celle de l’article 301 [NDT : relatif à la liberté d’expression]. Aucune de nos demandes ne fut prise en compte et les audiences se sont déroulées comme on sait. Tout cela, à l’évidence, pour nous diviser. Puisque, pour la même affaire, alors que d’un côté l’un était acquitté, parallèlement, l’autre écopait d’une peine de prison de 15 mois et un troisième même de plus de 2 ans… Autrement dit, chacun était traité de manière individualisée. Et nous payons encore le prix des conséquences de cette méthode. Aussi, pour en revenir à la décision de l’AYM, qui d’ailleurs n’a été prise qu’à la majorité, elle relève d’une

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inflexion d’ordre politique. C’est pourquoi il nous fallait rester très prudents. Cependant ce fut évidemment une nouvelle réjouissante ! Et qu’on en finisse avec chacun de ces procès par une décision d’acquittement était important. Mais tout cela nous a montré que cette affaire avait été conduite en divisant les personnes à la fois au plan politique, idéologique et pratique, en vue d’empêcher toute stratégie collective de notre part. Ce fut la même chose pour la question des passeports annulés. Actuellement, certains peuvent récupérer leur passeport, mais d’autres ne le peuvent pas. Et il n’y a aucune raison pour cela. Tout ça c’est complètement arbitraire. Il en va de même pour ce qui est du retour à nos fonctions initiales. Pour l’instant, nous avons un très gros problème : nous ne pouvons reprendre notre travail. Nous ne pouvons pas travailler. À l’heure actuelle, comme nous sommes des expulsés par décret-loi, nous ne pouvons toujours pas avoir un travail avec toutes les garanties (comme la sécurité sociale) ; même en dehors du secteur public, il nous est interdit de travailler dans une structure privée et de mener une quelconque activité éducative. Aussi nous essayons de faire quelque chose par nos propres moyens. Nous droits ont été confisqués, et parmi eux le plus important, celui de pouvoir retourner à notre travail. Sur ce point il n’y a aucune avancée. L’État a des réponses qui varient du tout au tout ; on peut s’attendre à tout : certains sont rappelés et réintégrés, certains sont réintégrés pour être licenciés le lendemain, d’autres voient leur requête refusée et ne sont pas appelés à réintégrer leur travail… Nous suivons tout cela.

16 Est-ce que vous avez pu poursuivre vos recherches ? Vous nous avez dit que lorsque vous étiez dans la maison de Zeynep vous alliez à la bibliothèque. Mais après avez-vous pu continuer à le faire ?

17 À cette époque ma motivation était la suivante : la solidarité entre nous est plus importante que tout et je ne me laisserai pas vaincre par la violence exercée contre moi. Je n’ai pas accepté les injonctions du type « Ceux-ci, qu’ils arrêtent de produire, de penser et de travailler » et, forte de cette motivation, j’ai poursuivi mes travaux. Mais après l’épisode de la vidéo dont j’ai parlé, je ne fus pas gardée dans l’université où j’étais inscrite en thèse. De façon informelle, on ne m’a pas autorisée à finir ma thèse dans cette université et j’ai dû changer d’université. Conformément au règlement, il me fallait abandonner le sujet sur lequel je travaillais et m’inscrire avec un autre sujet ; ceci, malheureusement, je n’ai pu le faire que dans une université privée. Cependant, tout compte fait, j’ai pu terminer ma yüksek lisans et produire un certain nombre de travaux de recherche. Ça c’est pour la dimension « universitaire », mais le domaine qui m’importait le plus et pour lequel j’étais prête à dépenser presque toute mon énergie, c’était, au-delà des considérations de carrière, ce que nous essayions d’élaborer collectivement. Ce travail a commencé en fait avant même BIRARADA. Parce que nous avons créé BIRARADA au terme d’un processus précis. Nous organisions des workshops communs avec les Académies de la solidarité de toutes les villes. Nous faisions des recherches sur l’état des universités à travers le monde, sur les nouvelles formes alternatives d’enseignement. Je donnais un peu la priorité à ces travaux entrepris avant BIRARADA. Par exemple à cette époque, je faisais des choses avec les « Sans Campus » : histoire sociale du capitalisme, histoire de l’Empire ottoman à nos jours, littérature, questions sociales…, autant de sujets sur lesquels nous avons conduit plusieurs sortes de travaux.

18 Qui sont les « Sans Campus » ?

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19 C’est aussi une des Académies de la solidarité. Ces académies sont créées sous des noms qui peuvent varier. Par exemple, l’Académie de la solidarité d’Eskişehir se désigne elle- même comme « l’École d’Eskişehir ». Les « Sans Campus » sont une de ces structures. Actuellement, je ne conduis pas de travaux avec eux, mais on peut dire au moins qu’ils ont ouvert la voie, sinon à BIRARADA, du moins à certains d’entre nous. Je pense en effet que dans les temps qui courent c’est au sein de ces structures collectives que sont développés les travaux de plus grande qualité. Par exemple, actuellement, avec un groupe de nos camarades, nous préparons un programme de cours. Lectures universitaires critiques… Par-là, que nous retournions ou non à l’université – dans ce cas, cela se fera hors-les-murs –, nous élaborons un programme de cours de 13 semaines consacré à l’histoire, à la sociologie, voire à l’économie politique des universités. Notre méthode de préparation est à mon sens des plus motivantes. D’abord nous déterminons un titre et des lectures. Nous faisons un appel ouvert et nous nous réunissons en ligne, compte tenu des conditions présentes. Nous déterminons le contenu tous ensemble, plus exactement nous formulons des questionnements. Ceux-ci servent à la fois de questions de travail et de questions qui feront l’objet d’explications en cours. Ceci mis à part, ces temps-ci je vais essayer de préparer mon inscription en thèse pour le mois de juin. Malgré tout, j’accorde de l’importance aux lectures, à l’écriture et à la production et, autant que possible, je m’efforce de travailler dans cette direction.

20 Quels sont les objectifs de l’association BIRARADA ? Pouvez-vous présenter un peu votre association ?

21 C’est le résultat d’un processus qui débuté avant l’apparition de l’association et une affaire pour laquelle nous avons dépensé beaucoup d’énergie mentale. BIRARADA est une association que les Académies de la solidarité ont créée toutes ensemble. Fondamentalement, l’association met l’accent sur la production et le partage libres du savoir, autrement dit sur la mise au service de la société de celui-ci. En outre, et c’est aussi essentiel de notre point de vue, l’objectif est d’assurer une entraide universitaire, professionnelle, sociale et même parfois économique, mais aussi – et c’est le plus important – une entraide politique. Là réside peut-être le plus crucial des rôles assurés par l’association BIRARADA. Enfin, même si cela peut paraître encore un rêve, nous essayons de mettre en place un institut autour des questions que nous avons commencé d’ores et déjà à travailler. Nous voudrions nous constituer en un institut où à la fois nous pourrions produire librement des connaissances, où nous chercherions des voies alternatives pour un partage de celles-ci, des voies plus sociales. En ce qui concerne ce projet, les initiatives sont encore très limitées. Nous en sommes au stade de la réflexion préalable. Nous essayons d’entrer en contact avec des structures qui s’apparenteraient à ce projet. Nous venons dernièrement d’avoir des échanges avec un groupe dénommé « Research Institute on Turkey ». Nous avons pris connaissance de cette expérience qui a pris la forme d’une sorte de coopérative. Nous discutons un peu de tout cela. Peut-on devenir une coopérative pour l’éducation ? Ou alors un institut ou quelque chose comme ça ? BIRARADA, créée officiellement en 2018, est fondamentalement une association qui travaille à produire des connaissances et à développer des solidarités.

22 Quel type d’activités organisez-vous ?

23 Au début on a programmé des séminaires. Nous organisions des séminaires ciblés qui à la fois touchaient des questions sociales et étaient assurés par des personnes en capacité de transmettre leurs connaissances dans le champ concerné. Et puis il y avait

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le Groupe pour une Nourriture verte. Dans ce groupe, des réunions mensuelles ont été organisées sur l’alimentation saine, sur les expériences d’un certain nombre de coopératives, sur le partage des connaissances. C’était une manière d’essayer d’établir des liens avec les mouvements écologistes. Ces activités continuent. Quant aux séminaires de BIRARADA, ils ont évolué un peu de la manière suivante. Les problèmes en Turquie sont sans fin et touchent à des domaines très divers… Nous, nous avons tenté d’initier des débats autour de certains de ces sujets d’actualité. Par exemple, avant la pandémie, nous avons organisé une réunion sur le projet Kanal İstanbul. Bien sûr, les ressources de BIRARADA sont partiellement tributaires des fonds mis à disposition dans le cadre de projets. Nos finances ne tiennent que grâce à des dons et des aides d’institutions internationales liées à l’Union européenne.

24 Les aides continuent à l’heure actuelle ?

25 Nous ciblons nos demandes de fonds en fonction des activités projetées. Jusqu’à présent deux projets financés ont été conduits. Il y a un autre projet pour lequel nous venons de candidater et dont nous attendons les résultats. Si la réponse est positive, cela nous permettra de travailler pendant un an et demi. Malgré tout pour l’instant, nous ne sommes pas une association qui génère ses propres ressources et en mesure de se maintenir par elle-même ; nous sommes une association encore toute jeune. Cela mis à part, chaque membre, après discussion, a la possibilité de conduire dans l’association les activités qu’il souhaite. Nous faisons toujours les lectures académiques critiques, sous le label BIRARADA, mais nous ne les faisons plus seulement entre membres de l’association ; des non-membres peuvent participer.

26 Quelle est la différence entre BIRARADA et les Académies de la solidarité ? Au niveau des travaux conduits et des activités ? Pouvez-vous nous l’expliquer ?

27 Les Académies de la solidarité sont en fait des organisations locales. Par exemple, si l’on regarde Kocaeli Dayanışma Akademisi, cette académie se caractérise par des dynamiques qui sont propres à Kocaeli. Ainsi là-bas les syndicats, les chambres professionnelles et les universités travaillent plus en synergie. Il s’agit d’un groupe plus restreint en termes quantitatifs. Ils peuvent se réunir plus vite, s’organiser et réagir plus vite. C’est pourquoi l’Académie de la Solidarité de Kocaeli est une organisation adaptée à son environnement local. Par exemple, moi je suis membre de l’association BIRARADA et pas de l’Académie de la Solidarité de Kocaeli qui est une structure qui s’adresse plus à ceux qui vivent là-bas, aux gens de là-bas. Alors que des gens de tous les départements peuvent être membres de BIRARADA et qu’il n’est pas nécessaire d’être un Universitaire pour la Paix ou membre d’une Académie de la solidarité. Ce qui n’est pas le cas pour les Académies de la solidarité, pour lesquelles il faut être engagé dans un environnement spécifique. Une autre différence tient au fait que ces académies conduisent des travaux propres à un environnement singulier. Par exemple, celle d’Eskişehir, et cela dès le début, alors qu’il n’existait par ailleurs aucune Académie de la solidarité, a commencé à organiser des enseignements – sous le nom de « cours de la solidarité » – et à les assurer régulièrement. Ainsi elle va assurer son 83e cours la semaine prochaine. À part ça, toujours à Eskişehir, un café (Uçurtma Kafe) a été créé et même un groupe de musique du nom de « Chanson pour la paix ». Nos camarades à Ankara ont fondé une coopérative enseignante. Ils ont commencé à faire cours en ligne. Les premiers temps après l’ouverture, diverses activités étaient assurées avec un programme de cours dense et une forte participation étudiante. Ils se sont constitués en coopérative et ont désormais même la capacité de publier ; ils s’efforcent d’utiliser

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au mieux les opportunités offertes par la forme « coopérative ». À Izmir une association a été créée ; là-bas par exemple il existe une synergie avec la Fondation turque des Droits de l’Homme (TİHV). Dans chaque région, les Académies de la solidarité travaillent en relation avec les institutions de la société civile de l’environnement dans lequel chacune se trouve. BIRARADA, de façon un peu différente de ces dernières, est apparue au terme de débats communs menés dans toutes les Académies de la solidarité, comme « une création commune ». Pour autant, dans les faits, nous n’avons pu entièrement jouer ce rôle. Une association commune a été créée, mais toutes les Académies de la solidarité n’ont pas pu être très activement impliquées par la suite. Et ainsi BIRARADA, de façon centrée sur Istanbul, conduit indépendamment ses propres travaux.

28 Vous essayez de produire des méthodes alternatives d’éducation et de recherche. Que pensez- vous et quelles sont vos discussions à ce propos ?

29 En ce qui concerne l’éducation alternative, nous avons mis en question le terme « alternatif » en lui-même. Nous ne disons pas « alternatif », nous disons « Une autre Université ». Ces réflexions ont d’abord été conduites au cours des ateliers des Académies de la solidarité. De mars 2017 à 2018, nous avons organisé quatre ateliers. Lors de notre premier atelier, nous avons essayé de comprendre les efforts de ceux qui – dans le monde entier et en Turquie, purgés de l’université à notre manière, tenus en marge –, ont recherché des voies pour continuer à travailler, de l’extérieur. En Turquie, avant nous, il y a des expériences comme Bilar et Bilsak6. Nous nous sommes aussi intéressés à ceux qui avaient été chassés de l’université à la suite de la « Pétition des Intellectuels », au lendemain du coup d’État de 1980. À part ça, à l’étranger, il semble qu’en Amérique latine, ces problèmes aient existé plus intensément qu’ailleurs. Un de nos camarades a fait quelques recherches sur ce cas, sur la manière dont là-bas l’éducation s’est développée comme un mouvement social et sur les réalisations concrètes de ce dernier… Ainsi on a diversifié les exemples. Lors d’une séance, on a examiné le cas de New School aux États-Unis. Puis certains exemples en Grèce. On a commencé ainsi ; mais alors on a pris conscience du fait qu’il nous manquait quelque chose, la dimension pédagogique. Comment peut-on donner une éducation ? Comment pouvons-nous faire, qu’il s’agisse des relations entre nous ou de la publicisation de l’enseignement ? Dans le cadre de ces recherches, nous avons organisé un atelier sur la pédagogie, en commençant par la « pédagogie des opprimés » du célèbre Paulo Freire. Des présentations ont été assurées sur Freire et certaines expériences en Union soviétique ainsi que sur l’œuvre Théâtre des Opprimés d’Augusto Boal. La pédagogie féministe compta aussi parmi nos sujets de débats notables. Nous avons essayé de l’analyser. De la sorte, les débats entre nous furent stimulés. Ensuite, nous avons organisé des ateliers pour voir comment appliquer tout cela. Il s’agit là de questions fondamentales. Nous n’avons pas été en mesure de mettre en application quoi que ce soit de correct à ce niveau. Mais même déjà discuter de tout cela nous fait du bien. Bientôt aura lieu la quatrième réunion de notre groupe « Une autre Université » : « Comment organiser l’espace d’une telle université ?», « Quelle est la différence entre université et académie ? », « Quel doit-être l’enseignement dans une telle structure ? », voilà les questions dont nous discutons. La dernière chose que nous projetons, c’est une session où nous discuterions des frontières entre disciplines et des fondements historiques de celles-ci, voire des moyens de dépasser ces frontières. Nous continuons à chercher, nous expérimentons à un niveau très élémentaire.

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30 Vous avez des travaux différents les uns des autres. Cette particularité influence-t-elle le mode de gestion de l’association ? Comment les décisions sont-elles prises ?

31 Ça c’est une question un peu délicate. Comme vous pouvez l’imaginer, c’est un domaine très discuté. Je peux même dire aisément que c’est un domaine que j’aborde avec le bagage des problèmes que j’ai affrontés lorsque je travaillais à l’université. La définition des fonctions des allocataires de recherche dans les universités est très vague. De fait, c’est un peu comme le désire le chef du département… En conséquence, la différence des expériences que nous avons eues se ressent dans notre travail actuel. Comme j’ai eu à souffrir de ces situations floues, je souhaite qu’ici les responsabilités des uns et des autres soient définies, même grossièrement. Il en fut ainsi après la création de l’association. Celle-ci est placée sous l’autorité de la Direction des Associations du département. Toutes les obligations afférentes au statut d’association, comme la rédaction des statuts, la tenue régulière des minutes des réunions sur un cahier, l’enregistrement des membres de l’association, sont prises en charge très inégalement ; ce qui explique que certains finissent par être irrités. Le fait qu’il y ait des postes rémunérés dans l’association fut à l’origine de débats. Puisqu’il a fallu expliquer ce que faisaient et allaient faire ces postes rémunérés. Parce qu’autrement on peut en arriver à une situation où certains ne font rien et d’autres font tout le travail. Sur ces questions nous avons vécu de vifs débats, malheureusement. Sinon, notre approche est à tout moment la suivante : le partage dans la transparence de la rédaction des minutes des réunions concernant par exemple le budget, les décisions et les projets et la participation de tous à ces tâches. Ceci, à mon avis, nous distingue singulièrement. Quelles que soient les circonstances et le sujet, personne ne cache rien à personne. On n’empêche personne de participer et chacun peut dire ce qu’il souhaite. Ceci mis à part, je peux ajouter, parmi les aspects positifs, que nous avons des personnes qui travaillent à temps plein grâce aux financements sur projet obtenus. Dans ce cas, on s’emploie à trouver un équilibre et l’entraide matérielle est assurée sur la base de ce même financement. Nous n’avons pas dérogé à ce principe jusqu’à présent. Depuis deux mois, nous travaillons sur les mécanismes de prise de décision et sur la nécessité d’assurer l’ouverture et la transparence de l’association sans la mettre en péril ; à mon sens, nous sommes arrivés à trouver une bonne formule. La question du consensus et de la rotation des responsabilités est discutée. L’idée est de mettre en place des mécanismes empêchant la spécialisation dans une seule tâche, pour éviter l’apparition d’une hiérarchie fondée sur une spécialisation des savoirs. Ça fait partie des questions sur lesquelles on se penche. J’espère qu’on va arriver à appliquer ces principes. Ça c’est mon avis personnel, mais je pense qu’il est possible de considérer que ces questions sont à l’origine de la totalité des inégalités que nous vivons dans les universités. Personnellement, je ressens la hiérarchie fondée sur l’âge. La hiérarchie des sexes je ne l’ai pas trop éprouvée jusque-là parce que j’appartenais à un groupe actif de femmes. Quand ce type de tendance se faisait sentir nous pouvions intervenir. En revanche, la hiérarchie des âges ou bien celle des statuts à l’université je l’ai vécue. J’espère qu’ici nous pourrons les dépasser.

32 Est-ce que de quelconques pressions s’exercent sur l’association ? Est-ce que vous pouvez faire librement ce que vous souhaitez ? La situation politique du pays vous influence-t-elle négativement ? Si c’est le cas, comment réagissez-vous ? Pratiquez-vous l’auto-censure sur certaines questions ?

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33 Voilà une excellente question. Ces pressions on les ressent sur deux plans. Le premier a trait aux démarches administratives requises par l’État. À ce niveau, des organisations comme la nôtre, peuvent recevoir des amendes pour des raisons très insignifiantes. Par exemple au sujet du cahier de minutes des réunions : pour une page manquante, pour la façon dont le cahier est tenu (ce qu’il faut noter, où le noter et comment), ou à cause d’une information non communiquée au « Bureau des Associations »… Il y a des organisations qui sont confrontées à ces problèmes de façon encore plus grave que nous, comme par exemple Kaos GL. L’État exerce en permanence des pressions à ce niveau. Comme nous en sommes conscients, nous travaillons avec des comptables et des avocats. Et nous tenons bien régulièrement ces cahiers, de façon à ne pas prêter le flanc aux critiques et à opérer conformément aux règles en vigueur. À ce niveau, c’est la seule mesure que l’on prend ; d’ailleurs on ne peut pas faire autre chose. Mais en ce qui concerne les pressions d’ordre politique, deux mois après la création de l’association nous avons été confrontés à un de ces problèmes. Cette association est pleine d’Universitaires pour la Paix expulsés ou non et d’universitaires peu favorables au gouvernement en situation exposée dans leur université. Deux mois après la création de l’association, une décision a été rendue par le « Bureau des Associations ». Il a été exigé de tous nos membres que leur adresse, leur numéro de téléphone et leur numéro d’identité fussent enregistrés dans la base du Bureau. On a discuté de ça entre nous. Pourquoi l’État fait-il une telle chose ? S’il le veut d’ailleurs, il peut aisément accéder à ces données ; aussi est-il un peu inquiétant qu’il nous demande à nous de fournir ces informations aussi basiques que l’adresse personnelle. Après discussions en interne, consultation d’avocats et après avoir demandé l’avis de chacun de nos membres, on a fini par se dire que si nous ne le faisions pas nous allions prendre une amende. Nous étions obligés. Aussi n’avons-nous pas livré de combat sur cette question. Malheureusement les défenseurs des droits avaient déjà tellement de travail, vu l’époque… et nous n’étions pas très familiers de tous ces sujets. Ensuite nous avons établi des liens avec la Fondation pour les recherches sociales et même avec la municipalité de Kadıköy. Depuis l’été dernier nous produisons une série de travaux qui sont dans nos compétences en collaboration avec cette municipalité et selon moi c’est vraiment important. À part ça, nous avons commencé à suivre les travaux de la plateforme des défenseurs des droits en Turquie qui comprend des institutions comme İHD, TİHV ou Hafıza Merkezi. De telle sorte, quand des problèmes de ce type apparaissent, nous savons au moins à qui et où s’adresser pour demander conseil. Au début nous ne le savions pas. À mon avis ces contacts sont importants. S’il nous arrive la moindre chose, ces institutions nous permettront de rendre publique notre cause et de faire valoir nos droits. Je ne sais pas si c’est nécessaire de le repréciser, mais l’association n’a pas de prétention d’ordre politique. Nous avons certains débats sur des sujets précis, mais nous ne nous engageons pas dans le registre de la défense des droits. Nous ne développons pas de discours d’ordre politique. Par exemple, quand la crise du Corona virus a commencé, j’ai proposé en conseil de gestion de faire une déclaration publique à ce sujet. Les étudiants étaient négativement impactés, les travailleurs continuaient à aller au travail, et notre vie était exposée aux risques… Dans ce contexte, nous ne savions pas ce que nous ferions si la police venait frapper à notre porte pour nous placer en garde à vue. Nous sommes confrontés à ce genre de problème. J’avais ainsi proposé de préparer un petit texte expliquant tout cela publiquement et formulant nos revendications ; mais cette suggestion n’a pas été acceptée. Il est admis que comme nous sommes un groupe hétérogène composé de personnes aux opinions

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politiques variées, on se tient éloignés de tout discours politique. La ligne sur laquelle se positionne BIRARADA est donc la suivante : celle d’une institution qui promeut la solidarité universitaire mais qui n’a pas de prétention d’ordre politique, d’une institution qui a certains débats en interne et qui se maintient par le biais de financements sur projet.

34 Si vous avez le soutien de la municipalité de Kadıköy, cela ne constitue-t-il pas un lien politique ?

35 En effet. C’est une municipalité CHP depuis des années qui s’est distinguée ces derniers temps par de sérieuses performances. Nous nous sommes rendus à la municipalité de Kadıköy avec certaines propositions en disant : « Nous sommes une association de ce type. Nous comptons en notre sein des universitaires qui travaillent sur telle et telle questions : particulièrement sur le genre, les migrations, les profils de ville, la vieillesse ; nous pouvons conduire des recherches pour vous et travailler avec vous sur certains de ces aspects. » Et ils ont accepté parce que cela répondait, je crois, à certains de leurs besoins. Ils n’avaient pas vraiment d’équipe à disposition pour conduire ce genre de travaux. Et nous avons juste comblé cette lacune. Ensuite cette relation s’est développée. Au cours de la pandémie, les choses ont été comme suspendues, mais ils restent ouverts à l’idée d’activités communes et aux propositions. Par exemple, nous avons pu demander un bus à la municipalité pour nous rendre au procès de Tuna, ce qu’elle a accepté de faire.

NOTES

1. Voir le site Internet de l’association : http://biraradadernek.org 2. Les académies de la solidarité ont été créées dans différentes villes pour proposer des espaces alternatifs à l’université, en vue de permettre le maintien sans entrave d’une formation et d’une éducation. 3. Le collectif “Universitaires pour la paix” (BAK) a été fondé en novembre 2012 à la suite d’une déclaration soutenant les demandes de paix des prisonniers kurdes en Turquie alors exprimées à travers une grève de la faim. Aujourd’hui, ce que l’on appelle les Universitaires pour la paix sont les signataires de la pétition "Nous ne serons pas complices de ce crime !", rendue publique en janvier 2016. Site web des universitaires pour la paix : https://barisicinakademisyenler.net/ English 4. Mehmet Fatih Traş est un universitaire qui avait été limogé de la faculté d’économie et des sciences administratives du département d’économétrie de l’Université de Çukurova après avoir signé la pétitition pout la paix. 5. Tuna Altınel est un mathématicien de l’université de Lyon I, signataire de la pétition pour la paix qui s’est fait arrêter et incarcérer lors d’un séjour en Turquie avant d’être acquitté en janvier 2020. 6. Ces sont des ateliers culturels et artistiques qui ont été créés à partir des années 1980.

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AUTEURS

EMINE SEVIM

Emine Sevim, âgée de 36 ans, membre de l’association BİRARADA (Bilim, Sanat, Eğitim, Araştırma ve Dayanışma Derneği), est actuellement doctorante en sociologie sur la transformation des universités en Turquie.

European Journal of Turkish Studies, 30 | 2020