Hard Power, Soft Power, No Power
I have just finished Nicola Sturgeon’s autobiography, Frankly. It’s not a perfect autobiography, nor was she a perfect leader, but throughout it I was fascinated by her perspective on events I had experienced as a young woman in Scotland.
She talks about the speech she gave after the Brexit referendum. I remember it well. We were sitting with a laptop in the café in the Roslin building, hugging a French student, listening to Sturgeon say that all Europeans were welcome here. It was exactly what we needed to hear, and I remember the relief at hearing someone speak sense. At someone in power saying something I agreed with.
A little while later, I was taking part in the Aurora Scheme for women leaders in Higher Education. One of our exercises included bringing some photos of female leaders we looked up to. I brought Princess Leia, and Nicola Sturgeon. When I mustered the courage to place a political and very partisan leader on the table, the women around my table became animated. Yes, we agreed. She was a good example of a female leader. We liked her strength. Harder to recognise that, than a fictional princess, it seemed.
Throughout Frankly, I get the sense that Sturgeon uses ‘soft power’ when it’s available. One of my takeaways from Aurora was the provocation: “lets make leadership more like us, instead of making us into the leaders that exist today”. I have tried with my own leadership practice to be the kind of leader I think needs to exist, not just the leader I have seen be successful.
For me, this includes radical acceptance of what students tell me, giving colleagues brutally honest advice about how I did continue to work in maternity leave, and telling colleagues when to big themselves up more. I think these acts make a difference. I hope they do.
Power is a tricky thing. Withholding my labour to make a point is a particular kind of power. Being open and honest about my perspectives is another kind of power.
If had a penny for every time I returned from maternity leave and went on strike, I’d have two pennies. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird its happened twice. The Universities and Colleges Union has asked me to withdraw my labour a lot. Sometimes its worked. Sometimes, I haven’t been so sure. I remain unconvinced about strike as a long term strategy for academia, because I do believe the cost to the individual is too high. Strike doesn’t just cost us financially (yes, we do not get paid when we are on strike), but in terms of time, projects, reputation, and ultimately our careers. When I have to make the decision to down my tools, I have to balance my reluctance to damage my career with the privilege I have to make this decision at all.
It has been particularly hard this time, where I know I am impacting my students and colleagues on IAWEL. But at the same time, I already see some of my most valued and productive colleagues being told their jobs are at risk of redundancy. In some ways, I have power here too. I run a successful programme, with colleagues who should be relatively safe. Indeed, my recent parental leave gives me relatively more protection than most. But while I think there are questions to be asked about the quantity and quality of programme offerings, I do not believe a university should only offer what is popular. We are here to further knowledge, not to make the numbers in the spreadsheet go up. And the financial justifications for the compulsory redundancies are weak.
I have utilised my hard power as an elected member of Senate by co-authoring papers protesting the actions of Senior Leadership. I have utilised my hard power as Director of Quality Assurance and Enhancement for my school by noting the impact these cuts are having on our provision. I am going to utilise my hard power to withdraw my labour.
But I think one of the ways I can exercise some soft power here, is to explain a little about why I am going on strike. The feelings we have around a situation are important. And I do regret it deeply. I feel very bad for the colleagues and students who will be impacted by my actions.
So, if my absence from work inconveniences you, discomforts you, or otherwise makes your life difficult . . .
Well you may just have found the fucking point.