The Bullying is Coming from Inside the House…

Academia is toxic, and bullying is rampant. There’s even a wikipedia page devoted to the subject. It’s always been that way, whether it’s “publish or perish,” or the old boys’ network, or faculty behaving abusively towards graduate students. You can read more about such things here or here (or a zillion other places, tbh).

With so many examples of workplace bullying in institutions of higher education, what makes my circumstances worth discussing? I’m not so special. And, in many ways, the situation at WPU isn’t unique either. Still, I think it’s important to be open about the perfect storm of toxic academic culture, combined with authoritarian, top-down, business-model union leadership that has been the norm at my former institution for far too long. It’s absolutely worth discussing why those things are problematic—for faculty, staff, and students, and even the labor movement in higher ed more broadly.

(Note: if you haven’t already, please take a moment to read my disclaimer/caveat/inoculation post. Although I am critical of specific strategic choices at WPU, I still believe that active unions driven by grassroots democracy are the best tool to address the problems faced by 21st century academic workers.)

In N.K. Jemison’s book, How Long ‘Til Black Future Month?, there’s a fantastic story called “The Ones Who Stay and Fight.” The first time I left academia—to work for the UAW, organizing at Columbia—it was because I wanted to do just that. I believed—and I still do—that academic workers know best what they need in their institutions. And I believed that organizing academic unions was one way to approach the kind of inclusion that might improve the toxic culture. For instance, let’s say there’s a female-identifying PhD candidate, working as a teaching or research assistant for the university, who is the first in her family to seek higher education. She doesn’t have access to generational wealth or powerful personal connections, and she has a family because she got married right out of high school and later returned for her bachelor’s degree. Maybe she also personally identifies as a member of a minoritized group, adding to her chances of being discriminated against. A well-designed union contract could give that person a living wage, access to healthcare and childcare, and a legitimate grievance procedure and/or recourse in the case of a problem with her employer. It’s not a perfect solution, but it seemed to me like more academic unions would be step in the right direction.

So, when I was lucky enough (and it really was a fair amount of luck, plus the privilege of connections) to land a tenure-track job at a university that had a faculty and staff union, I thought, “Perfect! I can engage in all the types of work that I find fulfilling and maybe with a union, we workers can have some real power in shared governance on campus.” Reader, I am so very sad to report that’s not how it turned out. (More in Episode IV if you missed it.)

In December, 2020, after I had left my official position as an organizer for the local union, I learned that threats had been made against me. Specifically, I was threatened (by union leadership) with being “denounced publicly.” So, it was an intentional campaign against me as an individual, coming from within the union. The head bully—president of the local for nearly 20 years—developed a fascinating narrative around all of this, one in which she played the victim. The message was simple: Maggie has a personal vendetta. Certainly an effective talking point, particularly when there was no opportunity to counter it or defend myself. (Our remote membership meetings were on strict lockdown. Webinar format with no open chat).

In meeting after meeting, there were references to “some people” who have “personal issues” with union leadership. Sometimes the attacks were directed at the Solidarity Caucus more broadly or other vocal colleagues, and sometimes they were just about me as an individual. Words like “delusional” and “ineffective” got thrown around a lot, but I think the worst day was when the president of my union actually said she didn’t care if “some people wanted to be the first on the unemployment line.”

Why didn’t I go to HR, or report this higher up within the union, you ask? Honestly, it’s because I support the union! I know which side I’m on. So I sucked it up and tolerated the endless tantrum. Some folks believed her, of course. They thought that I was just disgruntled and trying to sabotage the union. Meanwhile, more than 1/3 of the full-time faculty had joined the Caucus and we were gaining new members after every abusive screaming fest (a.k.a “membership meeting”).

You see, when COVID struck, and our meetings had to go remote, there were suddenly a lot more questions directed to the Exec Board of our local. They were assertive questions, and they came from workers wanting a more robust strategic discussion. Political scientists, labor historians, scholars of social justice who teach and research about activist movements, and trained and experienced organizers like me wanted a voice within our local union. Many of us had been at WPU for more than a decade, and we fully understood that the decisions about who would be laid off were being made locally. The negotiations taking place were between our local union and the WPU Administration—this was not a statewide issue. (And I sincerely hope it doesn’t become one.)

Several of us had even submitted a written request to establish committees outlined in our local constitution, committees that hadn’t been convened in years. That formal request was met with accusations of circulating a petition to undermine leadership. In reality, we were asking to incorporate faculty and staff expertise about our own areas of the university in the union’s negotiation positions. We also hoped that we might increase the size of the negotiating team, put a little more pressure on the administrators. We were repeatedly denied access and accused of sabotage. Leadership seemed to assume that I—the great and powerful Oz—had planted all those questions in the chat. But those member voices were genuine.

There were so many assumptions, and just so much yelling.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I shy away from intense strategic discussions. Those can get emotional, and I’ve worked with some strong union leaders who can be challenging in their own ways. They’re not always sweet and kind, and we don’t all need to be friends. What we do need is respect, and maybe a little empathy and human kindness. Not captive audience meetings where uncomfortable questions or comments are deleted from the chat.

So, no, the formation of the Caucus was not some sort of personal grudge. On the contrary, it’s a common strategy for generating change within a local union. The problems started when members’ actions were interpreted by leadership as personal attacks. We were faced with that stereotypical academic bully who has made her way through the world throwing empty accusations at colleagues and belittling people by claiming to be workers’ “only hope.” (She actually said that too. I guess she, alone, can fix it?) In the end, all of that vitriol achieved absolutely nothing in terms of union power. The drama and threats just made faculty and staff question the value of having a union at all. Watching people pull their union cards because of this person’s aggression was particularly awful. All that does is weaken the union, and negatively impact the academic labor movement overall.

Which brings me to the reason I’m posting this now: There will be an election in my former local union soon. Needless to say, I’m rooting for a change. If higher education in the United States is going to survive the rising authoritarian movements bombarding it from all sides, academic workers need strong democratic unions to have a real voice in shared governance. Academic unions cannot continue to function like businesses, focusing exclusively on economic issues and conducting closed-door negotiations that don’t take rank-and-file member voices into account. Academic workers need leaders who will listen and guide, not bully and belittle. I still have hope for the amazing folks who work at my former institution, and I absolutely stand with those who choose to STAY and FIGHT.

Solidarity Forever.