University Cuts Could Expose Iniquity Of Casual Contracts

This is a nervous time for public sector workers. Having been warned continually since the coalition took over in May that we can expect dramatic public sector cuts, in the 20 October spending review we will learn more about where the axe is likely to fall. While the TUC prepares for mass strike action, many of those at the sharp end of the cuts seem to await the cull with a kind of sullen acceptance that the good times are over.
Yet some of us never really experienced the good times. There are a whole mass of workers who await not the replacement of a decent job with insecurity, but of an insecure job with even more insecurity.
Such is the case for many of us in higher education. The past couple of decades saw a dramatic expansion of the university system and some notable pay increases after the austerity of the 1980s. They also saw the growth of casualisation: British universities rely on a host of lecturers and researchers, living from short-term contract to contract, never being able to plan ahead from one year to the next. While there have been attempts to address this situation through rules requiring universities to find permanent jobs for those who have been on temporary contracts for a certain period, this has often meant that universities cease employing temporary staff before these provisions kick in.
Such has been my situation since completing my sociology PhD in 2001. Through a mixture of design, ill health and bad luck, I have never held a full-time permanent academic post. Instead, I have held a series of positions: visiting fellowships, visiting lectureships, sessional lectureships and temporary research contracts, as well doing freelance consultancy and writing. Don’t get me wrong: I’ve done some exciting research and teaching, published widely and I love all the work I do. Indeed, the flexibility of my life means I never get stuck in a rut and I have the freedom to pursue interesting and sometimes quirky projects.
There is a massive downside, though. Not the least of which is that academic status and recognition depends, in part, on activities that are unpaid – reviewing papers for journals, editing books, putting in grant applications, going to conferences – and that without a permanent position require considerable sacrifices to pursue. Above all, there is the constant gut-churning anxiety that comes from never knowing whether you are going to be earning money in the future.
So the upcoming cuts heap further anxiety on my insecure life and the lives of those in similar positions.
At the same time, it’s possible that higher education cuts may lead to a superficial improvement in my situation. If full-time staff are culled, it’s conceivable there will be a greater need for part-time staff and those of us who are used to this kind of work may benefit. Alternatively, those of us who are hanging on in academia by our fingertips may be the first to go.
What I hope, though, is that if many of those hitherto comfortably employed have to suffer the insecurity that some of us have suffered for years, perhaps the post-cuts university system will rebuild itself in a way that resists casualisation when the good times return.