On academic kindness

Here are some thoughts from a practical idealist:

We need academic kindness, and we need it not to protect people’s sensibilities, but to make the most of academic structures.

I abhor saccharine and fake niceties. I get stressed in artificially cosy spaces. A blanket and a warm cup of chockie will make me sleepy, not thoughtful. That’s not what I’ll defend here. I want to make a case for the kind of kindness that allows for complex conversations.

I’m in academia because I believe in thorough and demanding conversation. I love thinking together. My expanded brain is not (only) made of machines, but of other human brains, of a vast network of vastly diverse views, ideas, and ways of thinking. When I consider I’ve come up with a good idea, I do two things: one, I look for what others have said on the topic; two, I run it through other scholars whose judgement and good will I trust.

I am not in academia to come up with grand statements. I despise lone shooters and rockstars. I’m here to better understand the small parcel of the world I inhabit, and to expand it as much as possible. I agree with philosopher Carlos Fernández Liria: there is no greater authority on a matter than two or more scholars discussing it in the open. This is why I’m a scholar and not, say, an essayist (I do dabble in essay writing from time to time, but even then I almost never reach big conclusions. Things are always a work in progress).

I accept invitations to review, chair tracks, host, and organise stuff as much as my limited time and capacity allows me to. In time, I’ve come to realise that being in committees, organising conferences, putting organisations together, or editing books, series, or journals comes down, in the end, to dealing with people, listening to them, looking up for ways of using their talents, and fostering communities.

We need to be kind not out of a sense of softness, not as to avoid offending or angering anyone, but because thinking together requires a cordial space where our guards are not always up. Oh, and spaces matter, even if they are symbolic or virtual. The same way we cannot think properly in a noisy place, we cannot use our critical skills in a hostile environment.

In my decade and a half in academia, I’ve met people that are aggressive, people who mistake authority with authoritarianism, who aim to be intimidating because they think that’s a part of being rigourous and profound. I care little for these people. They are, thankfully, a minority, and an easy one to avoid.

I’ve met more people that are open, candid, inquisitive, people that show you how they build arguments in their head and let you participate in the process, people that are willing to get in the mess and funk of your own ideas to help you sort things out. These are usually the better scholars.

Navigating academia with these compasses is still hard, but it has led me to refine my phronesis and instincts and immensely enjoy what I do. I love it when a strict but caring reviewer pushes me to rewrite a text almost in full. When there can be real philosophical plumbing. When ideas are brainstormed, discarded, reworked, iterated, saved, killed. When I manage to help someone. When I manage to be helped.

Academic kindness is not neglect of duties. On the contrary, it is setting up the scene to do our scholarly duties to the best of our abilities.

I prefer to be Paddington than Doctor Strange. I prefer to live by the words of two of the wisest dudes in American cinema: “Be excellent to each other!”

Be kind to be better scholars.