Professors

Rain slanted in diagonal streaks across the concrete flanks of the Aula of a university in the west of the country. The building – a brutalist flagship from the 1960s – stood there heavy and unyielding, more of a statement than an invitation. A thoroughly Dutch school of architecture: raw concrete, masculine.

Professor Roef Lammeding was sitting in his usual place in the Senate Chamber, just outside the Rector’s direct line of sight, but close enough to the exit to allow an unobtrusive escape to the lavatory during protracted meetings.

Rector De Kaecke (whose name would live on in the term kaeckistocracy, later simplified to kakistocracy) opened the meeting. “You will no doubt have taken note of the latest figures. Once again, we find ourselves … er … at the bottom.” He smiled. “We do not regard this as a constructive contribution. The report is disappointing and unnecessary. We do, of course, acknowledge that there is room for some improvement. This issue has our undivided attention. We are devoting all our energy to it. As a learning university, we must start at the beginning. We are proud of our ambitious Action Plan.”

The Plan contained no concrete actions, but that was precisely its strength

The Plan contained no concrete actions, but that was precisely its strength. Everyone could project their own interpretation onto it.

“Today we would like to hear your reflections.” He cast an inviting glance around the circle of professors. Most leafed through their papers. One or two studied an imaginary stain on the table with great concentration. Someone coughed.

Lammeding had skimmed the report – diagonally, as one does with theses by candidates who are going to pass anyway. He had not yet reached the Action Plan.

The Rector broke the silence. “I want to emphasise that, as the Executive Board, we feel responsible for a balanced composition of our professorial staff. At the same time, it is important to recognise that the overview does not in all cases present a complete picture. There is no correction for disciplines, international context … Some of the conclusions are … robust.” He pronounced the word as if he were discussing the strength of coffee. No one challenged the semantic slip.

“If I may,” said Professor Jold Ongerief, turning a page, “I would like to start with the methodology. We are being compared here with institutions that have very different disciplinary profiles. That’s comparing apples with … well … abstract apples. If you correct for the fact that we almost exclusively cover hard sciences, then I think it all looks rather better.” There was a murmur of satisfied approval. Methodological criticism was the safest form of resistance.

“We need to frame this very carefully,” Professor Knel Damstra chimed in, “we don’t want to give the impression that we have too few female professors. We want to emphasise that we are extremely selective when it comes to awarding such positions.”
The rector nodded gratefully. “Exactly,” he said. “That is why we must be careful not to focus on league tables. We don’t want tokenism. We select on quality. That is the core of our narrative.”

Several others joined in. Someone praised the attention paid to ‘targeted training for female talent’; another applauded the fact that ‘people were really listened to during the drafting of the Action Plan’.

“And let us not forget,” Ongerief added, “that some women simply don’t want this job – the pressure, the responsibility. I hear that quite often. Perhaps it’s even a compliment: our bar is set high.”

No one could really object to this, Lammeding thought

Professor Abe Paap, with his media-friendly lab and impressive network in The Hague, raised his hand.
“I would like to begin by saying,” he said slowly, “that I think it is important to look ahead. We can debate at length how this overview came about, but it exists in the here and now. And yes, someone always has to come last. That’s statistics.” He smiled at the rector. “Above all, we need to ensure that we continue to speak with one voice externally. And that, in all discussions on this topic, we keep emphasising that quality always comes first for us. We do not appoint people simply to polish the figures.” His voice was measured, his words reasonable. No one could really object to this, Lammeding thought.

The still relatively young Professor Eva Dumorbier ventured a nuance. “Perhaps it would help if, in appointments, we looked a bit more consciously at whom we invite to apply, and whom we ask to serve on committees.” Ongerief smiled her gently away. “But that would suggest that our procedures are flawed,” he said. “I would be very careful with that message. Before you know it, people might think our female colleagues aren’t here on merit.”

“That would be truly unsafe,” Paap added. Laughter. The room visibly relaxed. That topic had blown over.

In the inside pocket of his jacket, Lammeding felt the note he had written, with a few points he might possibly raise. But he sensed the moment slipping away. The window in which he could have said something more pointed closed silently.

He thought of the young colleague who had told another colleague that she preferred not to go to HR “because then I’m finished here”. “Shouldn’t you say something about that?” his wife had asked that morning while he was shaving. “You are, after all, on the Senate.” But it was complicated. He also bore responsibility for his group, his projects, his people. You achieve more by ‘staying at the table’, as the phrase goes.

“Then I propose,” the Rector said cheerfully, “that we, as the Senate, express our support for the Action Plan, naturally with the necessary caveats regarding further elaboration. In the meantime, TU Delft’s Programme Team will prepare a factsheet. This will explain that the low proportion of female professors is related to the intense international competition for female talent.”

The relief that no real discussion had taken place was almost tangible

The relief that no real discussion had taken place was almost tangible.

After the meeting, the Rector briefly approached Lammeding. “Thank you for your support,” he said. “It’s very important that the Senate goes along with this in such a responsible manner. That reflects well externally. Especially with those annual … er … overviews.” Lammeding nodded. “Of course,” he said politely. “We all do our bit.”

On his desk lay an email from a young lecturer, asking whether he might have a final look at a paper. Lammeding glanced at his phone, then at the door, then back at the screen. He replied that he was sorry, but that he was extremely busy at the moment with committee work and deadlines. He pressed send, leaned back, and closed his eyes. “Nearly Christmas,” he thought, looking forward to the delicious venison meatballs his wife always prepared at that time of year.

The meeting had exhausted him. “The things you have to concern yourself with these days,” he sighed.
“Someone really ought to write a book about this university!”