Mama, PhD

Next week I am off to Honduras to do my research fieldwork.  Although I am crazy busy at the moment  juggling home and research preparations, I thought it would be a good time to review Mama, PhD, an anthology of essays by academic Mums (actually Moms, they’re all US Americans).  

I bought the book last year, having followed the Mama, PhD blog for a while, looking for some insights into how others have managed the precarious balancing act that is being a mother and being an academic.  And a precarious act it certainly seems to be. The overwhelming impression I came away with was that maintaining both a family and an academic position is hugely challenging, and at in some cases the two are simply incompatable.  This was neatly summed up by my sister, who is neither an academic nor a mother, after I caught her reading the book and teased her about it.  She laughed and commented that it was kind of like watching a road crash.  It’s often horrific, but you just can’t look away. 

I couldn’t look away either, the writing is compelling with a mix of humor, emotion and insight.  It lays bare the patriarchy of academia, and the reality of work in an environment that seems to still be adjusting to the presence of women.  Over and over the contributors write of the difficulty getting sufficient maternity leave and the lack of childcare facilities.  They also write of the need to disconnect themselves from mothering when at work, of being ignored or worse by collegues, and of missed opportunities and compromises made.  In Scholar, Negated Jessica Smart Gullion writes of how her Sociology department, her “feminist enclave”, attempted to kick her out because she was pregnant.  The reality of the institution seems to override the rhetoric of feminism and equal opportunity. 

Fortunately for me, this has not been my experience so far.  Maybe I have drawn the lucky straw when it came to choosing a university.  Or maybe New Zealand universities are ahead of the US in thier approach to motherhood. I think mostly I have had the great fortune of having supervisors (advisors) who are both mothers, and of being surrounded by an awesome community of female staff and students.  When my husband wasn’t well last week, I had no hesitation in taking my daughter with me to campus.  She sat though an hour long presentation quietly with her crayons and books, but even if she had been disruptive I know the rest of the room (all bar one also Mums) would have been fully understanding.  My daughter knows her way to my office at the “versity”, knows several of the staff and students, and is always made a fuss of when she drops in for a visit.  Conversations over lunch range comfortably from post-structural analyses of development theory to toilet training techniques. And if I am late turning in work or unable to attend a meeting the excuse my daughter is sick is perfectly acceptable.

I do share with the contributors to Mama, PhD a frustration in finding enough time to give to my PhD and to my daughter.  I know the guilt associated with leaving my child in the care of others 4-5 days per week.  I am enormously grateful for on-campus childcare, government subsidies to pay for that childcare, and that my daughter loves her childcare centre, but I still wallow in guilt at times, especially after a visit to stay-at-home Mum friends with perfect (and clean!) homes and home-cooked meals every night. While this frustration and guilt is not unique to academia, Mama, PhD has made me more aware of the peculiarities of academic work, and how motherhood impinges on that – such as the need to be intellectual, and to have space to think.

While many of the contibutors have negotiated, or are successfully negotiating an academic career while rasing a family, many have also left academia or gone to ‘non-traditional’ jobs.  It is abundantly clear from reading Mama, PhD that if the academic community wants to attract and retain great teachers and researchers, they need to address the issue of patriarchal and outdated systems that make motherhood and academic life so difficult for many.  This is I believe the strength of the book.  While it is an interesting read (with plenty of laughs thrown in – anyone game to let undergraduate males choose thier child’s name?), it is the underlying commentary on the institution of academia that is most powerful – and necessary.  

After reading some of the essays my sister has no desire to become an academic or a mum.  I on the other hand continue to have no regrets about either.  Reading Mama, PhD has opened my eyes to both the wider community of Mums in academia and the challenges they face, and to the potential pitfalls and challenges I may have to face in the future.  Here’s hoping that whereever  find myself working I will continue to feel the same support I do now.  If not, at least I know I will not be alone.

Filed under: Book review, academia, parenting, phd

CauseWired

A while back I wrote a post titled Letters> email> facebook, which was inspired by the book CauseWired by Tom Watson.  I have now finally finished reading it – the delay being related to the amount of time I have for reading and my reading priorities rather than book itself.  It is in fact a very readable book, and an excellent introduction to the world of online causes and digital philanthropy.  The text is littered with example of organisations and groups using the Internet in unique and exciting ways, and I have used more of my thesis work time looking these up online than I probably should have!  The discussion is also enlivened by  Watson’s long experience in the sector and the fact that he knows, or has met, many of the personalities involved.  This means he is able to bring a personal face to the topic and to the, and is well placed to bring an engaging insider perspective.

That said, I found the book to be highly uncritical of the changes it discussed -with the problems of distributing the causewired future relegated to a few pages at the end of the book.  While acknowledging that this is not meant to be an academic book (and I also admit I am now well immersed in the academic genre), I found the book to be over-enthusiastic in many places.  Watson is quite rightly, very enthusiastic about the potential of online social networks to bring about social change.  But while he has written a book about activism and philanthropy and saving the world, he has missed arguably the most important voice of all – that of the recipients of this attention, the poor and disconnected.  

Actually, that is not entirely true. Watson argues that the peer-to-peer nature of wired causes and digital philanthropy has the potential to reduce the distance between the donors and activists, and the communities and people they are trying to help.  This means that donors can choose who thier money goes to (the Kiva model for example), or get up-to-the minute micro-reports on projects they support.  This could well be true, and a is almost certainly a step in the right direction.  However I am concerned that Watson does not examine the potential pitfalls of the causewired revolution, for example the underlying power issues inherant in donor – recipient relationships, the issues of access to technology (in both developed and developing countries those that have access to technology – or to an organisation that has – have power, those that don’t are further marginalised), and the potential problems created when a recipient community or organisation does not have the capacity to use the increased funds and resources appropriately.  Maybe he’s leaving all that to an academic, but I think these are all issues Western donors and activists need to be aware of, and shouldn’t be relegated to dry academic books.

The last sentence in the book is perhaps the most profound for me.  After all the hype over wired causes, Watson quotes William Gibson – “The future is already here; it’s just not evenly distributed”.  As with all proposed solutions for global poverty and injustice, the lack of change is probably related not to the lack of good ideas, but to underlying issues of inequality and power that mean the solutions never actually fulfil their potential.  As Watson argues, it is still early days for the causewired movement.  While it is almost certainly raising awareness of global issues and inspiring a new generation of social entrepreneurs and philanthropists, only time will tell if the peer-to-peer model and long reach of the digital medium will lead to any significant change in the lives of the poor and disempowered.

Filed under: Book review, ethical living, internet, social justice , causes, CauseWired, digital philanthropy, internet, Tom Watson

Three Cups of Tea

I have just finished reading Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Fight Terrorism and Build Nations. . . One School at a Time by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin. I’ve been thinking for a while that I should post some book reviews here and this seemed a good place to start.

Three Cups of Tea is about Greg Mortenson and his mission to build schools for girls in Pakistan and Afganistan. After a failed attempt to climb K2, the second highest peak in the world, Mortenson recuperated in a mountain villiage. It was there he became aware of the lack of schools in the region and made a promise to come back to that villiage to build a school. That promise was eventually met, and Morenton is now the director of the Central Asia Institute, building schools in Pakistan and Afganistan.

I approached the book with some reservation. If nothing else several years of study in Development Studies has made me very wary of “do-gooders”. As others have noted, there is a strong element of imperialism in the idea of of an American’s mission to “fight terrorism and build nations” and I was quite ready to be critical about it. However I am happy to admit I really enjoyed and was inspired by the book. As Relin writes- “Supposedly objective reporters are at risk of being drawn into his orbit… The more time I spent watching Mortenson work, the more convinced I became that I was in the presence of something extraordinary.” Mortenson appears to have a genuine humanitarian motivation and a deep affection for the people he works with.

I was surprised as I read the book to note that many of the paper lessons I learned about “doing development” were the lessons Mortenson learned through his work and his mistakes. “Participation” is one of the biggest buzzwords in development today and this is what Mortenson learned, and one hopes, how CAI continues to practise. This is what the three cups of tea is all about. Of particular note was Mortenson’s agreement to build a bridge first, rather than a school, as this was what the community felt was needed. Then, following the completion of the first school Mortenson took an ill advised side trip into an area where he had no contacts. The lesson learned- to never go anywhere alone, and to allow the local people to guide decisions about where to go next, is immensely important.

I was also surprised how much I learned from the book about Pakistan and Afganistan, and about the “war on terror”. This is the result of Mortenson’s unique perspective as a trusted American in that region, with close relationships with local leaders and communities. The background and behind-the-scenes information, and the easy to follow explanations of complicated religious and political problems is worth the read of itself.

I do however a have a few niggles with the book. While acknowledging it was never written as a academic text I found the overwhelming positivity somewhat unrealistic. Whereever “outsiders” come in to do development or aid work, there are both positive and negative consequences, one just hopes the positive outweigh the negative. I believe in this case it certanly does, but a more rounded discussion of the work would have been good.

And there is, possibly unavoidably, a touch of imperialism. Mortenson is American. He started out as a penniless individual who wanted to help but he now leads a growing organisation with a significant budget. I hope he continues to maintain the relationships that take this organisation above being just another development project.

Overall, I highly recommend this book, taken with just the tinest little grain of salt to aid digestion.

Filed under: Book review, blogging, development, social justice