From the bottom up

At the University Of Sofia, Bulgaria, I played several roles during the course of almost 10 years. I was a student (Bachelor, Master, and PhD), a researcher, and a teacher. I learned and taught, applied for funding, did field work, lab work, and data analysis, and wrote research papers, a Master’s, and then a Doctor’s thesis. I list all this not to brag, but to illustrate the different perspective I had not only on the community in the University, but also on the academic community in general, since I had connections from several other Institutes in Bulgaria.

As my academic journey advanced, I started aligning and imitating my colleagues. Without knowing it explicitly, I changed my character to fit in with what I perceived as theirs. I became a bit cynical and a bit entitled, viewing the field I worked in as unbelievably important and crucial, by which I viewed my own research work and myself as important and essential.

This was the case for some of the researchers I met, and now I know my idea of their character was an oversimplified one. However, it is indisputable that the feeling of self-importance was flowing about like a mist in the hallways, laboratories, lecture rooms, and administrative offices. More so, the outside world seems not to appreciate the expertise of these people with Dr. and Prof. in front of their names.

“The government poorly financed research work and was not sensitive to the environment’s needs. Businesses were crooked and unappreciative of the skills the University was teaching and the expertise it offered. The students were uninterested, always few in number and neglecting their classes.” Like a mantra, this was said and repeated in one form or another by so many professors. I used to repeat it myself, then had a strong opinion against it, and now I am still against it, but I try to feel a sense of compassion rather than critique. It is hard for me, but I am getting there. I need to cultivate compassion because some of these professors were burying themselves in their own cynicism. One professor told several of my co-students that they needed to marry rich to be able to be a researcher because they would not be able to make a living doing this. One would not talk that way if they enjoyed and believed in their profession.

An interview on the radio

Cut to one year after I got my PhD. By then, I worked in a corporate environment and was only partially involved in academic work. A professor of art critique came on the radio; he was the head of some institute and discussed the wages received in his affiliation and most Bulgarian institutes. At one point, the professor said that most academics receive less than a waitress or a driver and that if the government did not provide extra funding for the scientific community, this meant that it wanted a country of waitresses and drivers.

I was driving in our car with my wife as we listened to this interview. I thought to myself, poor professor, he is going at it wrongly; he is strengthening what he despises. It was poor taste for the professor of art critique to oppose the academic world against what he viewed as simple jobs. Even more so, the fact that the jobs are simple does not in any way make them easy. In fact, most professors have a limited understanding of what it feels like to be waiters or drivers, and I hardly believe they would last a week in such professions.

The main point the interviewed professor made was that he and his employees at the institute and academics, in general, were underappreciated. The government was expected to give extra funding. This can be seen as a change from the top down; hence, the Ministry of Science gives more funding, which is distributed among several institutions, which is distributed further to the department heads and finally to the employees.

From the professor’s words, it seemed that he did not plan or at least did not mention any change or reforms on the part of his institution. The conversation boiled down to “Give us more money because we deserve it because we are rewarded less than, waiters and drivers.” Many academics I met and worked with expressed this notion of entitlement, the idea that somehow the government, society, or life owes you something. Mark Twain has commented on this in his book A Tramp Abroad: “Don’t go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.”

Nevertheless, many scientific workers feel unappreciated, and the pain behind these feelings is quite real and agonizing. I am speaking from experience. What I have come to realize is that such pain comes from the mindset people put themselves into. It is further amplified by that mantra so many well-intentioned, smart, and talented researchers repeat to themselves and to their students. The mantra of self-importance, of injustice, and lack of appreciation and recognition. Of blaming outside forces for the shortcomings of an institution, of a research team, or even of an individual scientist. I heard it when I was a student, and I repeated it myself later on; I heard it throughout my years as a PhD graduate, and I heard it on the radio a year after I left the university.

Change from the bottom up.

There is an alternative to waiting for outside forces to remedy your situation.  It is the polar opposite of change from the top down, and that is from the bottom up. Imagine several kitchenware sorted in one another by size: a small 100 ml cup, a 500 ml cup, which is in a 1 l bowl, which is in a bigger bowl, and so on. Then, you start filling the smallest container with water, and you fill it until the water spills from the side, with which you begin filling the second container, and so on. That is to say, that change starts building up from the individual level, then to a research team, a department, and God willing, an institution.

The crucial moment is to be so full of desire for change, of a yearning to do better research, do work that matters, and help students find their path and prepare them for the world outside the University. To be so full that your yearning spills over, and it affects the people around you. So many researchers and even students cultivate a feeling of self-importance because it is contagious, and the same is true for earnest enthusiasm if you allow it to spill over.

In my estimation, most people do not see things through; they can’t resist telling people what to do before allowing themselves to understand it completely. They share partial concepts, suggestions, and knowledge, something I have done many times and still do but try to keep under control. The best way to pass along knowledge and spark inspiration is via example. When a container is full, it is indifferent to the emptiness of the other vessels beside it. By the same token, an enthusiastic person may be highly indifferent to the passivity of their peers, too busy striving for what they believe in to complain.

In one of his 12 rules for life, prof. Jordan Peterson advises: “Set your house in perfect order before you criticize the world.” I do not know whether or not the professor of art critique on the radio had himself, his house, and his institute in order before he criticized the state for the lack of funding. I do not know of the struggles behind being the head of an institution and dealing with the swamp of stagnant bureaucracy in which said institution is submerged. It is probably very hard and very discouraging. And I cannot earnestly exclude the possibility of me saying something similar if I were being interviewed on the radio in such a position.

I have no moral right to think that people should do things in a certain way or to blab out half-baked suggestions. In a sense, my house is still not in perfect order; most houses are like that. But I could not help but feel compassion and even comradery toward that professor on the radio because I see part of myself in him to some extent. I do not know him and cannot compare myself with him, but we are connected by many things, including the academic mantra of self-importance and entitlement.

However, I know many scientific workers, researchers, and students who are already sparking change and improvement from the bottom up. One colleague of mine calls them locomotives. They can drag a ton of load while piercing through snow and pushing aside the debris left on the tracks. These people do what they do and act the way they act because their own being will not allow otherwise. For the last ten years, the ratios have been shifting in the academic community here in Bulgaria, and more and more people are taking matters into their own hands, sparking micro improvements in a system that generally rejects such things.

The world is in the same situation as the University where I studied and worked – stagnate and set in its ways, and most people cannot help complain without doing anything about it. At the same time, like little patches of green grass after a drought, people are elevating themselves, their families, their colleagues and peers, their community, and ultimately humanity as a whole while doing nothing more than working within themselves and being genuine about it. Such an observation was made by the renowned cultural anthropologist Margaret Mead: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”        

In a sense, I do not even need to suggest that people work on change from the bottom up because they are already doing so and beating the odds stacked against them. The question is, which club are you ready to join – the one waiting for better days or the one making the given day better moment by moment, with a suspended feeling of judgment? I say “ready to join” because being genuine and earnest with yourself is the only way I can see for one to shift from complaining to cultivating change and enthusiasm. It comes when one is ready to shift, and it is a beautiful thing to behold and be a part of.