I have a friend who invented a whole new alphabet when he was in secondary school. It was a very basic alphabet, but it did the job. He wrote in his diary using this alphabet. He also tried to teach this alphabet to his girlfriends, so that he could write letters to them. A whole alphabet. He was not very smart, though. He once was about to kill himself doing a careless experiment that aimed to move a “ninja turtles keychain” using electric power. One of his (failed) science experiments… He noticed relatively early that he was more interested in what humans do as they carry out their daily activities – when they talk to each other, meet to watch a football game, or when they are in a classroom, learning, teaching, and (just) being students and teachers. I am that friend who managed to land on his dream profession: I am an academic who works at a university, who still lives with the blurred memories of inventing an alphabet as a child, exploring the daily (for some people, boring), nitty-gritty details of human communication in classrooms and beyond. I am an academic. I work at a university.
But what does “working at a university” (as an academic) mean?
We do not work as an academic just to fulfil our childhood dreams (would be a bit selfish). But to do research, to inform others, to teach what we know within our (fields of) expertise, to inspire a new generation of curious humans. We cannot do these things alone. We have never been alone anyway – we stand on the shoulders of giants who inspired us, but we also walk side by side with our colleagues. We are only complete when our main activities, i.e., research, teaching, outreach, and development, are balanced and meaningful to us and to others involved. We are part of a massive ecology of researchers, teachers, lecturers, students, and all those affected by our (lack of) actions. We are also lifelong learners. The pressure is on.
The pressure is bigger than ever now because we are witnessing an emerging world order that has been altering what working at a university means. We have seen an increasing trend (here in Sweden and elsewhere) where decision makers at universities hire academics with the expectation that they would do research, without giving them the time to do research. It is expected of them to teach without the resources needed for teaching (and learning activities). They are told to make a broader impact with little or no support.
Academics are equal, but some are more equal than others. If you are in humanities and social sciences, including educational sciences, your students and you are worth less (pennies) than some others in the eyes of politicians (check the distribution of financial resources to different study programmes). Research that matters is decided top-down, without enough consideration of academic freedom. Disciplinary borders are redrawn, universities are reorganised, and financial (and other) motivations are prioritised over good research, good teaching, in-depth knowledge within disciplines, and academic expertise. Being an academic is no longer a balanced act: it is more difficult than ever for an individual academic to embody research, education, and other academic activities in harmony. Each of these activities, roles, and qualities might be taken away. One by one or altogether. Against our will. Sometimes without us being aware. Sounds daunting.
But what is the point of working at a university, then?
Because the child who invented the alphabet shall live longer. Curiosity, exploration, inspiration, good education, and equal opportunities for everyone for a just world are what should drive universities to inspire more children, young people, and lifelong learners.
What is the point of Working at a university? is empowering.
Olcay Sert
8 October 2026
