The voice of the academic subaltern: hegemony and self-determination
by
Prof J Maritz
Inaugural lecture at the University of South Africa, Pretoria, 10 March 2015
Introduction
The subaltern cannot speak. There is no virtue in global laundry lists with "woman" as
a pious item. Representation has not withered away. The female intellectual as
intellectual has a circumscribed task which she must not disown with a flourish
(Spivak 2003:104.)
A subaltern refers to someone of a lower rank. The British army used the term to indicate
someone of a junior rank, usually below the rank of captain. Within critical theory or
postcolonial theory the term refers to someone within the realm of a hegemonic umbrella,
who has limited or no means of access to upward mobility (or the hegemonic discourse) and
is therefore understood as completely powerless and without agency. In Spivak’s essay, “Can
the subaltern speak?” she argues that the subaltern cannot speak.
In order to demonstrate what a subaltern is, I will use Spivak’s example. In early India an
obscure tradition, called Sati, took place. It meant that when a husband dies the wife may
choose to burn herself to death on the husband's funeral pyre. It was often expected of a
"good wife" to take part in this tradition. In order to understand this tradition, it is important
to note that at this time, widows could inherit the husbands’ property, so it made sense from a
patriarchal perspective to encourage this behaviour so that sons could inherit directly. This
traditional practice was taking place even under Britain's colonial rule. The British, appalled
by this tradition and having a rescuing impulse, misunderstood many aspects of the tradition
(they even misspelt the Sati as Suttee). They consulted local Hindu leaders and outlawed the
practice. Spivak recognises that this was a good act by the British, but insists that it still
reflects the problem of representation and transparency. The British could give their account
of the phenomenon (representation); the Hindu leaders were, likewise, able to give their
account (representation); however, the women, who were performing Sati, were never heard
from. This led Spivak to conclude that, in fact, the subaltern cannot speak. In this lecture I
argue that a female academic subaltern can speak, but that there are certain conditions.
I will be sharing a number of personal experiences and writings. The aim is not to "navel
gaze", but to provide a first-hand account from a subaltern perspective. This inaugural lecture
provides me the opportunity to share with you my journey, as academic subaltern, of being
on the margin and gaining a voice in academia. In doing so, I hope to illustrate to you the
often salient process of the gaining entry to the world and work of academia from a nonnormative perspective and, in doing so, unsettling the normative.
For most of my early childhood and adult life I have felt voiceless, a disenfranchising
experience. The reasons for this lies outside the boundaries of this lecture and can be taken up
on another occasion. One may ask, "What is a voice?" A voice is a sense of agency that
makes us confident that we are heard and that we will impact our environment.
This interrogation takes a tripartite structure. I start by providing an overview of the changes
in the higher education environment. This will follow with a discussion as to why I view
higher education as a hegemonic umbrella, where after I will discuss the birth and voice of
the academic subaltern.
Changes in the higher education environment
The higher education environment has dealt with radical transformation over the past decade.
This forced the character of the university to change. Delanty (2001) demonstrates the
emerging role of the university according to four positions.

The first being the "entrenched liberal critique", which views the university as a site
of cultural reproduction and, as such, is deeply patriarchal.

The "postmodern thesis" foresees the end of the state university, the university having
lost its emancipatory role due to the fragmentation of knowledge and separation of
research from teaching. Performativity is the chief criteria by which knowledge and
worth is judged. In this market it is less about what students learn, but more about
what students are worth.

The "reflexivity thesis" claims that there is a new mode of knowledge based on a
reflexive relationship between the user and producer of knowledge. Traditional
disciplinary-based knowledge that is hierarchical, homogenous and autonomous is
replaced by transdisciplinary knowledge that is fluid, accountable and reflexive. This
leads to the breakdown of the theory practice dichotomy.

The "globalisation thesis" focuses on the instrumentalisation of the university as it
embraces market values, information technology and vocationalism as the university
becomes integrated into capitalist modes of production through corporatisation,
managerialism and marketisation.
I contend that the academic of the 21st century experience all of the above at any given
moment.
The capacity of the academic to deliver in this dynamic and diverse market place is often
sabotaged by the material conditions of massification that equate bigger classes with better
learning. The academic curriculum and pedagogy is increasingly driven by student choice,
student satisfaction surveys and teaching and learning management plans (Blackmore, 2003).
The academic becomes a "piece worker" serving an expanding new professional middle class
of administrators in a booming audit culture. The academic thus enters the university that,
according to Hall (2014), is an anxiety producing machine that leads to academics developing
an anxiety infused identity. Ball (2000:3) states that,
academics experience new controls (to be more accountable) and new freedoms (to
be more entrepreneurial), all the time being more visible so that contentments of
stability are increasingly elusive; purposes are contradictory, motivations blurred and
self-worth slippery.
Academics increasingly feel more out of control by being more controlled and yet alienated
individually from their core work of teaching and research as the performity exercises have
less to do with their core work and more to do with image management. I now turn to higher
education as a hegemonic umbrella.
Higher education institutions as a hegemonic umbrella
Hegemony refers to the dominance of one class or group over the other. The subordinate
group accepts this control as common sense or as natural, according to Gramsci (Clohesy,
Isaacs, & Sparks, 2009).
Allow me a few minutes to talk about academic career trajectories and how it might fit within
this hegemonic umbrella. It might be helpful to understand career trajectories in academia
from the concept of "life course" or "life course theory", which examines the individual's life
history as a sequence of socially defined events and roles that the individual enacts over time.
These events and roles are not necessarily in a given sequence, but rather constitutes the sum
total of the persons experience (Giele & Elder, 1998). The educational procession of
undergraduate students through academia to tenured professorships is referred to as "the
pipeline" (van Anders, 2004) and implies a lock step sequence of events that can begin as
early as high school. An academic position requires a doctorate; scholars cannot normally
become full professors without first serving as assistants and the associates. Each position
represents a stage in the pipeline. The pipeline approach has been criticised as being outdated
and not considering alternative “on-off ramps”, especially for female academics.
Anders (2009) found that women self-select away from academia in response to perceived
systemic barriers related to parenthood. Wolfinger, Mason and Goulden (2009) describes an
additional trajectory as the" mommy track", which refers to a category of adjunct faculty who
mostly teach and holds part-time positions. These positions are most often filled by women
(with children). It is more readily come by and hold less burdensome workloads. These
positions, however, do not offer tenure. It might, however, enable future positions by "staying
in the game" (Wolfinger, Mason, & Goulden, 2009). This may be one explanation why
woman continue to be underrepresented among faculty and university administrations and
why academia remains by large still male dominated (Djajadikerta & Trireksani, 2010).
Allow me to illustrate this through a column in the Washington Post (2013). In 1961, Phyllis
Richman applied to graduate school at Harvard. She received a letter asking how she would
balance a career in city planning with her "responsibilities" to her husband and possible
future family. The professor writing the letter felt that "from his experience" woman found it
difficult to carry out worthwhile careers and, therefore, (according to him) they tend to feel
that it is a waste of time and effort spent in professional education. As you can imagine, the
letter left her feeling disillusioned. Phyllis responded to his letter in the Washington Post 52
years later. Allow me to read you some excerpts from her letter:
In 1961 your letter left me down but not out. While woman of my era had significant
careers, many of them had to break through barriers to do so. Before your letter, it
hadn’t occurred to me that marriage could hinder my acceptance at Harvard or my
career. I was so discouraged by that I don’t think I ever completed the application, yet
I was too intimidated to contradict you when we met face to face.
At the time, I didn’t know how to begin the essay you requested. But now, two
marriages, three children and a successful writing career allow me to, as you put it,
"speak directly" to the concerns in your letter.
I haven’t encountered woman with "feelings of waste about the time and effort spent
on professional education". I have never regretted a single course. In all, I attended
graduate school for dozens of years, though part time, since my responsibility to [my]
husband, as you so perceptively put it, included supporting him financially through
his own graduate studies, a 10 year project.
Phyllis wrote for the Washington Post as a food critic for 23 years. She wrote three books and
a number of dining books. She found that in writing, her gender mattered less.
The current discourse of career trajectories as “pipeline”, where each position implies a lock
step sequence for the next step in the academic hierarchy is thus informed and sustained by
entrenched patriarchal assumptions and beliefs that veto alternative pathways and spaces to
allow for identity markers such as motherhood, LGBTIQQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual,
transgender, intersexual, queer, questioning), age, race and so forth (Van Anders, 2004;
Wolfinger, Mason, & Goulden, 2009).
There are a number of challenges for those marginalised. One challenge is that of "gate
keeping". The custodians of the group (most often men as we saw in Phyllis’s letter) define
the entry criteria at stake for each new entry guard membership of a group. These custodians
can thus modify the group through these entry criteria or limit the rights to occupy rare or
powerful positions.
Ginsberg (2011) states that nearly 70 per cent of those currently teaching in American
universities are neither tenured nor are they in the tenure track. These adjunct or part-time
academics are inexpensive, can be hired when needed and discarded at a whim. Being
desperate does not allow part-time academics the freedom of having an opinion or a voice as
this could mean that they will not be hired in future. Therefore, part-time, minority faculty, or
those who arrive late or “by accident” in academia and who do not follow the traditional
"pipeline" track (Van Anders, 2004), are presented on the margins of the traditional career
tracks and often feel that they are not major players in the unfolding drama of professional
academic careers (Gay, 2004).
Those permanently employed have substantially enhanced employment conditions such as
sabbatical leave, eligibility for ad hominem promotions, access to funding for training and
development and contact with mentors and coaches.
This access to career developmental opportunities provide for an environment where
situational learning (Lave, 2011) can take place. Over time, with nurturing, recognition and
support, the novice academic in the pipeline trajectory moves from the periphery to a more
central and responsible role. In addition to the above advantages of permanent employment,
these academics also have access membership to structures such as Council and the Senate,
Faculty Boards and a myriad of committees that comprise the web of collegial governance.
Exclusion from these structures is a form of political silencing. The impenetrability of these
structures for novices and those on the margins sets up a system of subalternity, where the
excluded are silenced, as the story of Phyllis illustrated.
Women often become the subaltern in the higher education hegemonic umbrella when they
are situated outside the hegemonic power structure and discourse or outside of the traditional
career tracks. Subalterns are rendered mute by the "epistemic violence" of the hegemonic
discourse. In order to be heard, they must adopt the thought, the reasoning and the language
of the dominant group. In academia that relates largely to performance productivity in terms
of the measurement of output obtained from a certain amount of input.
I now turn to the birth of an academic subaltern: a journey of self-determination, my story.
The birth of an academic subaltern: a journey of self-determination
In December last year I had the honour of attending my two-year-old granddaughter,
Catherine’s, first school play. As the Grade R class marched across the stage with their
gowns to receive their "graduation" diplomas, a photo of each child appeared on the screen,
along with a sentence on what they wanted to become. The list was intriguing. In my day it
was a teacher, a nurse or a mother. Their list included a rock star, a coffee shop owner, an
astronaut and a ninja.
Porfeli and Lee (2012) posit that career development begins during childhood and unfolds as
an individual establishes a sense of self at work, also known as a career identity. They
mention that during childhood the response to "what will you become?" is often general and
more glamorous than what will follow later. My career story will attest to this. When
interviewed by a newspaper at the age of 12, after being elected mini-mayor of Johannesburg,
I boldly stated that I wanted to become a doctor. The journey that followed was certainly less
glamorous.
My identity and choices of careers have largely been shaped by decisions that I have
consciously made, by a lack of direction or by external forces not within my control. It did,
however, allow for opportunities of exploration of my values and internal needs and a good
deal of self-determination.
My choice to get married at the age of 18 was mainly due to a lack of direction and
conceding to the demands of society and the adoption of a socially acceptable role identity of
wife and mother. The joy of becoming a mother was quickly extinguished by the death of my
first two children. I discovered that woundedness could be both a resource and a liability. As
a resource, realising personal woundedness allowed for self-awareness and self-reflectiveness
and the capacity to think about and acknowledge difficult experiences and feelings. Most of
all, the positive capacity to tolerate pain, disillusionment and the ability to resolve and
integrate painful experiences and memories led to a greater assimilation of painful
experiences. This experience later became the topic of my master’s dissertation and one
publication.
Having lost so much I was adamant to become a stay at home mom for my two daughters
until they started school. This meant that I started my higher education career at the age of 30
when I enrolled for a four-year nursing diploma. As with Phyllis, my acceptance into
professional education was marked with obstacles. The principal of the college felt that, since
I am married and mother to two children, I had no hope to succeed. Like Phyllis, I also felt
disillusioned and I retreated. However, I then fought back, cried and pleaded, until I was
finally accepted for the nursing programme. The day I entered the college, the principal
waited for me. She gave me one look and said, "You better not disappoint me.” I wish to say
to her as I stand here today, "I hope you are not disappointed." I might just write her a letter,
as Phyllis did. Mine would however be four children, two marriages and 20 years later.
When I entered the nursing programme, I realised that I was ten or more years behind my
peers and that whatever it is that I wanted to do, I needed to catch up faster than what the
average student may allow themselves. It was the birth of self-determination; I was
determined to catch up with my peers, but I did not have a specific vision of an academic
career.
Self-determination refers to the characteristic of a person that leads them to make choices and
decisions based on their own preferences and interest, to monitor and regulate their own
actions and to be goal orientated and self-directing. Although my choices can be attributed to
my interests and preferences, I soon found that the opportunities and the dynamics presented
by my external environment contributed to the degree of self-determination that I could
express.
By the age of 40, I had completed my master’s degree and considered myself as having
"caught up". At 43, I completed my doctoral degree and considered myself as having
surpassed most of my peers. At this stage, however, I found myself in the corporate sector as
a full time business coach. This area was to become not only my work focus, but also my
research focus over the next ten years. During this time I published 7 articles from the
periphery. At this point publishing was not an altruistic act, but a determinant of the external
environment (in this case academia). If researchers wish to find themselves employed, they
must publish. I am grateful to Professor Marie Poggenpoel for a single conversation in the
corridor in which she implored me to publish.
I later left the corporate sector and started a research consultancy practice. I taught part-time
at a number of universities in an attempt to gain access, much like the ‘mommy track’ woman
would do. I started to apply for lecturing positions within several higher education
institutions, without success. My nomadic life outside academia was less of a choice and
more a result of circumstance.
In an article co-authored with Paul Prinsloo titled “Queering” and "Querying Supervisory
Identities in Postgraduate Education”, we reflected on our career trajectories as
nomadic/alternative and queer. As nomads, we were possibly more acutely aware that our
survival depended on our capital (referring to that which is valued) and the perceived worth
we added to institutions. I quote:
We made peace with being and becoming nomads that signified something of making
peace with being constantly disenchanted. Our initial dreams and enchantment may
not have lasted long. Being disenchanted seems to almost be an essential
characteristic of being and becoming nomad. It is as if even when we have the brief
satisfaction of receiving acknowledgement (for example an article being accepted for
publication or positive feedback on a blog), that we acknowledge that these moments
are few and far between. We both learned that these brief moments where we have
glimpses of the initial enchantment and deep satisfaction are short-lived, and that we
should not be tempted to become re-enchanted. Our survival as nomads depends on
being enchanted by being and becoming nomads, to find our joys in not belonging.
This alternative career trajectory mimics what Whitchurch (2006) describes as blended or
unbounded professions. Blended professionals draw their identity from both professional and
academic domains and work in a fluid space between the two. These professionals do,
however, report contradictions in their identities and struggle with a dissonance between
credibility and expectations, much as Paul and I have experienced. The performance anxiety
often leads to self-doubt. The questions rhetorically asked, that is, "Am I good enough?", "Do
I work hard enough?" and "Am I enough?", both produced and projected anxiety.
I now turn to gaining capital, worth and a voice to speak within a hegemonic discourse.
Gaining capital: letting the academic subaltern speak
There is a barely conscious freedom that is prior to a true understanding of the social
conditions that generate the conditions of life and there is a greater, conscious
freedom that comes from knowing the constraints of one’s life (Hilgers 2009).
In the following section I would like to share with you the challenges and opportunities of
arriving late in academia through a nomadic route and the possible implications for those
currently journeying through academia and those entrusted to "manage" academia.
Along with self-determination it became essential for me to self-manage and to reconstruct
and deconstruct continuously both internalising and rejecting performativity. I will illustrate
this by using excerpts of another publication by Paul and me, "A Bourdieusian perspective on
becoming and being a postgraduate supervisor: the role of capital" (2015). In this writing we
discussed a number of types of capital and I will focus on four types, namely social capital,
gender and race, age and linguistic abilities. I would, however, like to add an additional
component relating to self-determination, namely the Bourdieusian concept of "habitus".
"Habitus" refers to a socially acquired and conditioned system of dispositions or
predispositions that are learned, often unconsciously, through one's experiences of the social
environment (Salerno, 2004) and allows for permanent mutation. Hilgers (2009) contends
that one acquires agency at the point where you are able to identify and control your
disposition. This reflexive moment allows for a certain degree of self-determination, even if
the categories of perception are themselves determined.
I now turn to the forms of academic capital in a hope that current and future academics can
become conscious of the controls of the academic environment. In our article Paul and I
contend that gaining academic capital is the way and possibly the only way that the academic
subaltern may be able to speak. Capital in the Bourdieusian sense, refers to that which is
symbolically valued. Academic capital is one of the major factors contributing to the
academic’s career advancement. There are a number of types of academic capital, namely
publications, publications, publications … okay (!) and teaching and networking. You gain
recognition and a voice via the accumulation of capital within the field.
Social capital (networking)
Social capital is the sum total of all your contacts in academia and provides access to valuable
resources such as specialised knowledge, political power, legal protection and enhanced
socioeconomic success. It would, therefore, be critical for the novice academic to start
actively engaging in building social capital early in their academic careers. In the digital age,
this would mean enhancing your digital footprint through online networks such as blogs,
Twitter, Facebook, Friendfeed, LinkedIn and other tools.
Access to capital also requires the willingness of social capital "donors" (Cornwell &
Cornwell, 2008) to make available assets for which there may be neither clear nor immediate
returns on investment. Coaches and mentors can act as donors and provide the support and
learning opportunities needed by novice academics as well as a platform for dialogue and
development of a repertoire of knowledge and understanding of different aspects of academia
(Bitzer, 2010). This relationship will probably not develop out of asking a virtual stranger;
the strongest relationship results from a real and often earned connection felt by both sides.
Gender and race
I earlier mentioned that women continue to be underrepresented among faculty (especially
senior positions) and university administrations and that academia is, by and large, still male
dominated. As women we need to challenge gendered institutional power and practices and
encourage senior male academics to widen their circles. If we do not, our identity as
academics will continue to be negated and we may remain on the margins and subaltern.
Age
As a first generation academic and being older limits the time biologically available for me to
build capital. Multiple demands such as lecturing, research, administration and community
service limit free time available for building or maximising cultural and social capital as well
as the capacity to satisfy specific demands of a prolonged process of acquisition. I learned
that I had to manage my time available to the maximum. It became crucial to say "no" to that
which was not aligned to my career and academic objectives. Chitchatting at the office was
and is still not an option. Critical dialogue and cutting edge relationships with engaged fellow
academics were and still are of the utmost importance and worth every minute allocated to
this endeavour.
Linguistic abilities
Language ability remains a commodity for exchange, as Phyllis’ story richly illustrated.
Butler (1997) makes a case for language having the ability to ‘performativily constitute’
subjects (for Butler becoming a subject is a process of becoming subordinated by power with
power and subjection to this power is necessary for the existence of the subject). Putting it
differently, language has the ability to form the contours of social existence and as such may
provide the terms by which we come to make sense of peoples actions. Speaking (and I
would add writing), as a bodily act, can bring a subject into a social being. Without the
necessary linguistic capital, performance becomes more difficult, especially when this
becomes the code in which performance is evaluated. Being able to communicate in ways
appropriate to the academic field is a critical factor for success. I refer specifically to
publishing in academia. People are persuaded to follow particular norms because these norms
hold the promise of recognisability. These norms do however come with their punishment or
cost.
The phrase “publishes or perish" or "publish and perish" is well known in academia. It is not
a joke. There are probably two reasons why publishing is disliked, it is hard work and it takes
time. Many people don’t dislike the writing, but the process of publishing is daunting. The
fact remains that this is the largest form of capital in academia and, thus, allows for having
the greatest “voice”.
For me writing and publishing was not only a way of communicating findings and results and
so adding to knowledge, but also a way of expressing my fears, frustrations, hopes and
dreams. It provided me an opportunity to express my ideas, plans and recommendations, to
explain to others what I believed and what I understood. Words provided bridges for my
thoughts and through publishing also a barometer for my thoughts. It assisted me to think
critically and to read widely. In doing so writing provided both social capital through
engagement with discourses and building networks. Donna Haraway (in her Cyborg
Manifesto) defined [cyborg] writing as "the power to survive, not on the basis of original
innocence, but on the basis of seizing the tools to mark the world that marked [me] as other".
(in) conclusion
In this lecture I have illustrated the challenges that higher education institutions face today,
along with the hegemonic umbrella that exists. I illustrated the means by which the academic
subaltern may gain a voice. I argued that there were certain conditions that could assist the
academic and woman to gain capital with reference to the habitus of the academic, social
capital, age, gender and linguistic abilities. At this point I urge university administrators to
take cognisance of those entering academia from the margins and of the support that they
need. I predict those entering from the margins may be the workforce of the future. I also
wish to encourage academia and woman to embrace the voice that could be gained in
academia to challenge the status quo, although it remains a voice in a patriarchal domain.
For those in the health sciences: we need a voice in order to advocate for our patients. We
need a voice to demonstrate critical judgement. We need a voice to provide the impetus for
our actions.
While writing this piece and reflecting on my life, I discovered that I have not chosen the
webs into which I was born or grew up, nor have I chosen my gender, race or socio-economic
background and culture. I have not chosen to be confronted with death and dying so early in
my life, but I have chosen to have agency over my life and my career. I have lost my original
innocence, but I have also gained the will to learn and enhance myself, my family and my
relationships through making the best out of every area that I have found myself in. In
academia I have used the capital that I accrued to gain a voice and to speak. I have learnt that
silence is not support and that I will use my voice to speak with and about the margins and
those frequenting the margins.
Having said this, we may want to revisit the title and my initial position as subaltern and ask
“Am I still subaltern or am I now an “altern” (if a term such as this exists)?” Did the fact that
I am speaking or writing change my position? Has this voice challenged the hegemonic
umbrella of academia?” I guess it would depend on “if anyone has heard?” As a coach I
might ask “How would I know if anyone has heard?” I would know when I see and hear any
one or every one person in this audience challenge the status quo of business as usual to
business unusual (Burger, 2015) and becomes an agent of change where ever they may find
themselves.
I wish to thank you for listening.
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