Academic professionalism in the
UK context:
a new conceptual model
work-in-progress paper presented at the
European Conference on Educational Research,
University of Helsinki,
Within the symposium,
Adapting to circumstances and changing with the times?
Is this the dawn of a new academic professionalism in Europe?
August 27th, 2010
by
Linda Evans
School of Education, University of Leeds, UK
l.evans@leeds.ac.uk
website: http://www.education.leeds.ac.uk/people/staff.php?staff=118
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Author’s note: This represents an early draft of a paper that is not yet of publishable quality and should
be considered work-in-progress. Comments are most welcome and may be sent to me at:
l.evans@leeds.ac.uk
ABSTRACT
This predominantly theoretical paper is about academic practice and professionalism. By
‘professionalism’ I do not mean behaving in an exemplary fashion as a member of an elite occupational
group; such notions of a profession and such conceptions of professionalism are now outmoded. My
conception of professionalism is that it is essentially and principally about what practitioners do (in the
context of their working lives); how they do it; what they know and understand; where and how they
acquire their knowledge and understanding; what attitudes they hold; what codes of behaviour they
adhere to; what their function is: what purposes they perform; what quality of service they provide; and
the level of consistency incorporated into the above. I perceive professionalism as qualitatively-neutral
professional practice that incorporates several specific requisite features.
The paper introduces my own original conceptual model, which trifurcates professionalism into
its behavioural, attitudinal and intellectual components, each of which has components of its own (such
as the perceptive, the evaluative, and the processual components of professionalism). Drawing upon a
case study of an English research-intensive university I illustrate the model’s potential as a new
analytical framework for studying European academic professionalism and examining in fine detail its
changing nature.
INTRODUCTION
It is consensually accepted that much has changed in academia over the last few decades, not only since
Perkin (1969) depicted the academic profession as probably the most stable and self-confident one in the
world, whose members enjoyed considerable autonomy and the trust of government, but also since the
late 1980s, when Neave and Rhoades (1987) suggested that the Anglo-Saxon academic profession
exercised greater mastery over its own house than did its counterparts in continental Europe. Indeed,
almost ten years ago Fulton and Holland (2001, p. 301) argued that the consequences of major changes to
the UK higher education (HE) sector ‘are still rippling through the working life and employment
conditions of the academic profession’.
Does it follow then that academic professionalism has changed? Many of the changes purported to
have impacted on academic life may be considered to relate to professionalism, though this consideration
must clearly be informed by how professionalism is defined. This raises an important issue, for in much
of the literature generated by researchers of higher education, (academic) professionalism is often
discussed without being defined – certainly, stipulative definitions are thin on the ground.
Herein lies one of the purposes of this predominantly theoretical paper. Its main focus is the
presentation of my original conceptualisation of professionalism, which I contextualise by applying it to
academia, and represent in diagram form as a conceptual model. Moreover, I contend that it is not enough
to claim that academic professionalism has changed, or is changing: that a new professionalism has been
shaped by societal change and systemic reform. Such claims must clearly be supported by evidence, but
this, in turn, requires both clarity in relation to what, precisely, is meant by ‘professionalism’, and
examination of the nature and extent of the change.
What would be ideal for injecting greater authenticity into the discourse on the changing nature of
academic work, is a tool for analysing academic professionalism - for depicting it with clarity and
structure, and for examining changes to it by comparing clear and structured depictions of it as it was and
as it is. This is a tall order and may be destined to remain an unrealised ideal, not least because there is
much more than might be first thought to depicting something as intangible and nebulous as
professionalism. Nevertheless I argue that, used as an analytical tool, my model has the potential to move
us a step nearer to realising this ideal – even if it is only a small step. To set the scene for my discussion I
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begin by outlining what have recently been identified in the literature as recent trends in changes to
academic life.
CHANGES TO ACADEMIC WORKING LIFE: AN OUTLINE OF RECENT IDENTIFIED TRENDS
I devote no more than a few lines’ reference to the economic and political shifts underpinning systemic
and sector changes that are generally considered to have impacted upon academic working life in the last
two decades. These have been afforded ample coverage elsewhere, though analysts differ in their
attribution, categorisation and labelling. Neave (2009, p. 17), for example, identifies massification and
managerialism as ‘the two revolutions’ that have overturned the equilibrium of academic life: ‘the rise of
“new (public) managerialism” … together with performance assessment, the spreading principles of
conditionality and contractualisation, and the evolving profiles and priorities of the “evaluative state” …’
(Neave, 2009, p. 20). Kolsaker (2008, p. 513) focuses on a single overarching change factor - ‘In
aggregate, academic staff on the whole now function within performative systems of accountability
embedded in managerialism’ - whilst Jones (2006, pp. 317-8) names three:
[a]t least three external factors can be identified as having a substantive impact on the changing
nature of academic work: the massification of higher education; the repositioning of the
university in terms of economic development; and the shifting relationship between the
university and the state. These factors are not mutually exclusive but tend to be intertwined in
complex ways.
My narrower focus is on what are identified as the specific changes to academic life resulting
from such overarching systemic and sector reforms and changes. For Skelton (2005) it is altruisticallyfocused, student-centred, academic practice that is particularly threatened. Jones (2006), more
specifically, identifies increased teaching loads and related pressures as a likely result of massification.
As a system of institutional governance, the rather ill-defined but ubiquitous ‘new public management’
(NPM), Enders et al. (2009, p. 40) observe, typically reduces academics’ managerial influence and limits
their autonomy to teaching and research, which are generally perceived as their core professional tasks:
‘under the notion of “every man to his trade” these knowledge workers should do what they do best:
acquire and transmit knowledge.’ For research-active academics, they suggest, reductions to
unconditional funding has impacted upon the research component of academic work by imposing greater
control over the research agenda:
the policy of steering the research agenda, which has been an especially strong feature of
science policies in England, implies a direct attack on the core of academic work. The
maintenance of less fashionable lines of work that are difficult to find funding for becomes a
serious problem for research groups and departments (Enders et al., 2009, p. 46).
Reflecting a trend of task multiplication that also manifests itself in relation to academics’ wider teachingand knowledge transfer-related roles, securing research funding has nevertheless become an increasingly
important representation of the neo-liberal ideologies that, since the 1990s, have pervaded and shaped
academic culture (Oplatka, 2010). Obtaining research grants has shifted from being an optional to an
expected core activity that has contributed significantly, along with the proliferation of individuals’
published output, to increased workloads and work ethics that some academics choose to embrace
(Ylijoki, 2010), and that reflect the dissolution of the boundary between work and personal life:
In research, the most dramatic change probably concerns the rise of expectations as regards
academics’ capacities in fundraising and research management. … Certainly, these activities
have been carried out by academics for ages, but they were optional, though instrumental, means
to another end, which was academic output and reputation. Today, the means have become the
ends (Enders et al., 2009, p. 47).
Accountability measures, too, are now generally acknowledged as a considerable imposition on
academics’ working lives; indeed, Nixon (2003, p. 7) refers to ‘the endless target-setting, league tables,
inspection regimes, and centrally controlled funding mechanisms that now characterise the university
sector and dominate the working lives of those within it’, while Enders et al. (2009, p. 48) write of ‘the
vicious cycle of career planning, target settings, performance measurements, and the related systems of
rewards and sanctions’.
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Incorporated into his wider perspective, Scott (2009, p. 71) focuses on the technological
revolution’s impact, particularly its fostering of more interdependent ways of working: ‘university
teachers have not merely had to develop new technical skills but also to come to terms with this more
significant shift in learning cultures.’ This is one of four ‘intermediate trends’ (the others being: the rise
of consumerism, changing conceptions of professionalism, and the rise of accountability) that he links to
what he identifies as the common thread of ‘changing patterns, or balances, of authority’ within academic
life (p. 67). More broadly, he summarises three influential meta-trends as: the erosion of the welfare state
and its replacement with the market state, the growth of the knowledge society, and globalisation.
How may such changes be classified in relation to what they mean for academics? Are they
simply representations of the power shift to which Scott (2009) refers, and which I have summed up:
‘whoever used to call the shots no longer does so (or, at least, does so to a lesser extent)’ (Evans, 2008, p.
21)? And if so, does this constitute changes to academic professionalism? More specifically, do such
changes represent deprofessionalisation – even proletarianisation - as much of the literature suggests
(Kolsaker, 2008)? Is deprofessionalisation implied by the ‘shifting relationship between the university
and the state’, to which Jones (2006), cited above, refers, or by academics’ loss of ‘monopoly of influence
over organisational goals, strategies and structures’ (Enders et al., 2009, p. 43), or by the academic
profession’s difficulty in sustaining its value structures in the ‘post-modern fog’ within which it finds
itself lost (Scott, 2009, p. 70)? Certainly, Halsey’s (1992) seminal study depicts what he labels the
proletarianisation of the British academics at the latter end of the twentieth century, yet, more recently,
like many analysts, Enders et al (2009) are ambivalent in recognising both symptoms of an erosion or
dilution of academic professionalism - ‘[T]here are signs of “deprofessionalisation” (loss of autonomy)
and “proletarianisation” (loss of status, privileges)’ (p. 53) - and a (not unrelated) resurgence of
professional-related purpose, determination, direction, and in some cases even power, on the part of the
academic community. How this is categorised using the language of the sociology of the professions –
whether it constitutes re-professionalisation, deprofessionalisation, or something else - is impossible to
examine meaningfully without conceptual clarity: specifically, clarification of what is meant by
‘professionalism’. The next section offers such clarification.
EXAMINING PROFESSIONALISM:
Kolsaker (2008, pp. 515-6) rightly reminds us that ‘[p]rofessionalism is a challenging concept to research,
since the field is relatively under-researched, and such research as exists is criticised as ambiguous and
lacking a solid theoretical foundation.’ It is, she adds, ‘inherently difficult to pinpoint’ its constitution and
characteristics, though I question this implicit assumption that there is - or ought to be – a single,
universally accepted delineation of these. Indeed, the lack of consensus over what professionalism means
is widely acknowledged (Englund, 1996; Fox, 1992; Freidson, 1994; Hargreaves and Goodson, 1996). A
range of views (Evetts, 2003; Gleeson et al., 2005; Hoyle, 1975; Nixon, 2001, 2003; Nooredegraf, 2007;
Ozga, 1995; Sockett, 1996; Troman, 1996) represent professionalism variously as, inter alia: a form of
occupational control; a socially constructed and dynamic entity; the application of knowledge to specific
cases; the use of knowledge as social capital; a normative values system; the basis of the relationship
between professionals and their publics; and a basis and determinant of social and professional status.
Many interpretations seem to focus on professionalism’s being an externally imposed, articulated
perception of what lies within the parameters of a profession’s collective remit and responsibilities. In
setting the positions of these parameters – and, hence, in defining the boundaries of the profession’s
actual and potential authority, power and influence – external agencies appear to have the capacity for
designing and delineating professionalism. This is an interpretation of professionalism as what is
effectively a representation of a service level agreement, imposed from above.
Yet some interpretations lie outside this one. Boyt, Lusch and Naylor’s (2001, p. 322) emphasis,
for example, is on the influential capacity of the professional her/himself: ‘Professionalism consists of the
attitudes and behavior one possesses toward one’s profession. It is an attitudinal and behavioral
orientation that individuals possess toward their occupations.’ On similar lines, though she fails to make
it explicit, Kolsaker’s (2008) conceptualisation of professionalism may be inferred, from her outline
4
explanation of how she measured it in her study, as relating to people’s active involvement in professional
networks and to their internalised values, accountability and degree of altruism.
My own conceptualisation of professionalism lies close to Foucault’s consideration of it as a
‘certain mode of being’ in a work context (Foucault 1991, p. 2, cited in Kolsaker, 2008, p. 517). I define it
as:
professionality-influenced work practice that is consistent with commonly-held consensual
delineations of a specific profession or occupation and that both contributes to and reflects
perceptions of the profession’s or occupation’s purpose and status and the specific nature, range
and levels of service provided by, and expertise prevalent within, the profession or occupation, as
well as the general ethical code underpinning this practice (Evans, 2008, p. 29).
I perceive professionalism as qualitatively neutral: as something that is rather than something that ought
to be - and something that applies to every occupational workforce, not just an elite category. Thus, the
tem ‘unprofessional’ becomes redundant since professionalism is not something that is merited, it is
simply a description of people’s ‘mode of being’ in a work context, irrespective of whether that translates
into practice that is praiseworthy or practice that is despicable. This interpretation is consistent both with
societal changes that have led to what is increasingly recognised as ‘the professionalisation of everyone’
(Scott, 2009; Williams, 2008), and, related to this, shifts in thinking and theoretical perspectives within
the sociology of the professions (Evetts, 2003).
To me, then, professionalism is principally about people’s being (as) practitioners or workers and
as such I interpret it as relating to and conveying: what they do (in the context of their working lives);
how and why they do it; what they know and understand; where and how they acquire their knowledge
and understanding; what (kinds of) attitudes they hold; what codes of behaviour they follow; what their
function is: what purposes they perform; what quality of service they provide; and the level of
consistency incorporated into the above. This list represents what I currently (this being work-inprogress) consider the key constituent parts of professionalism as a concept: its ‘constitution’, to use
Kolsaker’s term. My conceptualisation, represented in Figure 1, essentially deconstructs professionalism
into such key constituent parts, labelled concisely.
I currently identify three main constituent components of professionalism: its behavioural,
attitudinal, and intellectual components or elements. Each incorporates further elements or dimensions, as
indicated in Figure 1. In representing what I conceive as professionalism’s ontological composition, the
model demonstrates its (professionalism’s) quiddity through its componential structure. (Quiddity is a
little-used term that means the ‘whatness’ of something: what it is, or its essence.)
The behavioural component of professionalism relates to what practitioners physically do at work.
I identify as its sub-components: the processual, procedural, productive, and competential dimensions of
professionalism, which relate respectively to: processes that people apply to their work; procedures that
they apply to their work; output, productivity and achievement (how much people ‘do’ and what they
achieve); and their skills and competences.
The attitudinal component of professionalism relates to attitudes held. I identify as its subcomponents: the perceptual, evaluative, and motivational dimensions of professionalism, which relate
respectively to: perceptions, beliefs and views held, (including those relating to oneself, hence, selfperception); people’s values; and people’s motivation, job satisfaction and morale.
The intellectual component of professionalism relates to practitioners’ knowledge and
understanding and their knowledge structures. I identify as its sub-components: the epistemological,
rationalistic, comprehensive, and analytical dimensions of professionalism, which relate respectively to:
the bases of people’s knowledge; the nature and degree of reasoning that they apply to their practice; what
they know and understand; and the nature and degree of their analyticism1.
My interpretation of academic professionalism is simply this conceptualisation of professionalism
applied to academics, whom, following Williams (2008), I categorise in the context of this paper as
employees of higher education institutions (HEIs) whose core responsibilities are teaching and research.
1
It is, of course, possible to identify a third tier, or level, of factors that feed into and influence the second tier ones. These
might include, for example: identity; self-esteem, (self-)confidence, and intelligence. However, since these would be
categorised as influences on or determinants of individuals’ attitudes, behaviour and intellectuality and knowledge (structures),
I consider them indirect constituent elements of professionalism and, as such, one step removed from warranting identification
as professionalism’s components or dimensions.
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Figure 1: the componential structure of professionalism
professionalism
behavioural
component
attitudinal
component
intellectual
component
processual
dimension
perceptual
dimension
epistemological
dimension
procedural
dimension
evaluative
dimension
rationalistic
dimension
productiv e
dimension
motivational
dimension
comprehensiv e
dimension
analytical
dimension
competential
dimension
Professionalism and professionality
My definition of professionalism incorporates what to some readers may be an unfamiliar term:
‘professionality’. I perceive professionality, in part, as the ‘singular’ unit of professionalism. It is a term
introduced by Hoyle (1975), who identifies two distinct aspects of teachers’ professional lives:
professionalism and professionality. In 1975 Hoyle explained the distinction as being between statusrelated elements of teachers’ work, which he categorised as professionalism, and those elements of the
job that constitute the knowledge, skills, processes and procedures that teachers use in their work, and
which he categorised as professionality. In the absence of a stipulative definition from Hoyle I have
defined professionality as: ‘an ideologically-, attitudinally-, intellectually-, and epistemologically-based
stance on the part of an individual, in relation to the practice of the profession to which s/he belongs, and
which influences her/his professional practice’ (Evans, 2002, pp. 6-7).
In the 1970s Hoyle formulated two models of teacher professionality: ‘For the sake of discussion
we can hypothesize two models of professionality: restricted and extended’ (Hoyle, 1975, p. 318). The
characteristics used to illustrate these two heuristic models created what may effectively be seen as a
continuum with, at one end, a model of the ‘restricted’ professional, who is essentially reliant upon
experience and intuition and is guided by a narrow, classroom-based perspective which values that which
is related to the day-to-day practicalities of teaching. The characteristics of the model of ‘extended’
professionality, at the other end of the continuum, reflect: a much wider vision of what education
involves, valuing of the theory underpinning pedagogy, and the adoption of a generally intellectual and
rationally-based approach to the job. I use the term, professionality orientation to refer to individuals’
location on this ‘extended-restricted’ continuum. Allowing for specific contextual differences it is a
continuum that, I suggest, is applicable to all occupational groups.
I perceive professionalism as what may be described as the ‘plural’ of individuals’ professionality
orientation: the amalgam of multiple ‘professionalities’. In this respect my interpretation of
professionalism is consistent with those of Boyt, Lusch and Naylor (2001) and of Kolsaker (2008),
presented above, since it recognises the professionalism of a specific occupation as essentially the sum –
or perhaps, more accurately, as a general ‘average’ - of individuals’ ‘modes of being’ practitioners of that
profession. In relation to each of the components or dimensions of professionalism (identified in Figure
1), individuals’ ‘modes of being’ will be determined by their professionality orientation: where they
currently lie on the ‘extended’-‘restricted’ continuum. This positioning effectively denotes how
professionally developed individual practitioners are, as determined by whatever internally- (within the
occupational group itself) or externally-imposed norms of good practice are currently applicable. These
norms underpin the typical characteristics of what would be considered the ‘extended’ and the ‘restricted’
professional – though it is important to emphasise that ‘extended’ and ‘restricted’ denote extremes of
what is, as I have indicated, a continuum, rather than an ‘either-or’ categorisation system.
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Having clarified my conceptualisation of professionalism, I now consider how it may be most
effectively depicted and, following on from this, how different professionalisms may be compared on the
basis of their depictions.
DEPICTING ACADEMIC PROFSSIONALISM: AN OUTLINE OVERVIEW OF TRENDS IN THE
LITERTURE
It is, of course, misleading - indeed, inaccurate - to refer to academic professionalism in the singular, for
as several analysts observe explicitly or implicitly (e.g. Farnham, 2009; Marginson, 2009; Nixon, 2003;
Nixon et al., 2001; Scott, 2009), multiple professionalisms may be identified. This, at least, is the case
with professionalism as I define it, for my definition, presented above, includes reference to ‘perceptions
of the profession’s or occupation’s purpose and status and the specific nature, range and levels of service
provided by, and expertise prevalent within, the profession or occupation’. The basis of academic
professionalism’s multiplicity lies mainly in the multiplicity and diversity of the nature and range of
service and, to a lesser extent, of the expertise and levels of service that the academics provide. Even
applying a narrow interpretation of ‘academic’ as those employed by universities to undertake research
and teaching, and excluding those with recognised key administrative or management roles, within the
UK there is evidently considerable disparity between the nature and range of the service provided by such
academics employed in research-intensive universities and those employed in post-1992 universities2.
(Research carried out in 2007 (Locke, 2008) shows disparity to have persisted then, fifteen years after the
end of the binary divide.) Moreover, disparity will inevitably also occur within institutions, between –
sometimes even within - faculties and departments, often reflecting disciplinary or epistemic cultures.
What Martin Trow (1997) identifies as ‘the private life’ of higher education – ‘the life that is
experienced in lecture hall and seminar, in a teacher’s room or office, in libraries and laboratories’ – is
contextually determined. The ‘private life’ of Cambridge University is clearly quite a different animal
from the ‘private life’ of Cumbria University - one of the UK’s newest universities3. By extension, the
respective lives of Cambridge academics and Cumbria’s academics will represent the very different
services that each is expected to provide. Indeed, it is quite likely - though I emphasise that this represents
conjecture on my part - that many of Cumbria’s academic staff would not refer to themselves as
‘academics’ but as teachers or tutors, which better reflects their professional identities and their
predominant roles and responsibilities. How this disparity within British academia manifested itself in the
minutiae of day-to-day working life in the early 1990s was illuminated by Crace’s vignette of ‘a two tier
system of academic staff’:
Mr Weale’s working life is very much that of the traditional Oxbridge don’s. ‘From time to time I
am away at a conference and I do attend official meetings at the Treasury and at the Central
Statistical Office now and again, but an average week consists of three hours’ lecturing and from
six to seven hours of tutorials. The rest of my time, apart from the odd afternoon dealing with
college business, is devoted to research, which I consider the main part of my job.’ ... In the new
universities the situation appears significantly different. ... Lynette Hughes is in her first year as
full-time lecturer in computer science at the University of Hertfordshire, formerly Hatfield
Polytechnic. Like Martin Weale, she has three hours lecturing and seven hours of tutorials a week.
The difference is that she has 30 students in each tutorial. ... ‘I reckon that I spend about 50 hours
a week either teaching or preparing to do so’, she says. ‘As for research, I don’t have time for it.’
(Crace, 1993)
Based on my own twenty years’ experience as a British academic and an employee of two of the UK’s
leading research intensive universities – admittedly not Oxbridge, but both of them Russell Group4
2
1992 marked the end of the binary divide in the UK that separated polytechnics from universities. Thereafter polytechnics
were given university status and are often still referred to as ‘new’ or, alternatively, ‘modern’ universities.
3
I refer to these two specific universities as indicative proxies for the two extremes of the spectrum of institutional academic
status in the UK. My selection of them is influenced by their capacity, together, to provide a neat alliterative example of two
extremes and does not imply denigration of their respective institutional performance or capacity.
4
The Russell Group is an association, currently chaired by Leeds University’s vice chancellor, Professor Michael Arthur, of 20
major research-intensive universities of the UK (http://www.russellgroup.ac.uk)
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universities – I suggest that since Crace penned this brief newspaper report little, if anything, relating to
its content has changed. In 1993 my own working life mirrored most aspects of that of Oxbridge don,
Martin Weale, as described by Crace. Today it still mirrors Crace’s outline account of it (substituting my
various professional association council meetings for his official meetings at the Treasury and at the
Central Statistical Office).
Its multiplicity makes it difficult to depict academic professionalism and draw temporally-based
(‘then’ and ‘now’) comparisons of what it looks/looked like because ‘it’ - academic professionalism as a
singular entity - is an elusive concept. Which academic professionalism would be the focus of such a
depiction or comparison: that of Cambridge or that of Cumbria? Neither could reasonably be considered
typical or indicative of any academic professionalism other than that of the sector or context that it
represents.
Writing in the late 1990s I lamented the dearth of comprehensive accounts of the nature of
academics’ working lives and of their work-related attitudes (Evans and Abbott, 1998). At that time the
knowledge base relating to the UK context comprised principally, and was dominated by, a few key
studies (Becher, 1989; Halsey and Trow, 1971; Halsey, 1979; 1992). Now it is considerably augmented,
though material that focuses narrowly and specifically on what is labelled academic professionalism
represents a very small proportion of it; more commonly, if it features at all, professionalism does so as
an issue within broader examination of academic working life or its components. Herein may be
identified a lacuna in the scholarship of academic working life: with a very few notable exceptions (e.g.
Nixon, 2001; Nixon et al., 2001) professionalism tends not to be singled out as a feature of academia and
identified and defined as such. As a concept it remains relatively un(der)-examined within research and
scholarship into higher education, hence conceptualisations of it remain under-developed. As I have
already observed, where professionalism in the context of academia is included in examinations and
analyses by researchers and scholars of higher education it is seldom defined stipulatively. But since
professionalism is recognised by sociologists of the professions as a fluid and dynamic concept whose
definition is disputed, the conceptual and definitional imprecision that pervades much of its treatment by
researchers of higher education – and which implies that it is an unproblematic term whose meaning is
clear to everyone - is a significant weakness. As Freidson (1994, p. 169) suggests, ‘much of the debate
about professionalism is clouded by unstated assumptions and inconsistent and incomplete usages’.
Yet so much hangs on its definition and conceptualisation since it is a construct upon which are
dependent the constructs of several other currently key issues in research into higher education.
Professionalisation and deprofessionalisation are obvious examples, but professional development is
another, less well recognised, example. ‘New’ professionalisms, for example - which have been the focus
of attention from higher education policy analysts – are seldom explicitly recognised as vehicles of
professional development, yet they clearly must be so. The conceptualisation of professionalism that I
present in this paper is intended as a contribution towards filling this conceptual gap in the field. Related
to this, it is also proposed as a framework for analysing and comparing professionalisms by depicting
them in a structured form that facilitates comprehensive description and comparison.
Representations of professionalism: ‘types’ and limitations
In the academic literature that has accumulated to date, academic professionalism as I define it (even if it
is not identified explicitly as such by the authors) is depicted by qualitative descriptive analysis (e.g.
Åkerlind, 2008; Bourdieu, 1984; Deem and Lucas, 2007; Frost and Jean, 2003) or by more quantitative
data (e.g. Aarrevaara & Hölttä, 2008; Coates et al., 2008; Cummings, 2008; Fairweather, 2009; Locke,
2008; Metcalfe, 2008; Rostan, 2008; Teichler, 2008; Wright, 2005). Halsey’s (1992) work is one of the
best known examples of the latter. At the time of its publication it was distinctive in its
representativenesss and as what is generally accepted as an accurate portrayal of what was then involved
in being a British academic. However, Halsey’s surveys were large scale and his predominantly
quantitative data reveal interesting trends and are generalisable and informative, but they are limited
insofar as they present what is, for the most part, a surface account of academic life that does not delve
deeply into examination of individual perspectives and attitudes. More illuminative in this respect are
Bourdieu’s (1984) and Becher’s (1989) studies of academic culture. But – in keeping with the nature of
qualitative studies - their narrower respective foci on sociological analyses of power and elitism in
academia, and what are essentially epistemological considerations, create a richer and more detailed, but
8
rather less complete, picture. Representing analyses of primary data from academics about academic life,
these are examples of studies of what I have called ‘enacted’ professionalism (Evans, 2008, p. 29):
‘professional practice as observed, perceived and interpreted (by any observer – from outside or within
the relevant professional group, and including those doing the “enacting”). Of the three ‘reified states’ of
professionalism that I identify (Evans, 2008) (the other two being ‘demanded’ or ‘requested’
professionalism, and ‘prescribed’ professionalism), only ‘enacted’ professionalism, I argue, represents
‘reality’ (albeit a phenomenologically determined reality); the other two represent wishful thinking or
visions of what ought to be, rather than observation of what is.
Common among what may be placed within the broad category of qualitative accounts are
analyses or commentaries that are not directly derived from primary empirical research data, but, rather,
present the authors’ own reasoned arguments and views. Such analyses generally incorporate authorial
speculation: informed guesswork – or hunches. This is informed in many cases by secondary data from
referenced or cited studies, but the deduction derived from these nevertheless goes beyond the data. These
analyses represent ‘deduced or assumed professionalism’: a fourth category that I have now added to my
list of ‘reified’ states. It is a self-explanatory label: distinct from prescribed professionalism since it does
not involve prescription, it represents reasoned deduction and/or assumption about what must have
occurred, what must be the case, or what is likely to occur. Characterised by analysis that goes beyond
empirical data, it cannot constitute enacted professionalism since it is derived from deduction, rather than
empirical observation. Examples of it are conveyed by the following indicative quotes:
Overall, academics have lost their monopoly of influence over organisational goals, strategies and
structures, which is not to say that they have lost their voice entirely. Traditional structures and
processes of collegial decision-making are diluting, but old and new forms of informal codetermination still provide academics with the means to exercise their powers (Enders et al, 2009,
p. 43).
… the academic profession, which has been greatly expanded and diversified by the development
of mass higher education systems, has to struggle to identify new notions of professionalism. The
two traditional sources of its professionalism – first as public servants committed to public values
that transcend immediate, and individual, advantage; and secondly, as guardians of technical
expertise grounded in specialist academic disciplines – have both been undermined … on the
whole the academic profession, like many other professions, finds itself lost in a post-modern fog
(partly, of course, of its own making) which makes it difficult to sustain its value structures – and
in a volatile and transgressive knowledge society which makes it equally difficult to maintain the
social institutions that represent its identity (Scott, 2009, pp. 69-70).
… professional practice is being more or less radically restructured, sometimes by direct
government intervention, sometimes as a result of the more indirect but no less potent effects of
marketization. All this has had profound consequences for professionals, particularly with regard
to their relationship to knowledge, to clients, and to the organizational structures within which
most of them now work (Beck & Young, 2005, p. 183).
Limitations
Each of these ‘types’ of representations of academic professionalism – quantitative and qualitative – has
much to contribute to the knowledge base and their various examples have combined to enhance it. Yet to
varying degrees they generally share three related limitations: first, they often fail to make explicit the
conceptualisation of academic professionalism that underpins them; second, the range of dimensions or
components of professionalism that they examine is often limited (though in some cases this may
justifiably reflect an interpretation or implicit conceptualisation of professionalism that is narrower than
mine); third – and particularly applicable to qualitative representations – they often lack a structured
analytical framework that both ensures comprehensive analyses and facilitates and clarifies comparative
analyses, such as ‘then and now’ comparisons, or cross-context comparisons. Lack of conceptual clarity
and definitional precision is thus the basis of a succession of resultant limitations, since effective analysis
of so many issues is dependent upon clarification of what is meant or understood by ‘professionalism’.
9
I do not suggest that we should necessarily have, or seek, consensus on how we interpret and
define professionalism, nor that my own conceptualisation and definition are necessarily superior to any
others, particularly since, as I have observed, professionalism is such a contested concept. Yet in the
absence of an explicit and reasoned definition or interpretation from the authors I have no alternative but
to evaluate analyses of academic professionalism on the basis of my own understanding of the term.
Measured against this yardstick, I find most analyses fall short of depicting or examining academic
professionalism in relation to the fullness and complexity of its multidimensionality; rather, they present
an incomplete picture of it. (It is, of course, quite justifiable to examine academic professionalism in part,
focusing on only one or a few of its components or dimensions in order to achieve analytical depth at the
micro-level, but most incomplete pictures evidently reflect ignorance of professionalism’s
multidimensionality, rather than focused selection of its dimensions.) This makes comparative analyses
particularly difficult, and it potentially dilutes their authenticity since the dimensions of professionalism
identified and depicted in each unit of comparison may not necessarily match up. It is, for example,
difficult to make meaningful comparisons of two depictions of professionalism if one is focused
exclusively on academics’ autonomy and the other exclusively on academics’ value systems. It is equally
unsatisfactory – to take another example - to compare representations of enacted professionalism with
representations of deduced professionalism.
A BETTER WAY? A NEW ANALYTICAL FRAMEWORK
Used as an analytical framework, my conceptual model has the potential to inject a degree of precision
and regulation into depictions and comparisons of professionalisms. This may be achieved by using what
I currently identify as professionalism’s eleven dimensions (shown in Figure 1) as categories for
collecting or analysing data, or, ideally, both. To illustrate how this might work it is helpful to express
each dimension in the form of a question (or questions) that address(es) it, as exemplified in figure 2.
Figure 2: the dimensions of professionalism expressed as indicative questions
dimension
processual
procedural
productive
competential
perceptual
evaluative
motivational
epistemological
rationalistic
comprehensive
analytical
dimension expressed as indicative question(s)
What processes do practitioners apply to their work?
What procedures are applied to practitioners’ work?
What is the output of practitioners’ work? How productive are practitioners?
What skills and competences to practitioners apply to their work? What skills and
competences do they require?
What beliefs, views and perceptions do practitioners hold? What beliefs, views and
perceptions shape and underpin their work? What self-perceptions do practitioners hold?
What values do practitioners hold? What values shape and underpin their work? What
matters to them? What things are important to them?
How motivated are practitioners? What motivates them? What influences their job
satisfaction? What influences their morale?
What are the bases of practitioners’ knowledge and knowledge structures?
What degree of rationality underpins practitioners’ work?
What do practitioners know and understand? What is the extent of their understanding
and knowledge?
What degree of analyticism do practitioners apply to their practice?
Used at the research design stage these questions could serve as research questions, shaping the entire
study. They could equally well serve as a framework for studies that gather primary empirical data and
for analyses and commentaries that represent deduced or assumed professionalism or prescribed
professionalism. For comparative studies that draw upon either primary or secondary data they can serve
to match up parallel data and reveal imbalance of coverage (that is, where some but not all of the studies
10
provide relevant data). Drawing upon data from one of my own studies, below I demonstrate the model’s
capacity as an analytical framework.
The study, whose design and findings are presented in detail elsewhere (Evans & Abbott, 1998),
was prompted by a contemporary debate (in the mid 1990s) within the UK’s higher education community
on the quality of its teaching. The purpose of the research, conducted over twelve months beginning in
1993, was shaped by concern not only that sweeping assertions about generally poor university teaching
lacked a convincing evidential basis, but also by the implications for academics’ workloads of the
teaching improvement discourse and agenda. It seemed that academics were in danger of being asked to
do more and to do it better, with no convincing evidence that what they were being asked to fix was, in
fact, broken. My study was thus conceived as a mechanism for providing a small empirical evidential
contribution to the debate. I employed convenience sampling to identify as a suitable case a researchintensive, ‘old’ university in the UK (i.e. one that had enjoyed university status before the end of the
binary divide in 1992). The research objectives were focused on uncovering the perspectives on aspects
of their working lives of a sample of twenty academics representing four subjects: physics, law,
education, and English and American studies.
Understanding and depicting academic professionalism explicitly was not one of the study’s
stated objectives because, at that time, ‘professionalism’ was simply not a term that I considered using
nor was it a concept that I was interested in examining. Retrospectively I can see that much – if not all of the data provided by this small sample nevertheless relate to what I now categorise as academic
professionalism. But there are also gaps in the data. Since I did not set out to examine professionalism as I
now conceptualise it, data relating to some of what I now identify as the specific dimensions of
professionalism are in short supply; some dimensions are better covered than others. These data
nevertheless contribute towards a depiction (albeit a rough sketch) of academic professionalism as it
appeared over fifteen years ago within a specific institutional context. Despite its limitations, my dataset
is perfectly adequate for indicating the potential of my conceptual model as an analytical framework.
A dimensionality-based analysis of academic professionalism within a UK Russell Group university
in the mid 1990s: outlining the analytical process
Although I draw upon the dataset from my own study (Evans and Abbott, 1998), the data now serve as
secondary data that I have reanalysed within the framework of the components and dimensions of
professionalism identified in my current conceptualisation of it. The reanalysis was rather more time
consuming and laborious than if my original data collection had been within this framework. It involved
re-reading the original research interview transcripts, searching for evidence of each of the eleven
dimensions, which I then extracted and, representing the data display stage, sorted and classified as
relating to a specific dimension. A table showing these selected data is presented in Appendix 1, and three
of its rows – those relating to three dimensions: procedural, motivational and analytical – are reproduced
in Figure 3, below. (The data displayed in Appendix 1 are broadly representative of the research data in
its entirety, particularly in relation to the quantity of data that applies to each dimension, but they
nevertheless constitute only a sample of the available relevant data.)
Presenting analysed data in a table, as I have done, is simply one way of facilitating data analysis.
I do not imply that tabulation is necessarily the best mode of dissemination of findings. The manner and
style in which are presented the analysed data - which then become the findings – must clearly correlate
and fit in with the ‘type’ of study and its purpose. Researchers who wish to present rich, qualitative data
and use their findings to convey an evocative image of academic professionalism, perhaps through case
studies or vignettes, may choose to present large chunks of illustrative prose to depict and examine the
different dimensions of professionalism (perhaps using them as subheadings) and reveal its complexity
through the interaction between dimensions. Those interested in rather more quantitative representations
may prefer to present their findings in a more structured mode, which may indeed involve tabulation.
There are numerous options and permutations for displaying data or presenting findings within the
dimensionality framework: instead of using continuous prose, as I have done in Figure 3, data may, for
example, be presented as bullet points, or represented by illustrative quotes from research interviews or
responses to questionnaire items. Quantification may also be added, such as through numerically-based
indicators of, inter alia: the proportion of their work time that academics estimate each dimension
11
typically takes up, or their quantification of its importance to them as a component or dimension of their
working lives. Such quantification will potentially facilitate comparisons of different professionalisms,
but my experience of experimenting with it (albeit briefly) initially suggests that it is only applicable to
certain dimensions, such as the processual and the competential dimensions – or, at least, that it is much
easier to apply to certain ones than to others.
It is perhaps in relation to comparisons of professionalisms that the dimensionality-based
analytical framework is most useful. Here it really seems to come into its own, providing structure and
order to the representations of two or more professionalisms. To demonstrate how this may occur,
Appendix 2 shows how two academic professionalisms may be represented alongside each other, for ease
of comparison in relation to the eleven dimensions. This represents ‘then and now’ professionalisms of
academics employed in the UK’s Russell Group universities.
Since my purpose in this paper is principally to present my original conceptualisation of
professionalism and demonstrate its potential as an analytical framework I have taken liberties with the
data in Appendix 2, since their authenticity is not a key issue. So while the representation of academic
professionalism in the 1990s is evidenced by data from my study, in the absence of authentic researchbased data on current academic professionalism, I have used anecdotally-derived material: a combination
Figure 3: Illustration, drawing on a sample of indicative data from Evans & Abbott’s (1998) study of
teaching and learning in higher education, of how the dimensions of professionalism may be used as a
framework for analysing data
dimension
procedural
dimension expressed
indicative relevant data
as indicative
question(s)
What procedures are
A range of institutional and departmental procedures were generally adhered to,
applied to
some formal and some informal. The latter included procedures for decision
practitioners’ work?
referrals about day-to-day issues, which reflected the chain of command or
accountability (e.g. running ideas and proposals past the head of department,
relevant committee chair, or, in cases such as claims on or requests for secretarial
assistance, the secretarial team leader or supervisor). More formal procedures
predominantly involved referrals to cttees., such as:
module/course proposals; requests for financial support for conference attendance;
disciplining students.
Academics also adhered to ethical procedures relating to research, such as research
subjects’ informed consent; research subject anonymity and the confidentiality of
material, as well as collegial-related ethics such as intellectual property; co-author
rights; peer review confidentiality and avoidance of plagiarism.
motivational
analytical
How motivated are
practitioners? What
motivates them?
What influences their
job satisfaction?
What influences their
morale?
What degree of
analyticism do
practitioners apply to
their practice?
In relation to research, procedures that reflect convention within disciplines were
adhered to, such as submitting papers to only one journal at a time; multiple-author
name order conventions, etc.
Nearly all were highly motivated. They were motivated principally by the need to
build up good research profiles. Most were motivated intrinsically by the pursuit of
knowledge and their roles in contributing to the knowledge base. Some were
motivated by the desire for self-aggrandisement through prolific research-related
output. Many were motivated by the institutional research ethos and the
university’s high rank and reputation.
All manifested analyticism in relation to teaching, research and, in most cases,
micro-political processes. They variously examined and questioned the bases of
their practice, their values, their goals and ambitions, their competence, their
perceptions, their attitudes and their emotions.
of my own first-hand experiences and impressionistically-derived evidence of how my numerous Russell
Group colleagues and friends manifest their professionalism. In places I have used myself as a proxy for
12
the whole of Russell Group academia, simply in order to generate indicative data! The point of the table
in Appendix 2 is to show the degree of structure and precision (depending on the extent of detail
incorporated into the data displayed in each cell) that may be applied to the comparison of authentic data.
In column 2 of the table I use bold font to highlight discrepancies between the 1990 and the 2010 data.
Figure 4, below, serves as an example, presenting the first row of the table, which relates to the
processual dimension of professionalism.
Figure 4: Comparative indicative illustration of the nature of the processual dimension of academic
professionalism in a UK research-intensive university in 1994 and 2010
Indicative relevant research data illustrating academic
professionalism in 1994
Most academics identified two main components to their work:
teaching and research, with administrative duties identified as a
third component. All involved some human interaction,
particularly teaching, which involved planned and ad hoc
interaction with students and teaching team colleagues, as well
as with secretarial support staff (who typed and photocopied
course documentation, processed letters to students and dealt
with room bookings and resources.) Some tutors processed their
own letters to students. Research involved interaction with
funders and potential funders (through letters, phone calls, and
face-to-face meetings).
Indicative anecdotally-derived data illustrating academic
professionalism in 2010
Most academics identify two main components to their work:
teaching and research, with administrative duties identified as a
third component. All involve some human interaction, particularly
teaching, which involves planned and ad hoc interaction with
students and teaching team colleagues, and, to a much lesser extent,
with secretarial support staff. Research involves interaction with
funders and potential funders (through phone calls, emails and
face-to-face meetings). Research also involves networking on a
national and international scale, mostly through email, but also
face-to-face at conferences and seminars. Most interaction with
institutional colleagues is through email. Apart from course
delivery through weekly classes and occasional arranged tutorials,
most interaction with taught students is through email or the
institution’s virtual learning environment (VLE), where
teaching materials and resources are deposited for the
students’ use, and messages and notices posted. Interaction
with research students is through email and face-to-face
supervision meetings.
Regular visits to the library were required to support both
teaching and research – in the case of research, academics kept
up to date with literature in the field by reading the latest
journals issues; in the case of teaching, they evaluated and
accessed texts for inclusion in reading lists and weekly learning
activities.
Visits to the library are quite rare and are required for
borrowing and returning books, since most journal articles are
accessible online.
Day-to-day administrative processes included emptying pigeon
holes and responding to mail, writing and sending memos to
colleagues, making and receiving phone calls, photocopying,
and, in some cases, sending and answering emails. Other, less
frequent, administrative processes included arranging and
attending meetings.
Day-to-day administrative processes mainly involve sending
and answering emails and are usually done off-campus. Other,
less frequent, administrative processes include arranging and
attending meetings.
Some processes explicitly reflected ethical codes of practice or,
less formally, individuals’ own self-imposed ethical behaviour,
such as avoiding taking advantage of lower paid staff
(secretarial; ancillary) and of research students and assistants.
Some processes explicitly reflect ethical codes of practice or, less
formally, individuals’ own self-imposed ethical behaviour, such as
avoiding taking advantage of lower paid staff (secretarial;
ancillary) and of research students and assistants.
Some processes were ethically dubious, such as inflating
expenses claims and, taking advantage of the freedom to work
away from the office, using contracted working hours for
personal pursuits (going Christmas shopping; cleaning the
house; attending school concerts).
Some processes are ethically dubious, such as inflating expenses
claims and, taking advantage of the freedom to work away from the
office, using contracted working hours for personal pursuits (going
Christmas shopping; cleaning the house; attending school
concerts). However, in many cases such unauthorised ‘misuse’
of contracted work time is justified ethically by being more
than balanced by working to excess – far beyond contracted
hours – on research and other work-related activities.
13
CONCLUDING REMARKS
Although the substance of the data that I present in this ECER paper is peripheral to my discussion, and
bearing in mind that the data in column 2 of the tables in Appendix 2 and Figure 4 must be considered
scientifically unreliable, it is nevertheless worth pointing out that the comparison indicates some
potentially interesting ‘findings’. If these data could, indeed, be considered broadly representative of
present day academic professionalism in the UK’s Russell Group universities then we may conclude that
the greatest degree of change to academic professionalism has occurred in relation to the behavioural
component, and the least change - indeed, no change of significance – is evident in relation to the
intellectual component. The
attitudinal component has also remained largely unchanged. The biggest impact on academic working life
over the last fifteen years would appear to be the proliferation of information technology, which has
brought about changes to the processual and productive dimensions of academic professionalism. Those
dimensions of professionalism that, to some analysts, represent the core of its substance: the evaluative
and perceptual dimensions (which relate respectively to academics’ values and value systems, and to their
beliefs and belief systems, and which combine to shape their outlooks and attitudes) appear largely
unchanged. However, this observation’s reliability is considerably undermined by its being based, in part,
on a highly questionable source: the anecdotally- and experientially-derived evidence of a single
academic. Yet, interestingly, it corroborates Kolsaker’s (2009) findings from a survey of over 7000
academics in a range of UK institutions. Examining the impact on academics’ working lives of postreform managerialism she found: ‘in contrast to much of the literature that predicts deprofessionalisation’
(p.520) ‘… [a]cademics appear, on the whole, to accept managerialism not only as an external technology
of control, but as a facilitator of enhanced performance, professionalism and status’ (p. 522).
On another, more fundamental, matter, the potential of my conceptual model as an analytical tool
is dependent upon the soundness of its componential structure and the classification that underpins this;
these make it what it is. Yet I am uncertain of having got them right. Indeed, it is not unlikely that, at this
stage of the model’s development, they are flawed. The issue is whether I have omitted any components
or included any that should not be there. It is important to consider not simply whether all identified
components may be evidenced, but whether their hierarchical alignment is sound. Similarly, whilst it may
always be possible to identify components that should, but do not, appear in the model, a key
consideration should be the classificatory level represented by such apparently omitted components. The
issue is one of overlap: whether each identified component on any one hierarchical level or stratum (i.e.
first or second tier components) is self-sufficient insofar as it may not be considered to be subsumed
within, or to be a sub-component of, any other component sharing the same hierarchical level. This is
extremely difficult to ascertain, not least because, in the social sciences, specific relationality that
underpins categorical schemes and classificatory strata is often difficult – if not impossible – to determine
and hence is often subjectively, rather than consensually, determined. There will no doubt be those who
feel I have omitted this or that dimension of component of professionalism or included a dimension that
should not be included. I welcome such criticism, and place my model in the public domain in the hope
that others - perhaps those attending ECER 2010 - will join me in developing it and taking it forward.
Yet, in a sense, the accuracy of the model – if, indeed, accuracy is achievable, which I doubt – is
not the point. The point is to contribute a theoretical perspective that will enhance the knowledge base
relating to academic working life by deepening our understanding of the multidimensionality of academic
professionalism and raising awareness of how this may inform analyses of its changing nature.
If they are claiming that it has changed, analysts and researchers should specify in relation to
which of its components or dimensions academic professionalism has changed, and demonstrate the
degree and nature of the change. There has not been the space within this paper to present anything other
than a limited sample of rather superficial data to demonstrate my model’s potential for facilitating this
level of specificity. I have provided only a taste of the structure that it could inject into the bases of rich
and descriptive depictions of and comparisons between academic professionalisms. I began this paper by
observing that what would be ideal for injecting greater authenticity into the discourse on the changing
nature of academic work, is a tool for analysing academic professionalism, for depicting it with clarity
and structure, and for examining changes to it by comparing clear and structured depictions of it as it was
and as it is. I do not, by any means, claim to have realised that ideal, but I hope I have made a modest
contribution towards achieving it.
14
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Changing Academic Profession Project, 2008. Hiroshima: the Research Institute for Higher
Education, Hiroshima University, 131-152.
Troman, G. (1996) The rise of the new professionals? The restructuring of primary teachers’ work and
professionalism. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 17 (4), 473-487.
Trow, M. (1997) More trouble than it’s worth. The Times Higher Education Supplement, 24th Nov., p.26.
Williams, K. (2008) Troubling the concept of the ‘academic profession’ in 21st century higher education.
Higher Education, 56, 533-544.
Wright, M. (2005) Always at odds? Congruence in faculty beliefs about teaching at a research university.
Journal of Higher Education, 76 (3), 331-353.
Ylijoki, O. (2010) Acceleration of time in academic work. Paper presented within the network 22
symposium, ‘Adapting to circumstances and changing with the times? Is this the dawn of a new
academic professionalism in Europe?’ at the European Conference on Educational Research,
University of Helsinki, 25-27 August.
17
Appendix 1: Illustration, drawing on a sample of indicative data from Evans & Abbott’s (1998) study of teaching and learning in
higher education, of how the dimensions of professionalism may be used as a framework for analysing data
dimension
processual
dimension expressed as
indicative question(s)
What processes do
practitioners apply to their
work?
indicative relevant data
Most academics identified two main components to their work: teaching and research, with administrative duties identified as a
third component. All involved some human interaction, particularly teaching, which involved planned and ad hoc interaction with
students and teaching team colleagues, as well as with secretarial support staff (who typed and photocopied course
documentation, processed letters to students and dealt with room bookings and resources.) Some tutors processed their own
letters to students. Research involved interaction with funders and potential funders (through letters, phone calls, and face-to-face
meetings).
Regular visits to the library were required to support both teaching and research – in the case of research, academics kept up to
date with literature in the field by reading the latest journals issues; in the case of teaching, they evaluated and accessed texts for
inclusion in reading lists and weekly learning activities.
Day-to-day administrative processes included emptying pigeon holes and responding to mail, writing and sending memos to
colleagues, making and receiving phone calls, photocopying, and, in some cases, sending and answering emails. Other, less
frequent, administrative processes included arranging and attending meetings.
Some processes explicitly reflected ethical codes of practice or, less formally, individuals’ own self-imposed ethical behaviour,
such as avoiding taking advantage of lower paid staff (secretarial; ancillary) and of research students and research assistants.
procedural
What procedures are applied
to practitioners’ work?
Some processes were ethically dubious, such as inflating expenses claims and, taking advantage of the freedom to work away
from the office, using contracted working hours for personal pursuits (going Christmas shopping; cleaning the house; attending
school concerts).
A range of institutional and departmental procedures were generally adhered to, some formal and some informal. The latter
included procedures for decision referrals about day-to-day issues, which reflected the chain of command or accountability (e.g.
running ideas and proposals past the head of department, relevant committee chair, or, in cases such as claims on or requests for
secretarial assistance, the secretarial team leader or supervisor). More formal procedures predominantly involved referrals to
cttees., such as: module/course proposals; requests for financial support for conference attendance; disciplining students.
Academics also adhered to ethical procedures relating to research, such as research subjects’ informed consent; research subject
anonymity and the confidentiality of material, as well as collegial-related ethics such as intellectual property; co-author rights;
peer review confidentiality and avoidance of plagiarism.
18
productive
What is the output of
practitioners’ work? How
productive are practitioners?
In relation to research, procedures that reflect convention within disciplines were adhered to, such as submitting papers to only
one journal at a time; multiple-author name order conventions, etc.
In relation to teaching, output was represented by course design, creation and modification (including single lectures), delivery,
assessment and the production of learning resources. (A law professor spoke of a board game that she had designed and made to
teach the law statutes.)
In relation to research, output in the form of publications differed according to subject, seniority and experience. For education
academics the average ‘respectable’ output was 3 peer reviewed journal articles per year; one academic who reported over 6
publications was considered prolific. Authored books were identified as output, but not all academics had authored one or more
book(s). More than 2 books was rare. Other output included conference and seminar presentations and knowledge transfer: to
policy makers and practitioners.
Output was determined not by contractual hours but by the needs of the job and of their own ambitions. Some spoke of having
stayed up all night, on occasions, to meet deadlines (e.g. research reports; research bids).
competential
What skills and competences
to practitioners apply to their
work? What skills and
competences do they require?
One (physics) academic was distinct in admitting to working excessively long hours, 7 days a week and during holidays.
Communication skills – mainly relating to teaching (lecture/seminar delivery and ad hoc student-tutor interaction) - were needed
by all academics. Several manifested poor people skills in relation to students.
Research and scholarship skills were needed; their specific nature varied between subjects but included: writing (well enough to
secure good publications);
networking; oral presentation.
Micropolitical skills were key to succeeding in many issues, particularly those related to departmental power struggles and
enhancing one’s own profile and advancing one’s position within the department and wider university.
perceptual
What beliefs, views and
perceptions do practitioners
hold? What beliefs, views and
perceptions shape and
underpin their work? What
self-perceptions do
practitioners hold?
Academics observed that ICT skills were becoming increasingly important, mainly for simple computer use, including word
processing and emails. The English and American studies academics had only recently been provided with PCs within the
university’s roll-out programme.
Most saw themselves as relatively high status academics, in some cases on the basis of their own achievements and in other cases
by virtue of their employment at one of the UK’s leading universities. Their identities were as research-focused and researchactive academics, in many cases privileged to be based at the university in question.
They all perceived a synergy between research and teaching, some citing examples of how the one component of their work had
fed into the other.
Many believed that students should be self-motivated and their own role as tutors/teachers should be facilitative rather than
19
didactic. Many believed that students could learn as much from each other as from the tutors.
Several thought that students ought to be more self-directive in their study and less dependent on tutorial advice and assistance.
Some believed that academics as teachers have a pastoral and advisory responsibility towards students, others felt under no
obligation to support students in such ways and resented students’ requests or expectations for extra support or advice.
evaluative
What values do practitioners
hold? What values shape and
underpin their work? What
matters to them? What things
are important to them?
Research was valued either as the pre-eminent work activity or valued equally with teaching. Their research profiles were very
important to the academics.
To some the impact of their research on policy and practice was very important.
Some thought it was important to ‘jump through the hoops’ held out by this research-intensive university in terms of research and
publications.
The quality of their performance as teachers was important to them, but not all valued or prioritised teaching as a component of
their work..
Some of them valued personal interaction with students and felt it was important to respond to students’ needs.
Some valued their research time above students’ needs.
Good departmental management was considered important.
Equity and justice were valued, mainly in relation to their own treatment and conditions, but sometimes also in relation to the
treatment of academic colleagues, students and secretarial staff.
Being able to park their cars on campus was a key issue for some.
motivational
epistemological
How motivated are
practitioners? What motivates
them? What influences their
job satisfaction? What
influences their morale?
What are the bases of
Some valued good collegial relations and friendships at work..
Nearly all were highly motivated. They were motivated principally by the need to build up good research profiles. Most were
motivated intrinsically by the pursuit of knowledge and their roles in contributing to the knowledge base. Some were motivated
by the desire for self-aggrandisement through prolific research-related output. Many were motivated by the institutional research
ethos and the university’s high rank and reputation.
Each was influenced by the epistemic culture within which her/his work was located. More generally, their knowledge structures
20
rationalistic
comprehensive
analytical
practitioners’ knowledge and
knowledge structures?
What degree of rationality
underpins practitioners’ work?
What do practitioners know
and understand? What is the
extent of their understanding
and knowledge?
What degree of analyticism do
practitioners apply to their
practice?
were variously underpinned by rationality and by empirical or theoretical evidence.
In all cases work was underpinned by rationality. This was in evidence not only in written work but also in oral exchanges with
students and in collegial conversation.
All appeared to know and understand research methodology relevant to their subject and their own research, as well as the
substance of their own research area. Each appeared an expert in her/his specific field.
All appeared to know and understand the university’s institutional priorities and goals and the infrastructure that supported these.
They knew and understood what the university valued and wanted from its academic staff.
Most understood the principles of good university teaching and how to motivate students and maximise their learning. Several
physics academics manifested what were considered poor teaching methods and approaches by general standards that were
prevalent at the time. Within their discipline, however, such approaches and methods were the norm.
All manifested analyticism in relation to teaching, research and, in most cases, micro-political processes. They variously
examined and questioned the bases of their practice, their values, their goals and ambitions, their competence, their perceptions,
their attitudes and their emotions.
21
Appendix 2 Comparative indicative illustration of the nature of academic professionalism in a UK research-intensive university in
1994 and 2010
Indicative relevant research data illustrating academic professionalism in 1994
Most academics identified two main components to their work: teaching and research,
with administrative duties identified as a third component. All involved some human
interaction, particularly teaching, which involved planned and ad hoc interaction with
students and teaching team colleagues, as well as with secretarial support staff (who
typed and photocopied course documentation, processed letters to students and dealt
with room bookings and resources.) Some tutors processed their own letters to
students. Research involved interaction with funders and potential funders (through
letters, phone calls, and face-to-face meetings).
Indicative anecdotally-derived data illustrating academic professionalism in 2010
Most academics identify two main components to their work: teaching and research, with
administrative duties identified as a third component. All involve some human interaction,
particularly teaching, which involves planned and ad hoc interaction with students and
teaching team colleagues, and, to a much lesser extent, with secretarial support staff.
Research involves interaction with funders and potential funders (through phone calls,
emails and face-to-face meetings). Research also involves networking on a national and
international scale, mostly through email, but also face-to-face at conferences and
seminars. Most interaction with institutional colleagues is through email. Apart from
course delivery through weekly classes and occasional arranged tutorials, most interaction
with taught students is through email or the institution’s virtual learning environment
(VLE), where teaching materials and resources are deposited for the students’ use,
and messages and notices posted. Interaction with research students is through email
and face-to-face supervision meetings.
Regular visits to the library were required to support both teaching and research – in
the case of research, academics kept up to date with literature in the field by reading
the latest journals issues; in the case of teaching, they evaluated and accessed texts for
inclusion in reading lists and weekly learning activities.
Visits to the library are quite rare and are required for borrowing and returning
books, since most journal articles are accessible online.
Day-to-day administrative processes included emptying pigeon holes and responding
to mail, writing and sending memos to colleagues, making and receiving phone calls,
photocopying, and, in some cases, sending and answering emails. Other, less frequent,
administrative processes included arranging and attending meetings.
Day-to-day administrative processes mainly involve sending and answering emails
and are usually done off-campus. Other, less frequent, administrative processes include
arranging and attending meetings.
Some processes explicitly reflected ethical codes of practice or, less formally,
individuals’ own self-imposed ethical behaviour, such as avoiding taking advantage of
lower paid staff (secretarial; ancillary) and of research students and research assistants.
Some processes explicitly reflect ethical codes of practice or, less formally, individuals’
own self-imposed ethical behaviour, such as avoiding taking advantage of lower paid staff
(secretarial; ancillary) and of research students and research assistants.
Some processes were ethically dubious, such as inflating expenses claims and, taking
advantage of the freedom to work away from the office, using contracted working
hours for personal pursuits (going Christmas shopping; cleaning the house; attending
Some processes are ethically dubious, such as inflating expenses claims and, taking
advantage of the freedom to work away from the office, using contracted working hours for
personal pursuits (going Christmas shopping; cleaning the house; attending school
22
school concerts).
A range of institutional and departmental procedures were generally adhered to, some
formal and some informal. The latter included procedures for decision referrals about
day-to-day issues, which reflected the chain of command or accountability (e.g.
running ideas and proposals past the head of department, relevant committee chair, or,
in cases such as claims on or requests for secretarial assistance, the secretarial
team leader or supervisor). More formal procedures predominantly involved
referrals to cttees., such as: module/course proposals; requests for financial support for
conference attendance; disciplining students.
Academics also adhered to ethical procedures relating to research, such as research
subjects’ informed consent; research subject anonymity and the confidentiality of
material, as well as collegial-related ethics such as intellectual property; co-author
rights; peer review confidentiality and avoidance of plagiarism.
In relation to research, procedures that reflect convention within disciplines were
adhered to, such as submitting papers to only one journal at a time; multiple-author
name order conventions, etc.
In relation to teaching, output was represented by course design, creation and
modification (including single lectures), delivery, assessment and the production of
learning resources. (A law professor spoke of a board game that she had designed and
made to teach the law statutes.)
concerts). However, in many cases such unauthorised ‘misuse’ of contracted work
time is justified ethically by being more than balanced by working to excess – far
beyond contracted hours – on research and other work-related activities.
A range of institutional and departmental procedures are generally adhered to, some formal
and some informal. The latter include procedures for decision referrals about day-to-day
issues, which reflect the chain of command or accountability (e.g. running ideas and
proposals past the head of department or relevant committee chair). More formal
procedures predominantly involve referrals to cttees., such as: module/course proposals;
requests for financial support for conference attendance; disciplining students.
Academics also adhere to ethical procedures relating to research, such as research subjects’
informed consent; research subject anonymity and the confidentiality of material, as well as
collegial-related ethics such as intellectual property; co-author rights; peer review
confidentiality and avoidance of plagiarism.
In relation to research, procedures that reflect convention within disciplines are adhered to,
such as submitting papers to only one journal at a time; multiple-author name order
conventions, etc.
In relation to teaching, output is represented by course design, creation and modification
(including single lectures), delivery, assessment and the production of learning resources.
(Many academics use information technology to enhance the student learning
experience, particularly the VLE.)
In relation to research, output in the form of publications differed according to subject,
seniority and experience. For education academics the average ‘respectable’ output
was 3 peer reviewed journal articles per year; one academic who reported over 6
publications was considered prolific. Authored books were identified as output, but not
all academics had authored one or more book(s). More than 2 books was rare. Other
output included conference and seminar presentations and knowledge transfer: to
policy makers and practitioners.
In relation to research, output in the form of publications differs according to subject,
seniority and experience. For education academics the average ‘respectable’ output is at
least 3 peer reviewed journal articles per year; many prolific academics produce in
excess of 6 publications per year and some as many as 10. Authored books are identified
as output; many academics of senior lecturer status have authored at least one book, with
many prolific and distinguished senior academics’ authored books numbering double
figures. Other output includes conference and seminar presentations and knowledge
transfer: to policy makers and practitioners.
Output was determined not by contractual hours but by the needs of the job and of
their own ambitions. Some spoke of having stayed up all night, on occasions, to meet
Output is determined not by contractual hours but by the needs of the job and of
academics’ own ambitions. Many now admit to habitually working excessively long
23
deadlines (e.g. research reports; research bids).
hours in order to enhance their research profile and compete with those with prolific
output profiles.
One (physics) academic was distinct in admitting to working excessively long hours, 7
days a week and during holidays.
Communication skills – mainly relating to teaching (lecture/seminar delivery and ad
hoc student-tutor interaction) - were needed by all academics. Several manifested poor
people skills in relation to students.
Communication skills – mainly relating to teaching (lecture/seminar delivery and ad hoc
student-tutor interaction) - are needed by all academics. Several manifest poor people skills
in relation to students.
Research and scholarship skills were needed; their specific nature varied between
subjects but included: writing (well enough to secure good publications); networking;
oral presentation.
Research and scholarship skills are needed; their specific nature varies between subjects
but includes: writing (well enough to secure good publications); networking; oral
presentation.
Micropolitical skills were key to succeeding in many issues, particularly those related
to departmental power struggles and enhancing one’s own profile and advancing one’s
position within the department and wider university.
Micropolitical skills are key to succeeding in many issues, particularly those related to
departmental power struggles and enhancing one’s own profile and advancing one’s
position within the department and wider university.
Academics observed that ICT skills were becoming increasingly important, mainly for
simple computer use, including word processing and emails. The English and
American studies academics had only recently been provided with PCs within the
university’s roll-out programme.
Most saw themselves as relatively high status academics, in some cases on the basis of
their own achievements and in other cases by virtue of their employment at one of the
UK’s leading universities. Their identities were as research-focused and researchactive academics, in many cases privileged to be based at the university in question.
ICT skills are essential to the work of being an academic. The greatest proportion of
the work involves use of ICT.
They all perceived a synergy between research and teaching, some citing examples of
how the one component of their work had fed into the other.
Although the research-teaching synergy is the subject of current academic research, most
academics perceive a synergy between research and teaching, generally recognising how
the one component of their work feeds into the other.
Many believed that students should be self-motivated and their own role as
tutors/teachers should be facilitative rather than didactic. Many believed that students
could learn as much from each other as from the tutors.
Many believe that students should be self-motivated and their own role as tutors/teachers
should be facilitative rather than didactic. Many believe that students can learn as much
from each other as from the tutors. However, with the proliferation of international
postgraduate student recruitment to UK universities, many of whom, because of their
cultural and educational backgrounds, lack certain scholarship skills such as the
capacity for critical analysis, whilst also struggling to read and express complex
Several thought that students ought to be more self-directive in their study and less
dependent on tutorial advice and assistance.
Most Russell Group academics see themselves as relatively high status academics, in some
cases on the basis of their own achievements and in other cases by virtue of their
employment at the UK’s leading universities. Their identities are predominantly as
research-focused and research-active academics, in many cases (depending on the impact
of recent spending cuts imposed on the UK HE sector and their institution’s response
to these) privileged to be based at leading universities.
24
conceptual ideas in English, academics in their roles as teachers and supervisors are
finding themselves having to be increasingly didactic in some circumstances or accept
work of low quality from students.
Some believed that academics as teachers have a pastoral and advisory responsibility
towards students, others felt under no obligation to support students in such ways and
resented students’ requests or expectations for extra support or advice.
Research was valued either as the pre-eminent work activity or valued equally with
teaching. Their research profiles were very important to the academics.
Some believe that academics as teachers have a pastoral and advisory responsibility
towards students, others feel increasingly under obligation to support international
students in such ways to provide value for money for the fees they are paying.
Research is valued either as the pre-eminent work activity or valued equally with teaching.
Their research profiles are very important to academics.
To some the impact of their research on policy and practice was very important.
To some the impact of their research on policy and practice is very important, particularly
since it is likely that the next research excellence framework will include impact as a
criterion for research quality.
Some thought it was important to ‘jump through the hoops’ held out by this researchintensive university in terms of research and publications.
Some think it was important to ‘jump through the hoops’ held out by their researchintensive universities in terms of research funding and publications.
The quality of their performance as teachers was important to them, but not all valued
or prioritised teaching as a component of their work.
The quality of their performance as teachers is important to them, but not all value or
prioritise teaching as a component of their work.
Some of them valued personal interaction with students and felt it was important to
respond to students’ needs.
Some of them value personal interaction with students and feel it is important to respond to
students’ needs.
Some valued their research time above students’ needs.
Some value their research time above students’ needs.
Good departmental management was considered important.
Good departmental management is considered important.
Equity and justice were valued, mainly in relation to their own treatment and
conditions, but sometimes also in relation to the treatment of academic colleagues,
students and secretarial staff.
Equity and justice are valued, mainly in relation to their own treatment and conditions, but
sometimes also in relation to the treatment of academic colleagues, students and secretarial
staff.
Being able to park their cars on campus was a key issue for some.
Being able to park their cars on campus is a key issue for some.
Some valued good collegial relations and friendships at work.
Nearly all were highly motivated. They were motivated principally by the need to
build up good research profiles. Most were motivated intrinsically by the pursuit of
knowledge and their roles in contributing to the knowledge base. Some were motivated
Some value good collegial relations and friendships at work.
Nearly all are highly motivated. They are motivated principally by the need to build up
good research profiles. Most are motivated intrinsically by the pursuit of knowledge and
their roles in contributing to the knowledge base. Some are motivated by the desire for self-
25
by the desire for self-aggrandisement through prolific research-related output. Many
were motivated by the institutional research ethos and the university’s high rank and
reputation.
Each was influenced by the epistemic culture within which her/his work was located.
More generally, their knowledge structures were variously underpinned by rationality
and by empirical or theoretical evidence.
In all cases work was underpinned by rationality. This was in evidence not only in
written work but also in oral exchanges with students and in collegial conversation.
All appeared to know and understand research methodology relevant to their subject
and their own research, as well as the substance of their own research area. Each
appeared an expert in her/his specific field.
aggrandisement through prolific research-related output. Many are motivated by the
institutional research ethos and the university’s high rank and reputation.
All appeared to know and understand the university’s institutional priorities and goals
and the infrastructure that supported these. They knew and understood what the
university valued and wanted from its academic staff.
All are likely to know and understand the university’s institutional priorities and goals and
the infrastructure that support these. They are likely to know and understand what the
university values and wants from its academic staff.
Most understood the principles of good university teaching and how to motivate
students and maximise their learning. Several physics academics manifested what were
considered poor teaching methods and approaches by general standards that were
prevalent at the time. Within their discipline, however, such approaches and methods
were the norm.
All manifested analyticism in relation to teaching, research and, in most cases, micropolitical processes. They variously examined and questioned the bases of their
practice, their values, their goals and ambitions, their competence, their perceptions,
their attitudes and their emotions.
Most understand the principles of good university teaching and how to motivate students
and maximise their learning.
Each is influenced by the epistemic culture within which her/his work is located. More
generally, their knowledge structures are variously underpinned by rationality and by
empirical or theoretical evidence.
In all cases work is likely to be underpinned by rationality.
All are likely to know and understand research methodology relevant to their subject and
their own research, as well as the substance of their own research area. Each is likely to
appear an expert in her/his specific field.
All are likely to manifest analyticism in relation to teaching, research and, in most cases,
micro-political processes. They variously examine and question the bases of their practice,
their values, their goals and ambitions, their competence, their perceptions, their attitudes
and their emotions.
26