14 AUGUST
2014
Stuart Macdonald on the misery of being expelled from your university
post
The inquiry is
wide-ranging, but ignores supportive witnesses and any evidence of innocence.
The university requires only evidence of guilt
The plight of Thomas Docherty,
suspended these past eight months by the University of Warwick,
prompts me to share my own miserable experience of suspension.
UK universities often suspend academic staff and yet academics know
little about the process. Even the suspension of a friend may not enlighten
them much; when I was suspended in 1997, my colleagues were told I was on leave
of absence and instructed to ask no questions. And as the suspended rarely
return, their suspension is as soon forgotten as they are.
Suspension is the process whereby an employee is expelled while the
employer investigates allegations of wrongdoing. In theory, suspension is a
neutral act. In practice, suspension is nothing of the sort. As used by UK
universities, suspension is all too often the first step in a process intended
to lead only to dismissal.
There may be justification for suspending a doctor accused of
endangering patients, or an accountant of fiddling the books, but what possible
risk is avoided by suspending an academic? Suspension is used because no
suspension would suggest no serious offence, which might undermine the case for
dismissal.
A summons to an immediate and unexpected meeting initiates the process.
No specific allegations are made and no questions allowed. This surreal
ceremony concludes with an order to leave university premises immediately,
taking nothing and talking to nobody. The suspended academic may not set foot
on university property and must not communicate with anyone from the
university.
Union advice to me was to follow the university’s instructions to the
letter: suspended academics are usually dismissed not for any alleged offence,
but for breaking their terms of employment. Obeying the rules of suspension is
one of these, so even my university flat was out of bounds. Since all mail sent
to me at my university address was impounded, I never received the eviction
notices the university sent me, and I never saw my clothes again. For weeks,
only my wife answered the telephone lest the caller had some link with the
university. An unnecessary precaution? Hardly; university officials met lawyers
thrice during my suspension to consider whether I had broken the rules.
With suspension, the academic is “disappeared”. Chaos ensues. Colleagues
must be kept in the dark, but so too must students, funders, research
assistants; a whole academic college is left wondering what is going on.
Lectures and supervisions stop without explanation, students and research
fellows are abandoned, and all research ceases. The damage is immense.
Suspension is also devastating personally. Because no specific
allegations are made, the possibilities seem endless. Not until the university
has completed its internal inquiry are charges laid. This can take weeks while
university officials rummage through files, search email servers and
interrogate staff. The inquiry is wide-ranging, but ignores supportive
witnesses and any evidence of innocence. The university requires only evidence
of guilt.
Suspension is not gardening leave on full pay. The taste of blood sends
some colleagues into feeding frenzy. According to the inquiry’s report, they all
agreed that I was “a most difficult person to work with, had little regard for
bureaucracy and showed little loyalty towards the university”. In my case,
enthusiasts seized the opportunity to demonstrate their loyalty by accusing me
of all manner of sins: some actionable in other circumstances (I had
misappropriated funds or obtained money under false pretences), most just sad
(I had been overheard disagreeing; I had asked questions; I had dealings with
people in other universities). Truth is neither sought nor, in all probability,
expected. In digging for dirt, the university unearthed only an embarrassment
of nonsense.
The accused is allowed no input to the inquiry. A written response to
the inquiry’s report may be compiled – but how? The university has access to
everything: the accused to almost nothing. Hope that sense will prevail fades
as lawyers gather and expenses mount. Isolation breeds despair and depression
as weeks of being a non-person become months and exact their toll on health,
personal relationships and career. With growing self-doubt, pressure mounts to
confess something and end it all.
Then – suddenly – it was over, at least it was for me. Come back, kiss
the vice-chancellor, make up, be forgiven.
But no welcome-back party awaited. Suspension is not followed by
resurrection. Mud sticks and suspension leaves scars. Paranoia is an inevitable
legacy. I returned to an office that had been trashed by vigilantes in search
of evidence of anything. On my reinstatement, I was confronted with pettiness
and spite. I was to be confined to my office, and told to pay for postage and
photocopying. My research assistant was to monitor my loyalty to the
university.
Inevitably, suspension is divisive. It pits loyalty to an academic
college and its values against loyalty to the university, this tested by
willingness to produce evidence of a colleague’s guilt. Burn the witch or be
burned yourself. Fear is what maintains repressive regimes and that is what UK
universities have become. Suspension has nothing to do with justice, and
everything to do with maintaining brand value by detecting and eliminating
non-conformity.
READERS' COMMENTS (3)
How is
the treatment you describe allowed under Employment Law? i would have thought
that the basic requirement of any disciplinary procedures is that the 'accused'
is told what the alleged offence is and who his/her accuser is. it doesn't
appear that this process in anyway obeys the laws of natural justice.
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