“I don’t share my political or religious perspectives at work; I never have”, asserted my experienced professorial colleague over an informal coffee. “A bit of shame, but kind of admirable, right?”, I thought.
I recalled a politics lecturer during my time as an undergraduate, who, like seemingly most of that generation of academics (1990s-00s), believed in impartiality and explicitly stated his liberal neutrality when presenting challenging topics: may the best arguments win. The problem was that through reading his online bio and finding his works in the library, one could very quickly discern his political and philosophical leanings!
When I began teaching philosophy at the same university a few years later, I too attempted to feign neutrality; neither sharing my political nor religious leanings, nor ethnic or cultural heritage. It wasn’t the done thing. Autobiography and self-disclosure had no place in the philosophy seminar room.
I’ve since thawed. I’m now leaning far more towards disclosure than when I started teaching. I long held neutral impartiality as the gold standard of instruction, whereby challenging – and perhaps controversial – topics were discussed, but the educator held the space for students to explore perspectives, without sharing their own. This, while often the received wisdom, and certainly well-intentioned, is, I now reflect, limited.
For an academic to be teaching on a module, especially if they’ve created it, means they’re very likely to be published in that field of inquiry. Engaged students will find such materials, understand their lecturer’s perspectives, and recognise when they’re playing devil’s advocate in sessions. Furthermore, given that we teach face to face, and not in confession booths, the visibility of us as lecturers often speaks volumes; students will make an array of assumptions. For example, if in a session led by the university’s chaplain, it’s safe for students to assume that they’re a member of the Church of England.
Kelly’s heuristic quartet
There is a case to be argued for “committed impartiality” as per Social Scientist Thomas Kelly’s (1986) heuristic quartet:
- Exclusive neutrality: The educator takes a neutral position and eschews any potentially controversial issues; i.e. appropriate in a school context, but too reductive for HE.
- Exclusive partiality: The educator takes a biased position; i.e. traditionally a big no no. Think here of educators who use their classes to enact their activism.
- Neutral impartiality: The educator is impartial and neutral, encouraging students to explore controversial issues; i.e. the gold standard of HE instruction based on received wisdom.
- Committed impartiality: The educator takes a biased position while also being impartial; i.e. seen with scepticism by those who practise neutral impartiality. This is a potentially slippery slope into exclusive partiality.
While referring principally to the teaching of “controversial” topics in school education, I think the quartet can be helpfully adapted to fit the context of contemporary HE teaching in the social sciences and humanities. Kelly claimed that owing to its contradictory position, “committed impartiality” is the most defensible course of action for educators to engage in teaching controversial issues. This is because it requires the educator to put their cards on the table and encourage debate without claiming an unbiased standpoint.
Wading
When discussing loaded issues such as race, sexuality and religious perspectives, perhaps this is where the received wisdom about steadfastly refusing to disclose shines through and avoids the – especially contemporary – quagmire of a shallow form of identity politics and virtue signalling that can sometimes turn into a form of oppression Olympics? The “disclosure dilemma” is, of course, ultimately a personal, context bound one.
In the context of schools, the issue of disclosure is much more vexed, given that teachers are effectively agents of the state who have a moral duty to avoid prosletysing given the power dynamic of the classroom (I recall the example during COvid-19 of a teacher in Nottinghamshire getting national attention for encouraging students to write letters of frustration to the then PM).
While school curricula are obviously created by groups of individuals with political agendas, in HE we too have areas of expertise, interest, and passion. In an increasingly regulatory framework, the dissemination of our darlings is bound by legislation such as the Equality Act (2010), and The Higher Education Freedom of Speech Act (2023). Furthermore, to adhere to these acts within a localised context, my employer has a university dignity policy, mission statements, and, within my department, enacts the Chatham House Rule. We also provide trigger warnings to create inclusive learning environments.
Tightrope
This discussion has implications for those in the social sciences, especially those who deal, like I do, with explicitly political content (I recognise that the personal is also the political). Of course, navigating the tightrope between committed impartiality and exclusive partiality is tricky. The received wisdom is valuable insofar as it helps the educator to avoid this balancing act. But when the educator has a specialism that speaks to a political issue of the day, it is arguably upon them to do so. For example, in March 2023 I was teaching a session for final year UG students on migration in the context of international education when the Gary Lineker “issue” kicked off. I had a well-informed perspective on that issue, and it linked neatly to the scheduled taught content that day. It’s fair to say that I teetered on that tightrope between committed impartiality and exclusive partiality!
The challenge is not about self-censorship in the service of an apparently noble ideal of neutral impartiality, but enacting personal commitment and setting the groundwork for civic debate. Deciding to disclose may have the intended learning outcome of rapport building, modelling particular behaviours or perspectives, humanising oneself, normalising situations, or problematising a set of affairs; it’s about practising the messy craft of educating, and being open to self-transformation.
Risk aversion
I’m sure others could make equally compelling cases for different positions within, and outside of, Kelly’s heuristic quartet. I think a primary driver behind neutrality is, rather than a noble but impossible quest for untainted discourse, perhaps one of nervousness; nervousness of being seen as doctrinaire or unduly influencing students’ perspectives?
Overall, the disclosing instructor must consider their visibility in terms of gender, age, physical presence, professional titles etc. that starkly reinforce a power imbalance between student and academic, aka judge, jury and executioner in terms of grades and longer-term prospects. Where the stakes are high boldness of speech, disclosing personal leanings in a learning environment are worth the risk.
Just for the sake of challenging assumptions, the University Chaplain at Sussex is a Humanist.