(Anonymous copy for peer-review)

This interview-based study explores how a series of deaths at [Australian university] symbolise the toxic work conditions created by the Neoliberalist turn in tertiary education. In the space of two months, three staff members of the English Literature faculty at [Australian university] died of heart failure. Interviews with ten (n=10) casual staff members show how a precarious and hypercompetitive environment twisted perceptions of these deaths, framing them not as tragedies but instead welcome opportunities for advancement. A case study examining a fourth death not yet reported in the media further showcases how the desperation of academic casual employment has pushed staff to breaking point. The findings here fill a significant gap in knowledge and [Australian university] should carefully consider how it might prevent this article from being published.

Keywords: Neoliberalism, casualisation, university, foxglove, damage limitation

Introduction

There is a wealth of literature exploring how Neoliberalism has warped the Australian university system, turning it from a bastion of knowledge serving the public good to just another private enterprise focused on the bottom line (Gill and Donaghue 2016; Murphy et al. 2022). A key component of the new “McUniversity” is a heavily casualised workforce valued only for its cheap and easily dismissable labour (Ryan et al. 2013).

Presently, casual academics outnumber their full-time and part-time counterparts in the Australian tertiary sector (Department of Education 2022), a trend set to continue as vacated full-time positions are routinely filled with multiple casuals (Rothengatter & Hill 2013).

While those in management positions espouse the joys of flexible employment, academic research into the work conditions of casuals in universities paints a far bleaker picture. Studies have found that casuals frequently work unpaid hours, are denied access to basic facilities such as office space, have no sick leave or holiday benefits, are vulnerable to bullying from management or senior staff, and can be fired without appeal. This casual workforce has been variously described as “the bottom rung” (Ryan et al. 2013), “interchangeable and replaceable” (Murphy et al. 2022), “the fast food workers of the academic world” (Hoff 2014) and “expendable flotsam on turbulent institutional waters” (Rothengatter & Hill 2013).

Desperation among this cohort is growing, particularly as the majority have been in insecure employment for at least three years or more (Rothengatter & Hill 2013). Recent media stories about homeless casual lecturers unable to afford rent in often-expensive university towns and cities, forcing them to live in tents (Fazackerley 2021) or cars are now frequent enough to have lost their initial shock value (Gee 2017). Indeed, [Author] has recently discovered a similar situation: a long-term casual staff member sleeping in a small cave behind [Australian university], hidden from the view of passing students by a thick overgrowth of grevilleas and foxglove.

With such “precariousness … now one of the defining experiences of academic life” (Gill and Donaghue 2016), universities have become cutthroat environments in which individuals must compete in a “Darwinian game whereby only the ‘best and fittest’ survive” (Murphy et al. 2022). This “cruel system of competiton among colleagues and friends breaks all collegiality and solidarity” (Ivancheva 2015), reducing universities — once a symbol of enlightenment — to “a Big Brother environment … where morale is very low and the culture is adversarial, competitive and unsupportive” (Deacon 2018).

 While the rapidly expanding cohort of casuals fight for the meagre opportunities on offer, those in continuing positions are themselves subjected to intense auditing metrics “designed to measure their productivity, success, and ‘excellence’” (Loveday 2018). The pressure to perform ensures constant anxiety is a feature not a bug, with Leo McCann et al. (2020) comparing this “targets and terror” approach to that of a “Stalinist operational model”. The end result is a workplace in which the “pervasive stress of managing expectation in an often hypercompetitive culture” has tragically led to drastic impacts on staff wellbeing, including suicides and heart attacks (Deacon 2018; Parr 2014; Lashuel 2020).

These long-bubbling concerns about university staff wellbeing came to a head during recent events at [Australian University]. In the space of a single semester, three full-time staff from the English Literature faculty were found dead on campus. Each was declared dead of heart failure, an outcome quickly attributed by colleagues to the pressurised environment within which they worked. After the first death, [Author] — the faculty’s newest casual staff member — was shocked by the palpable excitement the incident generated among those hoping for continuing positions. To capture and analyse these reactions further, they decided to produce an interview-based study on the topic. While obtaining data, they have since uncovered shocking new details about these deaths, as well as an unreported fourth death.

While numerous interview-based studies with casual academics have been conducted before (Brown et al. 2010; Ryan et al. 2013), the level of savagery and desperation uncovered here fills a gap in research, and would be significantly damaging to [Australian university] were it ever to be published.

Methodology

A series of one-on-one semi-structured interviews were conducted with casual staff from the English Literature department of [Australian University]. Prior to the first death, the department consisted of three full-time staff and up to fifteen casual staff each semester. In total, ten participants agreed to be interviewed (response rate 66%), although this dataset has sadly now been reduced by one.

Anonymous interviews were recorded, transcribed and thematically analysed. As per the ethics agreement — which all interviewees quickly signed without reading — no changes to the transcripts were allowed and participants were not able to withdraw their transcripts from the dataset. This study was approved by the university research ethics committee, although subsequent events mean this approval is likely now voided.

Findings

“It’s shocking how unshocking this is”

Victim One

In late 2023, Victim One (V1) was found dead at his desk. This discovery was made after his wife called campus security to inform them VI had not come home overnight. The cause of death was ruled as heart failure. While tragic, this was not entirely unsurprising given V1’s age and poor health. V1 had been a professor for nearly fifty years, and, as Participant 3 (P3) noted, “probably drank around fifty litres of Glendale a week”. Many participants described V1 as belonging to another era, with his “thick tweed jacket” (P5), “funky pipe smell (P1)” and “poorly hidden flask” (P2). V1’s approach to being a professor was described as out of touch with the modern, Neoliberalist turn in university education. A number of interviewees said that management had been threatening V1 with forced retirement for years, as his declining research output and belligerent response to escalating administrative expectations had put him at odds with the university’s new approach: “The endless metrics, the constant performance review … I think it all became too much for his heart. Honestly it’s shocking how unshocking this is” (P6).

Despite V1’s quirks, some participants remembered him as an insightful mentor whose “eyes lit up” (P9) when discussing literature. Indeed, one participant (P10) had tears in their eyes upon recalling sitting in V1’s book-packed office as a PhD student, talking at length about their dissertation on Agatha Christie[1]. The cover of anonymity provided by this project, however, meant participants were also willing to admit how excited they were by V1’s death, as they believed the removal of a high-level professor would result in trickle-down opportunities:

“A freaking miracle, if you ask me. It’s like the seas have parted”

(P6)

“So huge! That dinosaur ate up half the department budget”

(P3)

“I hear there’s a chance for two new openings at least. I suppose [Partipant 10] will get one, but the other is up for grabs”

(P5)

That the death of such a long-standing and well-respected member of the faculty would be celebrated in this manner illustrates how toxic the environment has become at [Australian university].

“Jesus Christ, this job”

Victim Two

The mood shifted the week following V1’s death, when the university announced that no full-time positions would be created and that casuals would instead be used to fill the substantial gaps left by V1. Participants were left despondent by the news, claiming they felt stuck “down the mineshafts of hell” (P9). One participant (P2) wondered — presciently, as it turned out — “who do we have to kill to get hired around here?”

The increased workload also fell onto remaining full-time staff, something that was posited as leading to the death of Victim Two (V2). An associate professor, V2 was younger and much fitter than V1, and the spectacle of him jogging up the university’s hilly campus with his waterbottle was a familar sight to staff and students. Despite this apparent good health, V2 was also found dead of heart failure in his office. Participants pointed to his ferocious workrate as a likely factor:

“Dude would drop a sixteen hour day on Christmas like it was nothing.”

(P3)

“I heard it was common for him to sleep in there. Jesus Christ, this job.

(P7)

Some participants described V2 as a high-achiever adept at “playing the game” (P8), with a series of successful grant applications and dozens of publications per year. However, others referred to V2 as a “grifter” (P2) whose success was built on the exploitation of casuals: “Look, [P10] basically wrote his last few articles and that dick didn’t even put them on as a co-author” (P3).

This bad reputation, and the sense that a new position must surely now be forthcoming, resulted in what can only be described as a jubilant atmosphere among casuals:

“We’re doing body shots! Come with us, [Author], we’re doing body shots!”

(P4)

“Here’s to heart attacks at thirty-five!” [Cheering]

(P6)

“Turn that recorder off and let me pour this on you, girl. What’s your obsession with this project anyways?’

(P8)[2]

“Gold medal in ice-skating”

Victim Three

This outpouring of joy was short-lived. Management quickly announced that, once again, they would not be seeking to fill the vacant position. Instead, the remaining casuals were asked to consider working “additional unremitted hours in order to help the student cohort keep on track during this difficult time” [Email to staff, May 13 2024]. Staff responses to this request were unsurprisingly bitter: “I’m honestly jealous of [V1] and [V2] at this point … At least they have sick leave.”

However, the situation changed once again when, a few days later, the faculty’s final full-time academic was found dead in her office. That the cause of death was once again ruled a heart failure surprised many interviewees. Victim Three [V3], a Senior Lecturer, was known for her calm nature and “soothing Enya vibes” (P1). She could often be spotted meditating on the campus lawns and was an outspoken advocate for work/life balance and the importance of staff health and wellbeing. That such a person could be claimed by the pressures of academia did not bode well for others.

Interviewees spoke of V3 as a compassionate colleague — “a breath of fresh air in a fart storm” (P7) — who routinely took time out of her day to meet with casual tutors for a chat and a herbal tea in her office. Indeed, on the morning of her death, [Author] witnessed V3 ushering a clearly distressed [Participant 10] in for a consult. As a comparably loved staff member, the mood following V3’s death was more sombre. Yet there was still open and explicit discussion among casuals about how this latest tragedy would force the university’s hand:

“This is going to be like that time Australia got gold in ice-skating … someone’s straight up defaulting into a job”

(P6)

“Unless they got some Frankenstein shit we don’t know of, they’re going to have to hire someone now”

(P9)

The following week, management did indeed finally announce that they would be interviewing for a single, entry-level position, calling for all interested casuals to submit CVs. At first, excitement among staff was high — “the first time I have ever orgasmed to an email” (P8) — but this was soon tempered by a growing consensus that [Participant 10], by far the longest serving casual staff member, would likely get the role: “[Participant 10] has been here since outdoor toilets … I guess it’s only fair” (P1). It was a shock, therefore, when management announced, upon the completion of interviews, that [Participant 2] — an impressive but much newer casual staff member — had instead been given the position.

“A test of how far I was willing to go”

Victim Four

After the announcement, rumours began circulating that [Participant 10]’s poor hygiene — “she smells like wet wombat ass, frankly” (P8) — and increasingly erratic behaviour had led the panel to seek “someone fresher and less psychically scarred by all this shit” (P6). Determined to get [Participant 10]’s perspective on events, [Author] attempted to interview them numerous times but was repeatedly turned down. [Author] therefore turned to observational research (see Ciesielska et al. 2018), watching [Participant 10] at a distance and taking notes on their behaviour.           This method led to a number of important research findings:

🗹 Even when monitored from a considerable distance, [Participant 10] did indeed give off a musty aroma

🗹 [Participant 10] handled a load of around 300 students, which necessitated them working seven days a week from sunrise to well past midnight

🗹 [Participant 10] lived in a small cave behind [Australian university], hidden from the view of passing students by a thick overgrowth of grevilleas and foxglove

This final finding occurred after [Author] decided to follow [Participant 10] off-campus after an evening tutorial. Instead of heading to the carparks or bus terminals, however, [Participant 10] instead trekked into a sloping forest on the west side of [Australian university], walking several minutes downhill before stooping through a small hole beneath a shelf of limestone. A few minutes later, [Author] received — along with the entire casual staff cohort — an email from [Participant 10] inviting them to an event celebrating “[Participant 2]’s FANTASTIC news” [Event invite sent to author]. This event was to take place in the staff lunchroom later that same afternoon. Guests were asked to BYO snacks while [Participant 10] would “bring homemade tea for everyone J” [Event invite sent to author]. At this point, [Author] developed a hypothesis about [Participant 10] that concerned them enough to change their methodology to the more proactive participant observation method (Ciesielska et al. 2018) and to enter the cave site.

Once inside, [Author] noted that the cave space was damp, roughly the size of a ute tray and lit only by a single battery-powered lamp. Other items observed included a tattered sleeping bed, a pile of clothes, a dog-eared copy of Agatha Christie’s Appointment with Death (1938) and a rock pestle filled with the stems, seeds and distinctively bright, violet petals of the foxglove flower[3]. [Participant 10] had their back to the entrance, and [Author] was thus able to momentarily observe them pouring and stirring sugar into a large tea urn. Eager to use the participant observation methodology to “discover through immersion … the hows and whys of human behavior in a particular context” (Jorgensen 1989), [Author] asked [Participant 10] what exactly they thought they were doing.

The interviewee did not appear pleased with this line of questioning. This was demonstrated non-verbally by [Participant 10] lunging and grabbing [Author] by the throat. Thankfully, [Participant 10]’s exhausted and emaciated state meant there was only negligible risk to the research team. While pinned against the back wall of the cave, [Participant 10] finally relented to requests for an interview on the stipulation that they be allowed to pour and drink tea as they talked.

Once this requested was granted, [Participant 10] spoke freely, with the interview going well past the allotted 15 minutes. They began by describing their early hopes for an academic life “full of books and thinking and camaraderie” (P10), and how they held out for this dream — “like Gatsby and his green light” (P10) — even as the hours got longer, the student loads grew larger, and the money became increasingly insufficient. In a story remarkably similar to that of Aimée Lê, the casual teacher who lived in a tent outside her London university (Fazackerley 2021), [Participant 10] suddenly found themselves homeless when they could not afford a significant rent increase at their sharehouse[4]. On the verge of giving up, [Participant 10] went for a walk in the forest to clear their head, whereby they discovered the small cave. They recall how they immediately perceived this discovery as a symbol or “challenge … a test of how far I was willing to go” (P10).

[Participant 10] would ultimately live in the cave for over a year. They describe a period of significant hardship, sleeping on “stone so hard my back grew calluses” and waking to cold winter mornings with their “hair stiff with frost”. Alongside this physical discomfort was the constant fear of being discovered. [Participant 10] would shower in the gym and wash their clothes at night in [Australian university]’s memorial fountain named after a former Vice-Chancellor. They recounted numerous close calls during this time: “a student saw me once coming out the entrance … I lied and told them I was doing research for a paper on Christie’s [largely cavern-set] The Man in the Brown Suit” (P10).

Despite the complexity of their living situation, [Participant 10] produced at a remarkably high level: “I must have marked a thousand essays in here, won a casual teaching award … [I] published a half dozen articles”[5]. But it was never enough. Opportunities for advancement simply did not exist in the casualised, Neoliberalist work environment of [Australian university], and on the first anniversary of their new life in the cave, [Participant 10] awoke with the realisation that “playing nice was getting me nowhere” (P10). When asked to explain exactly what they meant by this, [Participant 10] ended the interview by falling unconscious — likely as a result of having drunk the entire urn of tea.

Discussion

The data here clearly implicate [Australian university] in the creation of a toxic work environment, one which led to the death of four employees. Indeed, without the intervention of [Author], the extent of this tragedy could have been much greater. While conditions have been deteriorating in many universities in the Neoliberal era, the extreme circumstances documented in this article (and attached appendices) undoubtably fill a knowledge gap. The value of these research findings inspired [Author] to prepare this article for anonymous peer-review submission to a number of Q1 journals, as well as public scholarship outlets such as The Conversation and the state police.

A major limitation of this study is how damaging it will be to the reputation of [Australian university]. However, this is not currently a concern for [Author], as they are only a casual employee, and thus not directly affected by potential consequences (eg a fall in student numbers or extensive leadership dismissals). Were that to change — were, for example, [Author] to be given a permanent contract at a high base-salary — this limitation might well prevent them from seeking publication. For this reason, the article has been attached alongside the author’s CV in an email to management. Perhaps out of these tragic circumstances, a positive and non-poisonous workplace environment can still be achieved.

[1] After the interview, P10 requested that the data from their interview be removed from the study. The request was denied, as per ethics agreement (see Methodology). P10 vowed not to contribute to the project any further but would ultimately engage in one final interview.

[2] Photos of the celebration party held at P3’s flat on the night of V2’s death have been attached as an appendix.

[3] Including “Cavernous Desires: A Study of Caves and Female Agency in the Work of Agatha Christie”.

[4] Although it is a worthy area of study, the housing crisis in [Australian city] is beyond the scope of this current article.

[5] Including “Cavernous Desires: A Study of Caves and Female Agency in the Work of Agatha Christie”.