Ten staff members about diversity and inclusivity at UM: “We don’t all have to be best friends, but we do have to be prepared to listen to each other”

Do you feel like you can say what you want at UM?

Yes, reply most of our interviewees. They do feel free to say whatever they want, especially within their own group. But they are also quick to add nuance to this first, instinctive answer. “However, I don’t think you should just say whatever you want”, clarifies Erik Driessen, professor of Medical Education, who grew up in the Netherlands. To him, respect for others is paramount. “It’s a good thing that we no longer use the n-word, that the Dutch Black Pete tradition has been challenged, that we’re becoming aware of things that are needlessly hurtful to others. In that respect, I think the woke movement is a good movement. But I dislike the moral totalitarianism – “my opinion is the only true opinion” – that sometimes accompanies it.”

And you don’t always have to say whatever you think, adds Angelique de Rijk, professor of Work and Health. “We Dutch people are known for being straightforward, but that can be very counterproductive. I’m culturally sensitive; I try to adapt. That’s important to me as a global citizen.”

At the same time, De Rijk has come up against certain obstacles. “I live with a woman. We have a child together. I’m only open about this in situations where I feel there is room to have a conversation and get to know each other better. I’m not open about it when I suspect there may be unfamiliarity, prejudice, and little or no room for dialogue, which was more often the case with students from the Middle East I supervised.” But that dialogue, as well as “seeking contact with people and telling them about the different ways we live in the Netherlands, is essential. Not to change people’s minds, but to promote tolerance. After all, not everyone who works and studies here was brought up and educated in an open, democratic society.”

Naive

Can you say whatever you want? That’s a pointless question, says Sally Wyatt, professor of Digital Cultures and a board member of the Faculty of Arts & Social Sciences. She was born and raised in Canada, but has been living in the Netherlands for twenty years. The interview was conducted in Dutch. “You can never just voice every thought that pops into your head.” She chuckles. “If I did, I would’ve been fired a long time ago. The question presupposes a very naive conception of freedom of expression. People never say everything they think – sometimes out of politeness, or because it wouldn’t be productive, or because they don’t want to make it personal, or for strategic reasons. And apart from that, we have social norms, rules and laws. You aren’t allowed to incite violence or engage in hate speech, and – this is particularly important in an academic setting – you must provide evidence, present facts and arguments.”

Walking on eggshells

Alexander Carlo, a PhD student in the School of Business and Economics (SBE) who grew up in Curaçao, praises the open and pleasant atmosphere in his department, Finance. He doesn’t feel like he has to mince his words there. In his tutorial groups, however, things have been changing. “I increasingly have to walk on eggshells when interacting with students. Mistakes are easily made, for example when I accidentally misgender a non-binary person. I feel like people have become quicker to anger and react very strongly. It’s important to be considerate of each other, but these strong negative reactions when something goes wrong… I don’t think that’s a positive development.”

Hanneke Ramakers from the Netherlands also feels like the world around her is changing. A controller and project manager in the central Finance department, she believes that freedom of expression is eroding. “Ever since the incident between the student group Feminists of Maastricht and Observant a year ago [when Observant refused to change the word “women” in an article on menstruation products to “people who menstruate”, and the consequences thereof], I feel like it has become impossible to have a normal conversation about these kinds of things. Staff members prefer to keep silent and not speak out for fear of the consequences. This development is occurring throughout society. People no longer listen to each other or respect each other’s opinions. Things are seen as either absolutely right or absolutely wrong.”

Cancel culture

Nico Rasters from the Netherlands, who works in IT at the School of Business and Economics, agrees with her. “When it comes to my work, I have no problem expressing my opinion, even if I’m critical, but diversity is an uncomfortable topic. There are plenty of examples of cancel culture in other countries. It’s the weapon of the woke movement – shutting someone down by causing them to lose their job, for example, or subjecting them to online abuse. I’m not out to offend anyone, but I have no control over people misinterpreting my words. And what if that led to students complaining about me? What would UM do then?”

Albertine Zanting, senior policy advisor on internationalisation and researcher of cultural diversity, understands her colleagues’ trepidation, but doesn’t consider it a reason not to talk about diversity and inclusion. “Let those feelings of sensitivity and resistance be there. We are all different, and we need all those different perspectives to do better when it comes to diversity. That may involve stepping on people’s toes, if you want to change something that is very important to someone else. We must acknowledge that.”

Do you feel like you can be who you are at UM?

Yes, the interviewees agree. PhD student Carlo does not feel restricted in any way. “For example, the colour of my skin has never been an issue here. I have friends from Curaçao who are darker skinned than me and they are sometimes confronted with racist comments. They don’t work at UM, by the way.”

Thomas Gültzow from Germany, an assistant professor of Social Psychology, describes the organisational culture at both Work and Social Psychology and the department where he previously worked, the FHML Department of Health Promotion, as “very open. I can freely talk about my boyfriend; I’ve never felt like I had to avoid talking about being gay.” He is also open about his sexuality in his tutorial groups. “I think it’s important to show that there are lecturers at UM who are part of the LGBTQI+ community.” The reactions have always been positive.

Easy

Driessen (“white, male, straight, professor… I’m sure that makes it easier for me”) says he feels right at home at UM. “But I don’t really care what people think of me. I’m the kind of person who would wear pyjamas to the bakery, so to speak. But again, what’s important is respect for others. It’s a matter of principle – I do what I want, but I must never let my freedom infringe on someone else’s. We have four children, they make a lot of noise, but I don’t want to make that our neighbours’ problem. Solidarity is an important concept.”

“It’s easier for me to be who I am”, agrees Janneke Frambach, an assistant professor in the Faculty of Health, Medicine and Life Sciences. “I speak all the common languages at UM – Dutch, English, Limburgish – and I’m part of the white majority.” De Rijk, who is also white, points out that she herself does not speak Limburgish, but it has never been an obstacle for her. And the fact that she mentioned her girlfriend in her job interview 23 years ago had no negative impact whatsoever. On the contrary, all her colleagues came to their wedding a few years later.

Sally Wyatt is a bit more critical, although she too feels at home at UM. “I feel valued, and I feel like I can be of value to the university.” She has held positions in academia in Canada, England, and the Netherlands. UM is in her top two favourite workplaces, she laughs. “The University of East London was my childhood sweetheart. UM is my more mature relationship.”

Role

In her experience, however, people tend not to look beyond a person’s role at the university. “Students see me as their lecturer and that’s it. In their eyes, I have no other responsibilities and no other life. Something similar happens in my role as a board member – people contact me because they want something. It makes sense, but my point is that your role is very important here. It defines you in other people’s eyes, even though you are so much more than that. For the first forty years of my life, I didn’t work in the Netherlands, but in Canada and England. But people don’t seem interested in that part of my life. They don’t ask about it, even though those first forty years helped shape me as a person. Do they ignore it out of a lack of interest, a lack of curiosity, out of courtesy? I don’t know.”

Zanting knows what she means. “The academic world is hierarchical. I was already a senior policy officer when I became part of the academic staff a few years ago. As a PhD student, I found myself right back at the bottom of the hierarchy. My prior experience no longer mattered. When I go into a meeting, I ask myself: am I here as an academic staff member or as an administrative and support staff member? I suspect that my role influences how other people see me. They are two different worlds that operate in different ways.”

What do the terms diversity and inclusion mean to you?

“In my teaching, I try to create a learning environment where everyone feels included, where there is no such thing as a silly or stupid question, and where students from both minority and majority groups can speak freely”, says Hugo Schyns, a PhD student in SBE. He chuckles. He says he automatically does this, but now that he thinks about it, it is related to his definitions of diversity and inclusion. “Create space for everyone, no matter their religion, sex, gender, socioeconomic status, political affiliation, cultural background, and so on. And create space for minorities to integrate into the group.” The latter, adds Driessen, sometimes means that “the dominant group has to take a step back and give something up”.

Gültzow agrees with Schyns’s definition. “An organisation should be a reflection of the world around it.” Inclusion goes one step further, he says; it involves “actively making sure that everyone feels seen”. He does this by stating his personal pronouns on the first slide of his presentation, for example. He brings up diversity in his teaching as well. “I teach a lot about behavioural models, which have tended to neglect diversity. I tell my students that research takes time, and so it’s up to us to approach these models through the lens of diversity.” Most students appreciate his approach, but he has also received criticism. “One student asked, ‘Why do we always have to talk about this?’ I’m fine with that, as long as it’s said in a respectful manner. It’s actually good to discuss it.”

The unconscious norm

Zanting conducts research on diversity in medical education. “Rather than using a specific definition of diversity to guide my research, I examine how differences between people are defined and the impact of this.” She has already discovered an unconscious norm in the three medical curricula she has studied so far, including the UM curriculum. “The patient is middle-aged, white, and male. Intercultural skills are taught, but they’re taught in a separate course, like it’s something different. We are making efforts to integrate it into the entire curriculum.”

Counterproductive

Rasters is clear in his description: “For me, diversity certainly isn’t the woke ideology. They are fighting for rights I believe they already have here in the Netherlands. I tend to be of the opinion that diversity measures are counterproductive. If I was a woman in senior management, I wouldn’t like having to wonder whether I got that position because I’m good or to fill a quota. Or it’s meaningless, like UM putting out a statement that they are against rape. Well, the whole world is against rape, you shouldn’t have to explain that anymore.”

To him, what matters is a person’s qualities and character. De Rijk says the same thing. “It shouldn’t matter what your religion, sex, gender, race, sexual orientation or socioeconomic status is”, she says. For Rasters, inclusion is primarily about accessibility for people with mental or physical disabilities. Ramakers and De Rijk also stress that we must not overlook this group of people. “At UM, we mainly focus on gender, LGBTQI+, cultural and socioeconomic differences, but that’s much too limited”, says De Rijk. “Take the university buildings; they’re not very wheelchair accessible. And mandatory attendance is impossible for students who require regular admission into hospital.”

Research

Wyatt points out another aspect of diversity at academic institutions. “Researchers should be able to study all kinds of subjects, using various methods. And they shouldn’t all have to be published in highly prestigious journals, let alone all in one language – English. This is particularly relevant for many arts and social sciences. Why would you publish research on the Dutch primary education system or the Dutch legal system in English?”

Is the university doing enough? What is going well? How can UM do better?

There’s the Diversity & Inclusivity Office, the Centre for Gender and Diversity, and a lot of relevant projects. UM is paying attention to diversity and inclusion, and the number of women in senior management is increasing. The foundation is there, say the majority of our interviewees.

But, says Gültzow, more recognition could be given to the people doing the work. “I was on the board of UM Pride, which was mostly unpaid work done in the evenings and on weekends. It’s not very well compensated. It boosts your CV, but that’s about it. It doesn’t factor into career decisions. It would be great if the Recognition & Rewards programme took this kind of work into account.”

Conversations

In addition, Gültzow says, conversations on this topic should take place behind closed doors less often. “I was shocked when Observant refused to change the phrase ‘women who menstruate’ to ‘people who menstruate’ last year. It’s a minor change, in my opinion, whereas it must have been so discouraging for young trans people to see the way the university newspaper communicated about the situation. I’m sure it was discussed in detail afterwards, also at the management level, but we didn’t get to see any of that. The university also tends to take a long time to communicate new policy. But by letting people know that the process has been set in motion, you show them that you care about the topic and you’re working on it.”

Zanting would also like to know more about the practical side of things. “How do people talk about diversity in Problem-Based Learning, in assessment, in HR, in meetings? What implicit biases exist? You can’t avoid bias, but you can be aware of it. Let’s define what relevant diversity is throughout university policy, from curriculum to research. For example, we must also reflect on questions like what makes a ‘good’ student. Some tutorials include a participation grade. But who gets high marks – the student who often speaks up in class, the student who writes great summaries, or the student who asked an excellent question once? This isn’t part of the basic teaching qualification (BKO), but it should be.”

Good intentions

PhD student Carlo never really gave it much thought until this interview, he admits with a smile. That’s why he finds it difficult to provide a well-founded answer to the question. “I’ve been seeing these ‘Are you okay?’ stickers on doors, with a QR code that will refer you to people who can help you if something bad has happened to you. And last year we got gender-neutral toilets with free tampons and pads. We are also increasingly reminded that we can turn to the confidential advisor or ombudsman with problems. I think that’s good.”

His fellow PhD student Schyns acknowledges these initiatives and the “good intentions” behind them. “But I can’t tell if they actually have a positive impact. Either way, it’s a slow process. This kind of change doesn’t happen overnight.” And it’s an ongoing process, stresses Frambach; it’s never completed. “It’s important that senior management pays constant attention to diversity and inclusion, but us staff members are the ones who have to make the change happen. Some are actively working on it, but others aren’t.”

She is happy with the “family-friendly university” certificate UM was awarded a few years ago. “I’m a mother of two young children, with a husband who lives abroad. I’m raising the children alone. I really appreciate the way the university acknowledges motherhood. It has made it easier for me to be myself. To tell my colleagues, who are very warm and friendly, ‘I can’t make it to that evening meeting, I don’t have a babysitter’, or ‘I have to go pick up my kids now’. UM has made room for motherhood. When she took her position as president of UM, Rianne Letschert said that she wanted to be a ‘president of diversity’. She kick-started a movement I had not previously seen at UM to this extent. We’ve also had rainbow flags up since she became president. That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

Ramakers agrees that a lot of things are going well, although she feels like UM’s good intentions sometimes go wrong. Sometimes the university focuses on the group with the loudest voice, causing another, quieter part of the community to feel left out. “It’s difficult to find the right balance. And it’s OK to say no sometimes.”

In general, what are the main barriers to a diverse and inclusive university?

“People are no longer willing to listen to each other”, state several interviewees, including Wyatt. “We are a university. Our core business – that’s what we teach our students – is asking questions, listening, and not jumping to conclusions. Sometimes people seem to have no respect for others. People increasingly focus on our differences rather than what unites us. We are all different, but we also have a lot in common.”

De Rijk points out the profound impact of individualism on society in this context. “Today, people are divided into separate boxes they must then fight tooth and nail to defend. But each of us is so much more than that. We are all a bit of everything.”

Listen to each other

One of the reasons why people in academia have less time for each other, suspects Frambach, is the high work pressure and the pressure to perform on both students and staff. But it is so important to talk to each other – in the corridors, at the coffee machine, during a break – in order to better understand each other. “We don’t all have to be best friends, but we do have to try to listen to each other.”

It would be a good start if the student body began to form a real international community. In Schyns’s faculty, SBE, there is still a lot of progress to be made when it comes to integration between students, he says. “Students tend to socialise mostly with people from their own countries. We must encourage them to mix.” This has been a topic of discussion at the university for decades. Schyns doesn’t have the solution to the problem, either.

Extremism

Another barrier mentioned by several interviewees is extremism. “It stands in the way of mutual understanding”, says De Rijk. And it makes people hesitant to speak out, says Ramakers. “They’re afraid of being threatened or labelled as racist. As a result, they keep silent and no longer express their opinions. Is that really what we want to achieve?”

Rasters criticises “militant activism. It’s good that generally accepted ideas are challenged, otherwise we wouldn’t make any progress. But getting your way through coercion and intimidation, imposing your worldview on others… I have a real problem with that. There is no dialogue, certain words and definitions may no longer be used – it’s a dangerous development, if you ask me.”

History

What could help, says Wyatt, is a little more knowledge and understanding of history – of all that has already been achieved when it comes to emancipation, diversity and inclusion. “In the 1970s, I was one of three women out of one hundred economics students in Canada. Now, over 50 per cent of students here at UM are women. Back then, we fought for a better and more equal society. The woke movement is doing the same thing today. There is obviously still a lot of work to be done and improvement to be made. And we must remain vigilant. My generation thought that abortion would no longer be an issue. We now know that it’s a major topic of discussion again. We’re all in this together.”

Riki Janssen and Cleo Freriks