Tag: theory

  • Thinking with affect theory in higher education: what can it help us to do?

    Thinking with affect theory in higher education: what can it help us to do?

    by Karen Gravett

    How does higher education feel, to work or to study in? How do affects circulate through the places, spaces, bodies and the structures and pedagogies of institutions? And why might thinking about feelings and affect be useful for educators? This blog draws on recent research that seeks to explore how affect theory can be helpful to understand and enhance our work in higher education. Attuning to affect, I suggest, has implications for both how we understand power relations in education, as well as for finding ways to foster more creative and meaningful pedagogies. 

    What is affect theory?

    Interest in affect, and ideas from affect theory/studies, are gaining momentum across the evolving field of higher education studies. Within the social sciences, the ‘affective turn’ has been influenced by work from Clough (2007), Massumi (2015), Seigworth and Pedwell (2023), Ahmed (2010), and many others. No longer confined to binary ideas of emotion/reason, body/mind, scholars have begun to think about emotion and affect as interwoven with education in complex ways. What we mean by emotions and affect can be understood differently, but for many scholars, affect specifically refers to sensory experiences (Zembylas, 2021), forces that are felt bodily. Affects circulate and evolve within and in between ordinary encounters, and in mobile ways.

    Affect in the classroom

    Thinking with affect can help us understand the classroom as a space in which learning is not divorced from the body but viscerally experienced and felt. This helps us to see learning and teaching as always situated and informed by the moment in which it occurs and as we experience it. Feelings do not simply happen within individuals and then move outward (Ahmed, 2010). This shift in thought enables us to consider ourselves in relation to others (both human and non-human), to consider how learning and teaching feels, as well as the ‘structures of feeling’ (Williams, 1961) that circulate within institutions. Thinking with affect helps us to think about the micro-incidents of co-presence, its frictions, and the ‘inconvenient’ (Berlant, 2022) work being present requires of us to engage with others. Education requires affective work of us; it requires us to change, evolve, and adapt constantly to others. This work is exposing; discomforting. In engaging with one another, and being affected and receptive to one another, we are made aware of our own interdependence.

    Affective institutions

    Thinking about affect, then, enables us to understand how institutions are permeated by, and also create, ‘affective atmospheres’ (Anderson, 2009), or ‘structures of feeling’ (Williams, 1961). In his work, Williams uses the idea of ‘structures of feeling’ to study the affective quality of life, in order that we might understand ‘the most delicate and least tangible parts of our activity’ (Williams, 1961, 48). Affective atmospheres, including competition, collegiality, anxiety, inclusion and exclusion are created through pedagogies, policies and practices. For example, the affective atmospheres of self-improvement and self-promotion may permeate neoliberal higher education institutions. Cultures of neoliberalism and precarity require academics to adopt certain affective and embodied practices, such as being competitive, self-motivated or resilient. And yet, affect may be able to disrupt these conditions: affective experiences such as humility, collegiality and joy offer opportunities for resistance and can also be found flourishing within institutional cultures and practices.

    Affective craft

    In the classroom, there may also be ways in which teachers are able to reshape affective relations. This might mean that certain relations could be given space to flourish, and other hierarchies of difference might be, at least momentarily, constrained.Different pedagogical approaches contribute to different feelings in classroom spaces and to different connections. For example, Stewart describes the changing affective atmosphere of the classroom when she employs storytelling and uses questioning approaches to enable dialogue: ‘something subtle but powerful had shifted…The room had become a scene we were in together as bodies and actors’ (Stewart, 2020: 31). For Airton, these kind of affirmative pedagogic approaches work as ‘affective craft’ and might include providing open spaces for students to lead and shape the learning encounter. In my research with Simon Lygo-Baker, we examine different ways in which teachers can experiment with affective craft. These include through teaching in spaces beyond the classroom, using art and objects for generating discussion, engaging storying and the sharing of vulnerabilities, as well as through using Play-Doh modelling to disrupt hierarchies and foster collaboration. These are just some ordinary, everyday ideas, and are ideas we also explore further in our new book: Reconceptualising Teaching in Higher Education:  Connected Practice for Changing Times, to be published in 2026 by Routledge.

    We believe that teaching is about presence, connection, an ‘encounter’, and that affect theory can be a helpful way to understand and enhance the connections we make, as well as the institutions in which we work and learn. As Dernikos and colleagues explain: ‘scholars are now theorizing what these affective swells can do. And what is surprising is that this does not call for grand movements, nor for great reforms, but depends on the subversive power of the very small’ (Dernikos et al, 2020: 16).

    Dr Karen Gravett is Associate Professor of Higher Education, and Associate Head (Research) at the University of Surrey, UK, where her research focuses on the theory-practice of higher education. She is a member of the Society for Research in Higher Education Governing Council, a member of the editorial boards for Teaching in Higher Education and Learning, Media and Technology, and Associate Editor for Sociology. She is a Principal Fellow of the Higher Education Academy. She is also an Honorary Associate Professor for the Centre for Assessment and Digital Learning at Deakin University. Karen’s latest books are: Gravett, K (2025) Critical Practice in Higher Education, and Gravett, K (2023) Relational Pedagogies: Connections and Mattering in Higher Education.

    Author: SRHE News Blog

    An international learned society, concerned with supporting research and researchers into Higher Education

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  • Progressive in Theory. Right Wing in Practice.

    Progressive in Theory. Right Wing in Practice.

    The ongoing faculty strike at Wellesley College reveals, in stark terms, the reality of the two-tier faculty system that has come to define much of American higher education. Despite its reputation as a progressive liberal arts institution, Wellesley—like many of its peers—relies heavily on contingent faculty to carry out the core educational mission, while systematically denying them the security and respect afforded to their tenured counterparts.

    At Wellesley, non-tenure-track (NTT) faculty make up about 30 percent of the teaching staff but are responsible for teaching 40 percent of the college’s classes. These educators are essential to the functioning of the institution, yet they are paid less, enjoy fewer benefits, and live with little to no job security. Only in January 2024 did they formally unionize, and since May, they have been negotiating what would be their first collective bargaining agreement. The protracted nature of these negotiations—and the college administration’s sluggish response—led to the strike, now stretching into its fourth week.

    The strike has exposed the deep fissures between NTT and tenure-track faculty. In response to the disruption, the administration asked tenured professors to take on additional students, offer independent studies, or otherwise fill in for their striking colleagues. No additional compensation was offered. Faculty were given less than 48 hours to decide whether to participate. The move created a moral and professional dilemma: Should tenured faculty support their striking colleagues by refusing to cross the picket line, or should they prioritize the needs of students—particularly those whose immigration status or financial aid depended on maintaining full-time academic standing?

    In many ways, this is the real function of the two-tier system. It doesn’t just allow institutions to save money by underpaying a significant portion of their teaching workforce. It also creates structural divisions that can be exploited in times of labor unrest. The privileged position of tenured faculty makes them natural pressure points for the administration, able to be guilted or coerced into mitigating the effects of a strike without fundamentally changing the system that caused it.

    Driving this system are university presidents and senior administrators who increasingly adopt corporate, anti-labor management styles. These leaders often frame themselves as neutral actors mediating between stakeholders, but their actions tell a different story. In their refusal to negotiate in good faith, their last-minute crisis planning, and their strategic deployment of fear—around students’ financial aid, immigration status, and graduation timelines—they reveal a deep alignment with union-busting tactics more often seen in the private sector. These administrative strategies not only weaken labor solidarity, but also erode the educational environment they claim to protect.

    What’s happening at Wellesley is not unique. It mirrors a broader pattern across higher education, where elite institutions rely on the labor of contingent faculty while denying them the protections and prestige of tenure. This isn’t a bug in the system—it is the system. The two-tier model is not about flexibility or innovation, as administrators often claim. It’s about control and cost containment, and when challenged, colleges will invoke crisis—whether financial, academic, or humanitarian—to maintain that control.

    In this moment, Wellesley’s administration has positioned tenured faculty as potential strikebreakers, students as bargaining chips, and contingent faculty as expendable. The strike, and the response to it, underscores the urgent need to dismantle the exploitative structures that underpin so many American colleges. Until that happens—and until college presidents are held accountable for anti-labor tactics—students and faculty alike will continue to suffer, not only from instability, but from the erosion of trust and shared purpose in the academic community.

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  • The Theory of Stupidity: Dietrich Bonhoeffer (Mirror of Being)

    The Theory of Stupidity: Dietrich Bonhoeffer (Mirror of Being)

     

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  • Nils Gilman on Trump’s coming assault on universities (Matthew Sheffield, Theory of Change)

    Nils Gilman on Trump’s coming assault on universities (Matthew Sheffield, Theory of Change)

    The second term of Donald Trump has officially begun, but despite all the things he’s unveiled in the past several weeks, we don’t know fully what his policies are going to be over the next four years. 

    That is in part because Trump himself is a very erratic figure who says things that are nonsensical, even by his own standards. And also because while there are documents such as Project 2025 which were created by Trump’s ideological allies in the reactionary movement, that document itself is not particularly detailed in a number of ways.

    But one thing we can be sure is going to happen in the second Trump administration is that he will conduct a full-scale assault on America’s colleges and universities. As a candidate, he did promise to create taxes on private university endowments. And he also talked about removing the funding for universities that don’t bow to his various censorship demands.

    Unlike a number of other Trumpian boasts and threats, he is very likely to follow through on these ones because Republicans in a number of states and localities have enacted many of the policies that Trump has talked about doing on the campaign trail.

    Joining me today to talk about all this is Nils Gilman, a friend of the show who is the chief operating officer at the Berggruen Institute, a think tank in Southern California that publishes Noema Magazine. He is also the former associate chancellor at the University of California, Berkeley, where he saw first-hand just what the [00:02:00] Republican vision for education in the United States is. He’s also the co-author of a new book called Children of a Modest Star, which we discuss at the end of the episode.
       

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  • The rubbish bin theory of the student experience

    The rubbish bin theory of the student experience

    Students have two kinds of problems.

    There are the big, systemic, institutional policy failures that make their lives miserable. These might be social ills of discrimination and prejudice rendered into the classroom experience. These might be reasonable adjustment policies that turn out to be entirely unreasonable. Or it might be the pecuniary architecture that collapses the student experience into unending part-time work and just about squeezing study in.

    In general students’ unions and universities are set up to address these kinds of challenges. There are committees, policies, liaison groups, central budgets, and a power and decision making architecture which faces these problems. This doesn’t mean they can always solve these issues, if they ever can be solved, but it does mean they are at least positioned to have a go at doing so.

    Power

    In the realm of the fundamentally bad and wrong a senior executive often can make things better. After all, they set institutional budgets, strategies, policies, contracts, and rules that impact every student. However, there is another kind of problem that impacts students where they just have less proximity to the issue.

    Imagine the student where things are basically ok. Life is tough, as it is for many students, but as far as they can tell they do not believe they are being treated unfairly, they seem to be broadly getting the big things they were promised when they turned up, and all available evidence suggests their lecturers are working within a set of policies that seem to be pretty fair. In other words, things aren’t too bad.

    However, as time goes on things don’t go badly wrong but they do go a little awry. The common room they went to before lectures doesn’t open until 09:30 in the winter. Their feedback has gone from arriving in six weeks to seven which adds a little bit more pressure on their exams. The library is suddenly much busier as the cold nights have set it. The buses are now much less frequent after a timetable change. The kit they need for their programmes is now more booked up as a new term has brought a new set of modules. And onward and onwards on the ever more bits of bad experience ephemera that clog up students’ lives.

    This is the rubbish bin theory of the student experience. Nobody is doing anything terribly wrong, in fact many people will be doing the right thing in some context and doing the best with the time they have, but the little bit of bad experience builds up and up until the whole student experience stinks. Some of these bits of rubbish are bigger than others, some might even amount to breaches of OfS’s ongoing conditions, but nobody is doing anything which is intentionally malicious.

    The rubbish bin theory of the student experience posits that everyone within a students’ ecosystem can make perfectly reasonable decisions within their own domains, turning down the heating to save on budgets, reconfiguring communal meeting space for staff offices, and changing opening hours of the reception desks might make sense in the context of the university more generally and even for some students some of the time. It is that the university is too big, too bureaucratic, and does not always operate on a small enough level to always take the rubbish out.

    The rubbish bin

    The problem with the smelly rubbish bin is that it’s often only noticed when it’s full. For example, the classic students’ union response is to bring together lots of information from course reps, school reps, committees, and other sources, to then feedback for subsequent years about a different bin, different ways to take out the rubbish, new bin liners (you get it I have tortured the metaphor now). The challenge is that even if you really push down the rubbish in one place it will only pop out in another (ok I am really done this time).

    This is because the issues are often too small-scale to warrant institutional intervention, which the union is well set up to advocate for, and often too local, emerging in programmes or departments, to be wholly made visible to the union or to be wholly made to work with university policy. The bin is able to get more and more full because everyone just flings their bit of rubbish in and it’s not anybody’s job to take it out from time to time (ok, sorry).

    The university incentive is to deal with the regulatory challenges in front of them. And while these are ongoing conditions the information the university can rely on, publish, and collate, is often a retrospective indicator. To take only two examples. NSS reporting encourages universities to deal with the issues of students no longer at the insitution. Graduate Outcomes measure student performance at a point in time in an ever changing labour market.

    This isn’t to say students’ unions don’t do lots of things for individuals, it’s not to say that universities only care about the big issues, that isn’t true, it’s a question of how these two institutions keep an eye on both the structural problems and the emerging challenges.

    Public administration

    There are three interesting public administration and organising theories that might help conceptualise this challenge. Henry Mintzberg, one of the most important public administration theorists of the 20th century, imagines organisation strategy like a potter at a wheel. The raw ingredients exist (staff, committees, students’ unions, money, representatives, and so on), but the shape of the pot only comes into focus when hands are applied to it. This is strategy by doing says that strategic intent only becomes apparent through patterns in retrospect.

    This would mean that students’ unions would have much looser resource allocations and move across departments, programmes, central university structures, representative groups, and ways of working, where the challenges and insight led them. It would mean that universities find the means to have more hands at the wheel. Giving school, departmental, and faculty committees more power, allocating budgets for taking out the rubbish bin, and challenging central structures so they spend more time focussing on emerging problems, not the retrospective ones encouraged by the regulatory reporting cycle.

    Community organising, which is a direction of travel across students’ unions, is slightly different to Mintzberg’s theory of emergent strategy. As imagined by the likes of Saul Alinsky community organising assumes that communities have the solutions but not the positional power to address issues. Emergent strategy places a greater emphasis on cross-organisational actions that can both exist within and between sites of local organising. They are both about allowing ideas to emerge with greater flexibility; it is that ideas of emergent strategy places greater emphasis on the initiation of those ideas and the provision of the materials to affect change within an organisational context. This would hold that rather than having a committee of people to take the rubbish bin out let students do it themselves through helping them organise and giving them budgets and responsibilities.

    The other important theorists here are Denhardt and Denhardt and their idea of New Public Service which sets out organisations to serve rather than steer their stakeholders. In this model universities and students’ unions would spend much less time trying to fix the problems of their students but instead provide the spaces through which students could learn from each other, provide resources through which students could advocate for themselves, and provide insights that would allow students to more effectively make the case for change to the people in power. In this model the emphasis would be on how universities and students’ unions open up bureaucratic spaces to allow a greater plurality of student voices to come forward.

    These are just three models amongst many but they raise the question of the best means of keeping an eye on the accumulation of student issues that lead to generally bad experiences. It comes down to a set of trade-offs which could be brought into sharper relief. The extent to which the universities, students’ unions, and their partners, ultimately develop policy and ways of working to support people to solve their own problems and they extent to which they are better served putting the organisational bureaucracy behind these bigger issues.

    The rubbish bin theory although a metaphor brings into focus the literal problem of how universities value maintenance. The accumulation of student issues are partially addressed by the ongoing commitment to keeping stuff open, working, reliable, and functioning. In general, reward often follows doing a good new thing rather than keeping the good old thing working. The issue of the student experience is intrinsically tied to the recognition and reward of those who take the rubbish out.

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