On Collaboration
By Elizabeth Spragins | Published on September 21, 2020
In this position paper, rather than highlighting new corpuses of study or discussing my own particular research, I want to make a more global argument about the position of interdisciplinary fields within today’s academy and open up a discussion about what Mediterranean studies, Iberian Studies, and early modern Hispanism might look like as a set of truly collaborative, intersecting fields. I argue that such collaboration not only would open up new areas of inquiry but may in fact be necessary in the realities of the contracting humanities and social sciences job market. This reality has become only more urgent amidst the spate of hiring freezes across the academy since the outbreak of COVID-19 this year.
Methodologically, Iberian and Mediterranean studies as fields rely on a set of approaches that respond organically to the diverse primary sources of the late antique, medieval, and early modern, and modern archives. Rather than allowing ourselves to be constrained by the artificial boundaries of our world today, scholars of both the Iberian Peninsula and the Mediterranean basin have instead sought to approach these intersecting regions by following the logic and organizing systems of the archives and spaces. In doing so, they have demonstrated that premodern Mediterranean societies and cultures understood the Middle Sea as a place of intense social, economic, political, and intellectual exchange. By displacing “the nation as the default category of analysis,” Iberian and Mediterranean studies respond to the complex multilingual, multiethnic and confessionally diverse realities of the pre-modern Iberian Peninsula and Mediterranean basin [1]. In contrast, the institutional structures in which these diverse spaces are studied continue to be bound by, as Sharon Kinoshita says, the “exigencies of nineteenth-century national ideologies.” Even if we work in administrative units like Romance languages, Iberian and Latin American Cultures, or Near Eastern studies, which promise multilingual and multicultural approaches, many of us continue to spend the bulk of our time teaching courses that serve nationalist agendas [2].
The winnowing down of the job market across the humanities and social sciences has the potential to further chill intellectual innovation in interdisciplinary contexts. If a department believes it needs to cover certain courses for an undergraduate major, will it be willing to take a risk on a junior scholar whose training does not squarely map onto the coverage model (i.e., an Iberianist rather than a traditionally trained, Cervantes-focusing Hispanist)? Despite the fundamentally interdisciplinary nature of our research, we are constrained by these institutional parameters that tend to disincentivize linguistically, culturally, and geographically diverse research. Bearing in mind such structural limitations, I suggest that the next step in Mediterranean Studies must be extensive cooperation among scholars not just in edited volumes or at conferences, but in article or book-length projects in which collaborators work together extensively to elucidate a shared intellectual question that they cannot answer working alone.
In the humanities, this is generally not the model we have adopted. Rather, we have followed and continue to follow an outdated Romantic vision of the genius intellectual that gestates and births his work of genius working entirely alone. Hiring and tenure processes continue to prioritize the monograph as the most desirable mode of research production in the humanities, as well as monograph peer-reviewed articles, followed distantly by monograph, peer-reviewed contributions to edited volumes. As recently as four years ago as a graduate student, I was advised by several different senior scholars to prioritize these forms of peer-reviewed publications over all else—the message was: “Get tenure first, then branch out.” And while contributions to edited volumes are widespread, a practice that approaches something closer to “collaborative research,” it is the rare edited volume, indeed, that actually puts the voices of its various authors in dialogue in an ongoing or extended fashion prior to publication, rather than merely through juxtaposition in a single, contained text. In these venues, ultimately, most authors are responsible for their own individual contributions. Ultimately, collaboration is “perceived as high-risk, low reward” [3]. Despite the radically changing landscape of the humanities job market—the MLA Job Information List, 2017–18: Final Report states that nearly a third of the pre-crash number of tenure-track jobs in “Languages Other than English” were advertised through the JIL in 2017–18 (334 compared to 906)—we continue to emphasize these traditional modes of publication as paving the path to success [4].
This is not to say that collaboration does not happen; certainly there are notable exceptions to this pattern. Indeed, Iberian and Mediterranean studies historically have been built on a number of critical collaborative efforts—famously, Peregrine Horden and Nicholas Purcell’s The Corrupting Sea, Kinoshita and Brian Catlos’s collaborative efforts, Michelle Hamilton and Núria Silleras-Fernández’s 2014 edited volume, and, more recently, David Wacks’s Open Iberia/América Teaching Anthology, to name just a few. In a sense, then, I am preaching to the choir here. These collaborative projects and collections have laid the groundwork for the logical next step in our interdisciplinary field. Nevertheless, all of these scholars cut their teeth on publishing single-author monographs. And, such collaboration, whether in the form of edited volumes, co-authored papers, or, very rarely, co-authored books, is not the work that tends to get junior scholars stable jobs or tenure. We are socialized from the beginning of our careers, then, into thinking that the most valuable work we can do is that we do alone, not what we can produce by working in a collective.
This is a model that necessarily limits the scope of research any one scholar produces and places unnecessary and self-imposed limitations on our ability as a set of interdisciplinary fields to produce innovative research. In other academic disciplines and professional arenas, by and large, the accepted model of work is collaborative—we see this in the sciences and some of the more quantitative social sciences in multi-author papers that bring the local expertise of different scientists to bear on a question at the interstices of their work. In these contexts, monographs are the more unusual publications and scholars are primarily evaluated on and rewarded for the success of their work in collective groups. Postdocs, jobs, and career advancement are predicated on whether a scholar successfully manages and directs bigger projects and demonstrates the interpersonal skills and intellectual vision needed to carry such large projects to fruition. Extensive, team-based collaboration on article- or book-length projects, broadly practiced in the sciences and social sciences, is underutilized in the humanities. I would argue that interdisciplinary fields like Iberian and Mediterranean studies stand the most to gain from such practices.
While humanities collaboration most commonly appears in the digital humanities, initiatives like Humanities Without Walls funded by the Andrew Mellon Foundation have promoted collaborative efforts among scholars from different fields and different institutions to address issues like climate change, political and cultural divides, or the ethics of technology. On a global level, some proponents of different modes of collaborative research argue that it improves individual collaborators’ research process, writings skills, collegiality, and tendency to meet deadlines, with knock-on effects for areas beyond the immediate research project. Sharon Alker and Holly Faith Nelson argue that their experience working collaboratively effectively proved to increase “the historical span of […] expertise by delving more deeply into the periods in which [each] had specialized during doctoral studies” [5]. They also expound the benefits of working within and applying different interpretive frameworks to the literary texts they jointly research. These and other benefits must surely only be compounded in interdisciplinary fields like Iberian and Mediterranean studies, in which cross-cultural knowledge, competency in multiple languages, and other skill sets and knowledge bases are the sine qua non of analysis.
If we consider the demands placed on individual faculty members by the alarming stagnation in the job market across the North American academy, especially the humanities, ultimately this problem boils down to the problem Chad Leahy so cogently identified in his talk: time. As he noted following Foucault, “the act of carving up time is fundamentally an exercise of power.” [6] At a time when universities continue to aggressively cut budgets and combine humanities departments into umbrella structures that ask fewer faculty members to cover more ground, we must begin to push back using solidarity not only within academic governance structures, but also by overturning tired research models. Working together in deeply meaningful ways on shared intellectual projects responds to our human needs for connection—an ever-more-challenging prospect in these months of social isolation—and also, more pragmatically, builds the roots of collaboration and solidarity that we need to organize against the institutional structures that exploit us and our students. We need to take back our time and use the time that we have to build up new and more just systems of knowledge and education.
Given the above conditions of the academic reality we research and teach in, extensive collaboration is the most obvious way to produce innovative research in a field that is at times structurally relegated to the institutional margins and that has defined itself as thriving in those interstitial places [7]. If much of our training and teaching continue to be organized along national boundaries of geography, language, and culture, then the answers to our interdisciplinary questions must lie between us and among us. What I’d like to ask this audience to consider going forward is:
- What new forms collaborative research in Iberian and Mediterranean studies might take?
- How might senior faculty help change existing structures to reward, rather than penalize, junior scholars’ collaborative work in the field? How might tenure letters be rewritten to applaud such efforts, rather than dismiss them as less rigorous than single author monographs?
- What alternative modes of publication might emerge from more intensive collaborative efforts? How might, as Rachel Stein proposed, open access publishing efforts better support and make these research modalities more accessible?
- Why has Iberian studies left the Mediterranean out? [8]
- How are we going to “do” Mediterranean studies? How do you get people together? How do you marshal resources on your campus? How do you get the momentum going? [9]
I would like to think that were we as a field to try to start untangling some of the structural binds and disincentives against collaborative work, this would be fruitful not only for the expansion of Mediterranean studies intellectually, but could also open us up to greater institutional flexibility as a field and as scholars to better advocate for ourselves in this crisis in the humanities.
Notes
- Kinoshita, “Medieval Mediterranean Literature,” 602[↑]
- Kinoshita, “Negotiating the Corrupting Sea,” 35–6[↑]
- McGrath, “Collaboration in the Humanities”[↑]
- Lusin, “The MLA Job Information List”[↑]
- Alker and Nelson, “Collaboration in the Humanities,” 586[↑]
- Admittedly, urgency and precarity in academia is not unique to this moment—a long-time mentor likes to remind me that when she first began working as a professor in the early 1990s, her colleagues were already bemoaning the crisis in the humanities. It would be difficult to argue, however, that the academic market of the late 80s and early 90s in any way approximates the dire employment prospects that today’s graduate students and early career scholars are facing. 15 or 20 years ago, a highly qualified candidate might expect to be able to leverage multiple offers to obtain the most advantageous or best-fitting position. Now, the statistical likelihood of a single candidate beating out 150+ other applicants on 2 out of the 4 available jobs in the country is laughably low. And yet, many committees continue to behave defensively as though this is a real possibility. The result is a buyers’ market in which the buyers hold all of the structural power and can further tilt the system in their own favor.[↑]
- Kinoshita, “Negotiating the Corrupting Sea,” 37[↑]
- Robert Patrick Newcombe posed this question at the original presentation of the talk.[↑]
- David Wacks proposed these questions in Seattle.[↑]