Recent research reveals that around two thirds of University Research Staff in the UK are employed on fixed-term contracts, which are usually less than two years. This practice has no end in sight. One of my colleagues jumped between fixed-term contracts for 17 years. I am just starting my fifth year on a series of fixed-term contracts.

What does this do to academics’ mental health? In a 2019 study in the UK, “two-thirds of respondents (71%) said they believed their mental health had been damaged by working on insecure contracts and more than two-fifths (43%) said it had impacted on their physical health.” This is not a surprise. As many readers will know, insecure work in academia means incessant rounds of redundancy, endless job applications in a notoriously difficult job market, regularly changing employers, or even moving across the country. Or you could choose the route of writing laborious and hugely competitive grant applications mostly in your own time. The stakes are high: your economic survival. As such, accepting a fixed-term contract can be a risky strategy.

I am a mental health researcher, a mum, a person who lives with mental illness, and a lover of the outdoors. I am passionate about achieving research impact, and an advocate of lived-experience research. I want to make this clear: I wholeheartedly love my career, my academic research work, my job, and my excellent and supportive team. I love the intellectual challenge, I love the creativity and problem solving. I love doing impactful research that makes a difference, building networks, collaborating, writing and reading. I thrive in my job, and I am good at it. However, my fixed-term contract is harming my mental health.

The toxic relationship 

I have often-times reflected that many research academics’ relationships with their employers (universities) mirror an abusive relationship. A relationship where you lack any power, other than the power to leave the career that you love and often sacrificed so much for. In this blog, I reflect on why fixed-term contracts share many similarities with toxic relationships. 

1. Lack of commitment 

Despite employees’ annual reviews showing ‘performing beyond expected’, despite bringing in research funding, publishing papers, achieving impact, and producing award winning research, some universities will not commit. After two years, they give you an ‘Open’ contract, which for most means absolutely nothing other than better mortgage rates.

In my experience, the moment your grant funding ends, researchers are cast into the wilderness, usually barred from their e-mails the very next day. Projects you were working on, such as outputs, relationships, collaborations and grant bids, are terminated. Sometimes you can be redeployed to another role department, but it is not guaranteed.

2. Exploitation/wage-theft

It is hard to get promoted in academia. You have to work above your pay grade for two years, and then even after you are promoted, you wait months to see the difference in your pay. Heffernan and Smiths recently referred to this process as ‘wage theft’. Also, the long forms you fill in to justify your promotion are especially hard if you work part-time, are disabled, and/or have caring responsibilities. It is easier (but not easy) if you have none of these, thus meaning it is more likely to happen for some but not others.

In my experience, it is even harder to get promoted if you are on a fixed-term contract. You can’t plan for promotion as you don’t know what you will be doing. Energy for promotion forms are reserved for grant/job applications. Contract researchers may even choose to stay at Research Associate grade rather than be promoted as there are more job opportunities at this grade. Consequently, many fixed-term contract Research Associates (RAs) are not able to take the credit on the bids they often mostly write, and even have the ideas for.

My experience (and conversations with others) has taught me that sometimes researchers don’t get paid correctly because of the complex funding situation that arises from myriad grant incomes. Sometimes this mistake won’t be corrected immediately as the changes need to be approved by several layers of committees. I was recently at a writing retreat and a PI commented on just how frequently their staff just weren’t paid properly. 

3. They treat you differently to others

Fixed-term contract researchers miss out on so many opportunities. Despite claiming they are not treated any differently to permanent colleagues, the fixed-term status means they usually cannot apply for many academic citizenship roles of committees as they require you to have X (usually unachievable) months left on your contract. Many cannot supervise PhD students, despite their obviously valuable expertise.

4. The contract cycle is full of highs and lows

Anyone who has been in a toxic relationship will know that the relationship thrives and grows on the toxic cycle of amazing euphoric highs and then painful lows. You stick around hoping the highs will last forever. They never do. There is rarely any equilibrium. Grants and papers accepted, fantastic, I LOVE my job! Not so great: the rejections, the stressful end of contract period, the unpaid work at weekends and evenings frantically writing applications for your survival and the constant feeling of not being appreciated or worthy. 

Why do I stay?

So, how have (we) I stayed in academia this long, you ask? Why aren’t I running for the hills?! Well, this is where I have to draw on my understanding of psychology.

Splitting

I’m good at this. This is where you abandon the ability to assess something in its entirety, and instead compartmentalise parts of a whole into ‘good’ and ‘bad’ camps. It is a survival mechanism that children in dysfunctional families adopt to maintain their view of their parents as ‘good’ in the absence of overwhelming evidence of the opposite. I’m really good at splitting. There are the ‘good’ bits of my job including the work I do and my excellent team.  And then there are the ‘bad’ bits. I separate the two and I focus only on the good bits as my reason for staying. Perhaps if I stepped back and viewed the whole picture, I might be more inclined to leave.

“You wouldn’t find anyone better!”

This is a line from a toxic partner. This is repeated in my head when I am thinking about leaving academia. Would it really be better anywhere else? Don’t other organisations and employers also have troubles? Would I find anywhere that offered flexible working? Could I dare to hope for any better?

“Join a Union!” my partner says. Well, I looked into that, but unions – at least in the country where I am employed – appear to be more interested in teaching. We bring it up at every meeting, but the answer is always the same: There is nothing anyone in the system can do about fixed-term contracts.

In other places around the world, people are suffering in similar circumstances. In Australia, the National Tertiary Education Union (NTEU) has been vocal about the harmful nature of fixed-term contracts, with NTEU Queensland Secretary Michael McNally recently saying, “The abuse of fixed-term appointments is rife, right across the sector… It’s immoral.” 

The impact on my mental health

Prior to entering academia, I grew up in a household where my parents did the best they could with some of the very harsh hands life dealt them. But, their best didn’t produce an optimal childhood. My childhood was full of trauma, and that is all you need to understand about that.

I survived by developing coping mechanisms that included perfectionism and working too hard. I’m always trying to measure myself or my success, always trying to be better, always trying to be more, in the hope that I will feel OK. I’ve had a lot of therapy, and I am mostly (and surprisingly) doing really well. I truly believe I will be a cycle breaker. I am so proud of that. It is my proudest thing.

My experiences as a child and my related lifelong poor mental health are huge motivators for my academic work. I love researching ways to prevent poor mental health and trying to make a difference to the world. Make a difference to people like me.

However, my past experiences mean that I am also vulnerable to exploitation.

Academia won’t commit – but I don’t leave. I stay. I am used to chaos and uncertainty and I don’t fight for any better for myself. I am always in fight or flight mode, fearful of where my next job will come from, knowing no matter how hard I work I may lose my job. Fixed-term contracts replicate and trigger my childhood trauma, my sense of never feeling safe, being undervalued, and having my basic needs ignored. Surviving on multiple fixed-term contracts has clearly harmed my mental health and forced me to live in a state of perpetual anxiety.

There is an overwhelming sense that there is nothing I can do. At the same time, I say to myself, “If I work *extra* hard, then maybe unemployment is less likely.” I am used to this feeling. I have done this my whole life, from trying to get all A’s to escape to University, to applying for the next grant. Fighting and achieving is how I survived as a child. I can function like this. I can survive this. But I know it is not healthy.

^Resolution?

I don’t have the answers. I currently have two years left on my contract and I am feeling safe and enjoying the ‘highs’, but the last year has been incredibly stressful.  There are a few things that I have found helpful. I am working with a fantastic career coach who is helping me to prioritise myself, look after myself, and make sure my academic work is also working for me. I speak openly to my wonderful team. I also have a wide network of colleagues working at many different institutions around the UK, and we support each other as we are all in the same boat. We remind each other that rejection it isn’t personal, even when it feels like it is. 

Long term, I have to work out whether I can survive a continuous cycle of fixed-term contracts, or if, like so many, I will have to find other work that doesn’t exacerbate poor mental health. I really want to continue my academic research work and I love my job. I wish something could change. A permanent contract would be a beautiful thing. And do you know what? I totally deserve it. 

The author is a mental health researcher living in England. They love being outside and spending time with their family.

This blog is kindly sponsored by G-Research