Negative Capability in a Post-Doctoral Career
Header image: Javier Allegue Barros on Unsplash
Maki Rooksby is a post-doctoral researcher at IN&P, working on an ERC-funded Social Robots project at the Social Brain in Action Lab. Currently, they also hold a secondment appointment as an international policy and engagement officer at UofG. Maki originally trained as a developmental psychologist but after many career breaks and direction changes, seems to have accumulated a rather wide range of colourful but somewhat disparate research topics on their portfolio. In addition to their current research role above, these include patient-clinician communication, development of a prototype for attachment measurement in school children, socio-cultural phenomenon known as hikikomori, parenting experiences on cross-cultural levels, and social prescription activities such as participatory art for wellbeing of children affected by autism.
In this post, Maki discusses their career trajectory, why they have taken up a series of fixed-term research contracts instead of pursuing professorships, and how embracing “negative capability” gives us freedom in our employment, and our lives.
I got up at 5am that morning to catch a train to travel for a job interview, which was scheduled in the afternoon. My destination was one of the top universities in the country, and it was several hours away. I had enjoyed writing the job application, letting my imagination lead me to different situations within the described plans and cycle of the project, and how I would handle those. I had seen that this project had been awarded prestigious funding to address a neglected area of family psychology and I wanted to at least seek a chance to contribute to it. Thankfully, my travel went well, and I arrived on time. I enjoyed the interview, and the members of the panel were friendly. I took a detour on the way home, to see a friend who had had a baby recently. All in all, a long but meaningful day.
The phone rang a few days later. The chair of the interview panel. Excitement of the interview and of the full day I’d had were flowing back into my mind in technicolour. It had sounded like I had done well but this part of the conversation was dragging on. Naturally, I found myself waiting for that word… “but”. I was right and the conversation took a turn. This was fine- I had only applied to feel my way around anyway. I had just passed my viva, and was looking for what to do next. The application was for a research fellowship, and I had felt shy about applying, as it seemed like a big leap. Plus, it was somewhat outside of my PhD topic. However, the reason why I was not offered the position surprised me. Of course, there is never one reason when one is not selected for a job. Clearly, there was a strong competition, too. But the reason I was given was this: I did not sound like I was committed to an academic career. And it was true. I was attracted to the post because of its potential for clinical application. I had wanted to explore during the post whether a career as a clinician may be for me. I never thought I would be rejected for my curiosity in an alternative career path.
My doctoral supervisor offered me a post-mortem chat. He was a so-called “big name” in the research area, and I appreciated his support. He offered his sympathy for the outcome, but I wanted to discuss more about being turned down due to my lack of commitment to an academic career. He advice was this: in future job interviews for academic posts, I should “just say” (his actual words) that I want a career in academia and my ambition is to become an independent researcher. He added that anyone could change their minds afterwards.
Interestingly, not so long after the above interview, I was interviewed for a lectureship. So, what did I say when they asked me the same question about my future plans? Well, I had thought that perhaps, my supervisor was right, and I should focus on an academic career, at least when interviewing for one. But as I made the statement of commitment to academia to the panel, an internal turmoil within my mind spread like a blob of spilled ink, mixed with confusion and resistance against what had just come out of my mouth. I thought that any observant interviewer could sniff that. But I was offered the job, and even worse, I accepted it. My statement of commitment became like a baggage I had to carry with myself as I took up the appointment.
These events are now 16 years old. Today, after multiple career breaks, expertise changes, and multiple attempts to leave academia, I am still here. Whenever I think of this, a voice in my mind laughs at me, saying, “What a loser!”. It’s true. Even with career breaks, 16 years post-PhD is a long enough time for someone to progress to a professorship. But I have to face myself honestly and ask, “Have I ever wanted to be a professor, let alone gain independence as a researcher?”. My honest answer to that, is probably no, or at least, I have never been sure. When I think of this, I am grateful that I have been permitted to be unsure for all these years. Academia seemed to have something for me each time I came back and knocked their door, whether it was after career breaks or failed attempts to secure employment elsewhere. Overtime, I have learned to take my own perspective about what I seek in a research post when applying, rather than trying to behave as ‘expected’, i.e., with a display of ambitions and commitment to pursue an academic career. What has evolved from this process is a realisation that I enjoy doing research but my self-doubt and my being drawn to failures more than successes, is just unsuitable for the fiercely competitive culture in which faculty members must survive and thrive. In recent years, I have only applied to vacancies for projects that I felt passionate and genuinely desired to make a contribution. What is curious, which I have only realised by writing this post, is that I have so far held 100% success rate for securing them. Some of these appointments have included the experience of feeling scared of the scale of technical challenges or various complexities. During these times, I would feel utterly underqualified and stupid. However, I can smile to think of how we worked as a a team to come through those times, and I could smile for myself too, when I think of my overall experience on these posts. On reflection, I am quite ok with how I have done myself. I have published some papers that I could be proud of, and led a couple of small grants as PI. I suspect that my self-doubt has played a role in being stuck at repeating multiple fixed-term contracts. I accept I could be called a proper failure. But I am grateful for the process in which I have been able to explore various pathways during my postdoctoral years.
These days, I occasionally serve on the other side as part of interview panels, and experience the joys of welcoming new members to our lab. Whenever a candidate honestly and openly shares their thoughts on their future, I find it an intricate mix of what they aspire to achieve and what they are not yet sure about. It’s a lovely way to learn about the person that we are interested in hiring. I am grateful to be working with colleagues who recognise and respect the value of freedom to explore career options. But we cannot benefit from such freedom if we don’t accept uncertainty as part of the process. The poet John Keats called this negative capability- to refer to one’s ability to allow themselves to be in the dark. Negative capability doesn’t give us comfort. It may even be a risky stance to take, particularly during a job interview, like my failed one. And yet, as the poet suggested, it can invite us to be open-minded, flexible, and creative. I think it is also the secret to enjoying life through its ups and downs.
