The Campus Trilogy

by AnonYMous

  Without much difficulty I found these on the university website. They stated that two references should be sought from outside experts, and that the appeal would be heard by the Registrar, the Dean, and the Visitor. I then sent an email to the Regius Professor of Divinity at Bosworth and the Archbishop of Cannonbury asking them if they would be willing to write references about my work. Later in the day I received emails from both of them. They indicated their shock and bewilderment at the university’s decision and they agreed unreservedly to act on my behalf. I then wrote a letter to the Registrar, stating that I wished to appeal and listed the Regius Professor and the Archbishop as my referees.

  For a week I heard nothing. Then I received a brief note from the Registrar, telling me the date of the appeal. It was to take place in the Registrar’s Office in two weeks time. I was allowed to have a representative attend. I sent Penelope an email asking if she would accompany me. In the meantime there was a general memo to the department from Pilkington listing those who were to be included in the RAE submission, and asking if they would send him copies of the works they planned to submit. I noticed that three other members of the department besides me were not included. One had recently been appointed; the others were Magnus and a senior lecturer in patristics who only published book reviews in theological journals. This was profoundly embarrassing. I wondered what the other members of the department made of my exclusion.

  On the day of the appeal, I arrived early wearing my best suit and dog-collar. Penelope looked nervous as we waited outside the Registrar’s office. “Look, I don’t know anything about theology,” she said.

  “I know, but you can make sure they act fairly.”

  “I can do that,” she said hesitantly. “But I’m not an expert. Still you do have very impressive referees.”

  Sloth opened the door and ushered us in. The Provost of the Cathedral was sitting at the head of the table. Wanda was on his right. Sloth sat opposite Wanda and gestured towards a couple of hard chairs. Wanda had a notepad in front of her as well as a file of papers. Sloth began by outlining the procedures. I was to speak first, and then Wanda and the Visitor would ask questions. The appeal would last no more than half an hour.

  I began by explaining that I had been teaching Christian ethics for over thirty years, and that I had been included in the last Research Assessment Exercise in which the department had achieved high marks. My new book, I stressed, was designed for a wide audience, but had ample footnotes and a bibliography of relevant works. I explained that my textbook on Christian ethics was highly innovative, was widely used in universities and theological colleges and contained substantial original material. I also handed out a list of my other publications including articles in prestigious scholarly journals and the book chapters. In addition I circulated a number of favourable reviews of both books including the article in The Observer.

  Wanda made copious notes as I spoke. The Visitor looked uneasy. When I finished, he commented that my most recent book was not entirely in accord with the teachings of the Church of England. I pointed out that that was not the criterion used in the RAE exercise. “Nonetheless, we wouldn’t want people to be led astray,” said the Provost.

  “But the Archbishop himself is supporting my appeal,” I said indignantly.

  The Provost sighed. “Yes, it’s all very awkward, very difficult, very embarrassing. I’m thinking we should be trying to find a middle way.” He wrung his hands.

  “There is no middle way, Provost,” said Sloth firmly. “Either Harry is to be included in the St Sebastian’s RAE submission, or he is not. I vote that we follow the advice of the outside assessor.”

  “But what did the outside assessor say?” I asked.

  “That is not your affair,” snapped Wanda. “The judgment was reached in an open, transparent manner and that is sufficient. And it is entirely confidential. I agree with the Registrar.”

  The Provost looked uncomfortable. “Oh dear,” he said. “I am most reluctant to go against what the dear Archbishop recommends.”

  “Well, it really doesn’t matter,” boomed Sloth. “The committee already has a majority.”

  “In that case,” the Provost said, “I want to put on record how very impressed I was with the references of the Archbishop and the Regius Professor of Divinity. But of course, I cannot describe myself as an expert. It is always unwise to go against the advice of an external assessor – although, of course, I haven’t seen that …”

  I was aghast. “You mean they haven’t let you see the external report?”

  “It’s confidential,” said Sloth. He was wide awake.

  “But Provost,” I said desperately, “then you only have the word of these two. You don’t know what the assessor said, nor do I. What I do know is that there is a long history which I am very willing to describe to you of these two trying to get rid of me. What is happening is they are hiding behind confidentiality to drive me out of my job.”

  “I deeply resent the implication,” said Wanda. “How dare you suggest that the system is anything but completely fair!”

  “Oh dear, oh dear,” lamented the Provost. “Unpleasantness is always to be regretted. I think, Dr Sloth, if you will excuse me, I really must leave now. I have an appointment later in the day to talk the cathedral sacristans.”

  It was the end of the meeting. I knew I was defeated. Penelope shook her head but she remained silent. She knew there was nothing she could say. I walked in the direction of my office fuming. Magnus was waiting for me by the chapel. “Well?” he said.

  “Hopeless!” I said. “They wouldn’t even discuss the references. They just said they had to follow the assessor, whose report the Provost of the Cathedral hadn’t even seen.”

  “Did they mention summer school?”

  “Not yet.”

  When I arrived home, I told Victoria the saga of what had happened. Cleo was sitting on my lap as I recounted the interview; Brutus was chasing his paper ball.

  In the middle of my furious exposition, the telephone rang. It was Oscar. He told me that the Sweetpea Board of Trustees had approved Thomas Jefferson’s offer of the Distinguished Professorship and were in the process of sorting out details. The salary for the Chair was to be one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars a year and the duties would be minimal.

  Thomas Jefferson had also offered the use of a small cottage on his estate which was fully furnished. There would be a token rent of a hundred dollars a year. The cottage had previously been used as a museum for the Porpoise estate, and contained antique furniture dating from the colonial period. It was very much hoped that I would take up the offer and begin in September. The Board would be writing to me officially within the next few days. He concluded by emphasizing how much Thomas Jefferson wanted me to accept the position. He planned to have a inaugural ball in our honour when we arrived.

  “Well, Harry,” Victoria said, “that’s quite an offer. Double your salary, free housing and nothing to do. And the cottage sounds charming.”

  “Would you really like it?”

  “It would be wonderful for you. And I am interested in the offer from the Washington Post. I’ve heard from them too. They really do want to have me on the books. Do you want to go?”

  “Well, after what has just happened it does sound tempting. But what about your father?”

  “That is a problem, but he could come and stay with us. He’d love the United States and he’s never crossed the Atlantic.”

  “And what about our house?”

  “Look, Harry. We don’t have to make any decisions. But we should think about it. Now, what would you like for supper?”

  When I told Magnus about Oscar’s offer, he was astounded. “One-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollars for doing nothing. It’s not fair!”

  “But Magnus, you just won a quarter of a million pounds for doing nothing.”

  “That’s different. And they’re giving you a house to live in? On an estate? With colonial antique furniture?”

>   “That’s what the President said.”

  “And a car?”

  “Well, I was thinking I might buy the car we used when we visited last month. I was offered a deal on it.”

  “The Rolls?”

  “Do you think I shouldn’t?” I asked sheepishly.

  Magnus put his head in his hands. “This isn’t fair!”

  “You could visit us on your cruise, once we’ve settled in Virginia,” I said.

  “So you’ve decided?”

  “No we haven’t, but the tide is turning against St Sebastian’s. The only real objection to Virginia is the thought that that horrid little Grundy will get my job. That does put me off. Not to mention the fact that the ghastly Gold will have won.”

  Magnus shook his head gravely. “But you must be forgiving toward your enemies. That’s what our school padre used to say.”

  “Oh, shut up, Magnus!” I responded.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Union Will Not Tolerate It

  The last few weeks of the summer term were devoted to examining. In the midst of marking exam scripts, we were contacted by the UCU. The union and the university were anxious to communicate information about the new pay scale, and a meeting was to take place before the examinations finished. Penelope sent an email out to all members informing them of the date. I emailed her back. Everything that had been happening this past year had been designed to persuade me to take early retirement and I was livid. I was determined not to let the matter rest:

  Private and Confidential

  Penelope,

  Thanks for your email. I will of course attend the meeting. But I want to give you my reaction to the recent UCU appeal and also to say something about the events of the last year. I am very grateful indeed to the union for its support, but unfortunately it demonstrates that very little can be done against the systematic corruption of the university. It is clear that the authorities have been united in trying to drive me out of my job. In my view, the Vice-Chancellor will do anything for money. The Registrar (and his wife) are idle and incompetent. My Head of Department, John Pilkington, cannot see beyond his own suburban prejudices. Wanda Catnip is a sad, embittered women who finds compensation for her personal inadequacies only by making the lives of her colleagues miserable with her bossy officiousness. Even the Visitor, the Provost of St Sebastian’s Cathedral, is weak and entirely devoid of principle. I was given first an oral and then a written warning without any justification. My research students have been encouraged to make unjustified complaints against me. My exclusion from the RAE is the result of naked discrimination. On top of all this, on several occasions I have been urged to take early retirement, even though I have made it crystal clear that I have no desire to do so. The more I stood firm, the more determined the university managers have been to evict me. I have reached the end of my tether. I would very much like to meet with you and Morris O’Murphy in the very near future to discuss what more, if anything, can be done.

  Best wishes, Harry.

  Later in the day, I had an hysterical call from Penelope. “Harry,” she said. “You’ve made a terrible blunder. Your email has gone out to all members of the UCU.”

  “I don’t understand.” I was bewildered.

  “You replied to my email about the meeting. That was sent to the entire UCU. By emailing me back, your reply went out to everyone on my list.”

  I gasped. “But it was marked Private and Confidential.”

  “That doesn’t make any difference. By replying to my email, the whole UCU received what you sent.”

  “So anyone could read it?”

  “Everyone has read it. I have been answering the telephone all afternoon. Harry, you said the Dean was officious. You accused the Vice-Chancellor of corruption. You said John was prejudiced. You labelled the Registrar incompetent. You maintained that the Provost has no principles. You are in deep shit, Harry.”

  I was aghast, but also a little amused. I laughed.

  “Harry,” Penelope went on desperately, “I don’t know how the union is going to defend you. You have libelled the entire administration. This is now potentially a legal matter. We don’t deal with defamation of character.”

  “It’s only libellous if it’s untrue,” I said meekly.

  “But how are you going to prove it? Oh dear, Harry, I don’t know what to do. I have to see the Vice-Chancellor in an hour. He’s already contacted the university lawyers. Really, what were you thinking?”

  “But I didn’t know it would go out to everyone. I never did understand how email works.”

  “Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you after I see the Vice-Chancellor.”

  I put the phone down. It rang again; it was Magnus. “Magnificent!” he said. “Best email I’ve ever had! They deserved it! The whole lot of them! Wish I had done it!”

  “I’m in the shit,” I said.

  “Of course you are! But what a way to go! Have you heard from the Vice-Chancellor yet?”

  “No, from Penelope. She’s meeting Barraclough with the university lawyers.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “I think they’ll probably sack me.”

  There was a pause. “I doubt it,” said Magnus stoutly. “If there’s one thing they hate, it’s bad publicity.”

  “What should I do?”

  “I’d sit tight. See what happens. Keep me informed. Wonderful email! I think I’ll frame it.”

  I felt terrible and rang Victoria. She roared with laughter. “Terrific mistake! How hilarious! Daddy’ll adore it! They’ll never sue you. There’s too much justification on your side.”

  There was an examiners’ meeting the next afternoon. I didn’t want to go, but I had to attend since all my courses were being discussed. I came in late and sat at the back. Everyone stared. John looked extremely hostile. Magnus had kept a seat for me. He looked radiant and passed me a note: ‘Everyone’s talking about your email. I think you’ve shocked their bourgeois sensibilities. But don’t worry, they’re all enjoying themselves. The greatest happiness of the greatest number, remember!’

  At the end of the meeting, Magnus and I walked to the Senior Common Room for tea. Standing in the queue, I sensed everyone looking at me. I heard colleagues whispering as we made our way to a table in the corner. Magnus poured us both tea and handed me a teacake. “Any news?”

  “Nothing yet,” I said.

  “What did Victoria say?”

  “She was delighted. She thought it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. She doesn’t think they’ll sue.”

  “Of course they won’t. But they will summon you.”

  “I know.”

  “Have you decided about the American job?”

  “Maybe I ought to take it.”

  “Of course you should! You have no choice now. But make them sweat first. Be sure to get the best retirement deal you can from St Sebastian’s.”

  “But I won’t be retiring. I’ll be going to another job.”

  Magnus looked at me as if I were an idiot child. “Really, Harry! You’re so unworldly! How your father made a fortune in fish fingers is beyond me. Didn’t you pick up any of his financial skills?”

  “I was always hopeless. That’s why I went into academic life,” I said meekly.

  “Listen to me,” said Magnus, “You’ll be retiring from the English university system, so of course you can get a deal. What you do in America is your own business. As far as the university is concerned you’ll be an old age pensioner like the rest of us.”

  “What kind of deal are you thinking of?”

  “They’re not going to want bad publicity. In the end they’ll pay you to go away. Insist that they enhance your pension to the maximum and make them give you a paid year’s sabbatical. After all, I set a precedent. If they did it for me, they will have to do it for you.” Magnus thought for a moment and then he whispered, “But don’t let them know you are going to another job, whatever you do. If they think you are going to leave anyway, they wo
n’t give you a thing. You know what they’re like.”

  “So what should I do?”

  “They’re bound to set up some kind of disciplinary panel. They’ll huff and they’ll puff, but they won’t dismiss you. You’re too well known, too many friends in high places. There’d be too much bad publicity for the university. Once they give you another warning, go and see Barraclough, looking desperate. Tell him the stress has got to you and you might think about leaving if he offered a good enough deal. Then wait and see what comes up. You’ve got to be firm with those bastards. This is no time to for Christian charity or forgiving your enemies or any nonsense like that …”

  “You think it will work?” I found it hard to believe.

  “Trust me.” Magnus was very positive. “I know it will.”

  After tea I returned to my office. There was a call from Penelope. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner,” she said. “But I wanted to get in touch with Morris. The Vice-Chancellor is planning to set up a disciplinary panel under Provision 35 of the university regulations. There’s a real danger here. Potentially they could sack you on the spot for gross misconduct. Morris doesn’t think they will and he will fight them if they do. He wants to be your representative. The Vice-Chancellor will let us know the date of the meeting. In the meantime, Morris wants you to write a letter about the email. You’ve got to explain that it was sent out by mistake. And, he says you must retract what you said.”

  “But every word of it was true!”

  “I know that and you know that, but Morris thinks you have no choice.”

  “I see. And what does he think will happen?”

  “In the end, they’ll give you another written warning. So you’ll have two written warnings. I have to say you are near the ejector button, but Morris insists that it’ll be all right.”

  “Well, that’s comforting.”

  “Sorry, Harry, but that’s the way it is. It was a very stupid thing to do.”