The term networking has become ubiquitous today. From networking platforms such as LinkedIn to networking events at conferences, the practice of networking has become a mainstay of academic life. Attitudes towards networking seem to differ widely. Whereas some enjoy opportunities for networking and meeting new colleagues, some find the idea of networking dreadful.
Recently, I had a conversation with a few of my friends over dinner about an upcoming networking event they had to attend. It was hosted by the company they worked for, so their attendance was required. None of them were eager to take part. They would prefer solving equations and working on their code over “selling” their work to potential sponsors or cooperation partners, they told me. Unfortunately, marketing one’s ideas to others is often accompanied by small talk and shallow conversations.
At the end of the day, they all knew that this was an important part of their job. Securing funding for your own research or research institution is crucial—no matter if it’s physics or philosophy. Presenting yourself, your work, and the “value” you bring to the table is a skill that concerns just about everyone in professional life.
Even though the concept of networking is so present in our everyday lives and we all seem to have a broad idea of what networking is, there is something inherently problematic with the way we frame and pursue it. The logic of productivity, efficiency, and profit has infested the way we define the concept of networking and how we relate to the idea of connecting to other people within our field. This misconception not only forecloses meaningful relationships in the field but is also ethically problematic when we approach networking for the sake of solely profiting from others—especially when the profit gain is concealed. In my view, we need not cease creating networks in the sense of connecting with people within or outside our field; rather, we should change the objective of why we do so.
What does it mean to profit?
First, it will be helpful to differentiate between what it means to profit in academic and business contexts. When we compare businesses and universities, the lines are becoming increasingly blurred. In our economic system, academia is unfortunately very far from being detached from the capitalist rationale. In fact, universities are being pressured into acting like service providers responsible not for imparting knowledge but dealing out pieces of paper (degrees). These papers then prove that students having met career entry requirements as a qualified professional. The ideal of productivity thus pervades almost every inch of academia—from studying to get top grades in undergrad to the pressure to publish as much as possible as a researcher. Like many businesses, we focus more and more on quantity instead of quality—and this also applies to how we approach relationships in academia.
Of course, there is a significant difference between being pressured into acting like a business and being a business. The main difference between academic and business settings is that businesses work towards financial profit gain as the obvious and transparent end, whereas “profit” in academia—if the term is at all fitting—can be manifold.
The most obvious type of profit in academia is the kind we find in the economy elsewhere: financial profit. Financial profit most often appears in receiving funding for research projects, being awarded with scholarships and fellowships, or being invited to give talks, hold workshops, or fill consultation roles. These are connected to one’s salary—especially in those countries where salaries are not regulated by collective agreement—since pay often follows influence.
What makes the concept of profiting in academia complicated is relational gain. Relational gain is a kind of profit that is built on relationships and connections in one’s field. Whereas financial profit is visible, relational gain is invisible. It’s who you know—who you’re talking to on the phone after hours or sending emails to in order to organize a symposium at the next conference.
Academia is a sphere in which networks matter especially in this relational way—in some countries even more than in others. That is especially the case in Germany. In comparison to the U.S., certain research fields are much smaller, and it is easier to keep track of (or keep tabs on) people within the field. Moreover, whereas it is most common in the U.S. or the U.K. to apply formally for a PhD program, the status quo in Germany is to find a certain supervisor, which is called a Doktormutter or Doktorvater (directly translated as “PhD mother” or “PhD father”). If we look at the history of philosophy in Germany, it is also common to refer to philosophers as “students of” (Schüler von) someone. Choosing your supervisor or your PhD mother or father is something that will stick with you—or at least with your biography—forever (even like a real parent). It is no wonder that a system like that can come with strong hierarchies and power structures—even with severe cases of abuse of power.
The importance of relationships and your network is especially concerning if we consider the overall precariousness of academia. Working and succeeding in an academic context, which means making it to a permanent position, is a precarious and rocky path. Only a minority of young researchers will end up as a professor (women in some fields even less) and find themselves able to research and teach from a secure position. Most departments lack money and overall funding, and competition is stiff. And because the competition is so intense, there is a constant pressure to publish as much and as fast as possible and to give as many talks as possible. But academic “excellence” alone won’t guarantee a successful career. Luck and having connections in the field is almost equally important, if not more.
But why is the disguised nature of motives for relational gain problematic in academic networking? Being a young researcher who only started out in academia a few years ago, I can already recount numerous incidents that show the problematic side of networking in academic contexts. But what stood out to me hasn’t been a superficial display of “kindness” or exploitative behavior. Nor has it been situations in which I couldn’t genuinely appreciate receiving a compliment myself. What stood out the most have been the moments when I felt genuinely fascinated by something or someone but hesitated to share my appreciation, fearing it might come across as insincere or opportunistic. Because I know—and also experienced—that enough people exist who “play nice” to get something out of someone, I felt the need to prove my authenticity by asking a “good” or “difficult” question instead of sharing my honest thoughts.
It doesn’t matter if you are the person giving or receiving the compliment. Small interactions like these reveal the ambiguity and the issues that surround the act of networking in academia. Feeling like we either need to be cautious of how we express our appreciation or that we need to be suspicious of the motives of others is both justifiable and alarming.
From “networking” to “connecting”
If the preceding statements are right, networking—especially in academia—can be confusing and even problematic. The disguised nature of relationships in academic networking can affect how we behave in and also define networking contexts. But are we therefore doomed to be suspicious of our colleagues or should we stop networking altogether? Of course not. Besides its pragmatic functionality, the act of networking offers the potential for genuine connection, if we approach it differently.
I argue that we should shift our perspective to see networking as a vehicle for real human connection rather than merely a means to an end, that is, creating a network. Real human connection starts with genuine interest in the other person—that is, simply listening to what this person has to say, sharing experiences and interests, and asking sincere questions to understand and learn from each other.
If the focus lies on seeking connection by being genuinely interested in the other person instead of thinking about the effect or outcome it might have (e.g., the usefulness of the contact, the suspicion of their aims, the worry of coming across as insincere, etc.), we get the chance to focus on the intrinsic value—not only the intrinsic value of the human connection itself but also of our research. This shift of perspective can lay the groundwork for genuine relationships without ulterior motives.
Connexion pour connexion can offer various advantages. Depending on the situation or the person, connecting for the sake of connecting might entail having interesting conversations about your research, the reasons why you decided to pursue your path, or shared ideas and concepts. Especially in times like these, when academic life has become more precarious and the logic of productivity and need for usefulness pervade almost every aspect of it, relationships in which one can feel inspired, seen, and supported matter—and not for the sake of calling in a favor afterward. This doesn’t mean that this kind of relationship won’t be useful or enjoyable—it is quite the opposite. But the crucial aspect is that this type of connection is not oriented towards usefulness or mere enjoyment. They are only accompanying side effects.
How likely is it to find these special connections that might even turn into (academic) friendships? It is true that these relationships seem to be pretty rare. At the end of the day, not all interactions in networking contexts will or can tick these boxes. Some will realistically neither be enjoyable nor useful. But I am firmly convinced that if we focus on the intrinsic value of what networking can be, we will eventually come across like-minded people who share similar values and passions. Finding connections like these will add the most genuine value to our academic lives.
So, I think we should stop “networking” and move on to seeking real human connections. And who knows—maybe these connections can even lead to (academic) friendship, if we’re lucky.
Marieke Schaper
Marieke Schaper is an educational scientist and a philosopher of education. Her research interests are educational theory, transformative education, and ethics. Schaper publishes both in English and in German. Her most recent work on doubt and transformation appeared in Educational Theory.
