Whenever aspects of my job start to get me down (usually the result of some new, nonsensical bureaucratic procedure introduced without consultation or, apparently, thought, whether at university or national level), I always try to remind myself that at least I have a job that, mostly, allows me to do stuff that I actually enjoy much of the time, and pays me very well for it; I am in a very privileged position in that respect, and I try not to forget it. It’s not that I think I have the perfect job – as I discussed a few months’ back, there are certain attractions about the idea of being compelled to switch to Plan B – but I would admit to slipping, now and again, into the assumption that it is potentially perfect; that were it not for the various things that stop me teaching, researching etc. in exactly the ways I’d prefer, it would be very hard to complain. An excellent essay in the latest edition of Jacobin, ‘In the Name of Love’ by Miya Tokumitsu, raises some important and searching questions about this sort of attitude; since reading it, I’ve been fighting the compulsion to quote lines and paragraphs on an hourly basis, and I can only urge you all to read it as soon as humanly possible. In my case, at least, it positively demands self-examination, and indeed a fair amount of self-reproach.
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