I just agreed to write a regular blog/column for an online publication. Naturally, I’ll be doing it for free.
We didn’t actually discuss payment. I’m embarrassed to bring it up. This publication, unlike most out there, actually does pay writers and I’ve been paid for articles in the past. But I’m also involved as an advisor of sorts, and I believe in their mission, and I’m not sure they’re still paying—it seems too good to be true—so I just didn’t ask. This is probably my own fault, compounded by the fact that I’m a woman and we’re terrible at asking for things.
I don’t think I’m alone in my awkwardness. There are several issues here. First, my generation grew up on unpaid internships (at least, the part of my generation that is upper-middle class and has parents that are willing to foot the bill for the duration of said unpaid internship). We all have tumblr accounts, and we blog, and we review movies and books— and we do it all for free. Free creative labor is becoming our habitus.
Take this statement from The New Inquiry, an online publication and darling of young literati:
Thinkers and writers of our generation face an unprecedented set of cultural realities. The growing supply of career academics has flooded the university job market, and 21st century technologies have thrown traditional media into crisis. Although the future of higher education and print remains obscure, these cultural sea changes have yielded one definite side effect: an abundance of young writers and thinkers resolved to pursue a public intellectual life for its own sake—a pursuit ordered and enabled by Internet technology.
It sounds like he bright young minds at TNI have all but given up on the prospect of being paid for their work. Then again, writing and thinking as occupational choices have always been risky. But my feeling is that the desperation and self-sacrifice of creatives is becoming the new normal in all kinds of occupations.
The second issue is that freelancers, independent contractors and even traditional employees—you may work for a single company but in all likelihood you won’t be there for very long—are responsible for their own training. Whereas large companies are able to invest in internal education and training programs (because it’s in their interest to invest in permanent employees) it’s increasingly an individual responsibility to keep up with new skills and get training. This is an added, hidden cost of independent work.
The opportunity for skill development is one reason I almost always agree to do stuff for free. Since I’m not sure what the future holds, I feel like the more skills I have the better.
In any case, companies like Facebook, Google, and Amazon are already figuring out how to profit from the incredible amount of creative work we’re all doing for free. Yet, as individuals we’re stuck with very little bargaining power.
Instead, we’re trapped in a high-risk system with a few winners and lots of losers. The Editor of the publication I’m writing for free for mentioned that two of their bloggers have received book deals. That’s awesome! But that’s 2 out of dozens, if not hundreds, of bloggers. The odds are pretty high that I will not be getting a book deal.
How many of us are furiously typing and posting away for free on a pipe dream that we’ll strike it internet rich? Very few people do.
Andrew Ross, a Professor of Social and Cultural Analysis at New York University, has been chronicling these trend for years in books like Nice Work if You Can Get It: Life and Labor in Precarious Times. He writes that while
“Corporate profits have never been higher, at a time when the real unemployment has soared…
free or token labor, unpaid internships, crowdsourcing, data-mining and the rest of it has
transformed so much of our commerce in culture into an amateur talent show, with jackpot stakes for a few winners and hard-luck schwag for everyone else.
Sounds harsh but true.
The internet can be a remarkably democratic device. And there are many tools like Kickstarter that are helping creative workers actually do the work they want to do and make money doing it. But the infrastructure for the independent, creative workforce is nowhere near where it needs to be. And I fear companies are getting ready to exploit that in ever bigger ways.
It’s clear that some some people have great jobs—million dollar office remodeling budget kind of jobs—and that other people have really crappy jobs. But what, exactly, makes a good job good? What makes a job officially bad?
In “Good Jobs, Bad Jobs: The Rise of Polarized and Precarious Employment Systems in the United States, 1970s to 2000s” sociologist Arne Kalleberg begins the difficult process of trying to define a “good” versus a “bad” job.
Here’s Kalleberg’s guidelines for a good job:
1. Pays relatively high earnings and—perhaps more importantly—provides opportunities for increases in earnings over time.
2. Provides adequate fringe benefits, such as health insurance and retirement benefits.
3. Enables the worker to have opportunities for autonomy and control over work activities.
4. Gives the worker some flexibility and control over scheduling and terms of employment.
5. Provides the worker with some control over the termination of the job.
Do I have a good job? Technically, I’m a student, but I’m also paid by the university. (PhD students usually have their tuition covered and are paid a stipend. In return, we do research or teach and devote 5-8 years of our lives to become an expert on an obscure topic).
So let’s see.
1. Pays relatively high earnings and—perhaps more importantly—provides opportunities for increases in earnings over time.
Well, at $21,000 a year, I hardly think my earnings are anything to write home about. It’s well below the median personal income for people over 25: $32,140 in 2005. Do I have opportunities for increases in earnings over time? That depends. If I get a tenure-track professorship after graduating, yes, definitely. But if I have to join the nomadic tribe of lecturers, I will have no job security and crappy pay.
So the answer is: I don’t know, maybe.
2. Provides adequate fringe benefits, such as health insurance and retirement benefits.
I currently get health insurance but no retirement benefits. The retirement benefits thing is particularly alarming considering the fact that I will be in school until I’m 30. Most people who get jobs out of high school or college—if they have access to employer provided retirement benefits—would have started their savings much earlier. Compound interest means that a few extra years of early saving could mean literally tens of thousands of dollars more in retirement. My “employer” never mentioned this to me. No one did.
Is saving for retirement a personal responsibility or a social one? My guess is that most people would answer that question based on ideological leanings. But previous generations—at least the white men in previous generations—had pensions. Guaranteed retirement savings, just for having a job. That seemed to work out pretty well. I think we’re headed for a major retirement crisis among younger generations.
The answer: No.
3. Enables the worker to have opportunities for autonomy and control over work activities.
Yes. That’s one of the most alluring aspects of academia. In theory, you get to research whatever you want—no boss telling you what to do and how. I have almost unlimited intellectual freedom. (Which is sometimes terrifying, but that’s another matter).
4. Gives the worker some flexibility and control over scheduling and terms of employment.
I’m not sure about the terms of employment part. But I definitely have flexibility over scheduling. I’m writing this blog instead of working on my research, from my home office, wearing pajamas. If I felt like keeping my New Year’s resolution, I could go out for a jog whenever I please.
So, yes.
5. Provides the worker with some control over the termination of the job.
Not sure. I’m pretty sure I can’t be PhD student forever.
So if I give my “job” half a point for each “maybe” answer and 1 point for each “yes,” my job gets a 3/5. So do I have a good jobs? Is 60% good a good job? Are these guidelines a helpful way to think about job quality?
According to this, do you have a good job?
I’m getting a PhD in sociology. Why? Because I didn’t like my first (and only) job, I’m good at school, and I love sociology. I’ve come to realize that these are absolutely abysmal reasons to get a PhD. But I’m three years in, so I’ve decided to roll with it.
On the bright side, I’ve stumbled on an area of research that I’m pretty fascinated with. This is good because it will be the only thing I think, read, and write about for the several years it takes me to write a dissertation.
The topic I’ll be writing on is precarious employment. What is that? No one is really sure, but, broadly, it’s employment that is risky—in terms of job security, access to benefits, family life, and so on. Temping is a classic example of precarious employment. Temps are hired for short periods of time and typically don’t have the same rights or access to the same benefits as full-time employees. They’re usually poorly paid and the first to be fired when things go south.
Precarious employment used to be relegated to so-called “low-skill” jobs, like clerical work and routine factory work. But now there’s a sense—and some evidence—that it’s spreading to all kinds of occupations. Even mine.
In the 1960s, almost all faculty positions were full-time, tenure track appointments. Tenure is a system wherein newly hired Assistant Professors publish like mad for about six years to prove that they are worthy of a lifetime appointment. You’re probably thinking: a lifetime appointment?! That’s madness. What if, after a few years, the professor becomes a lazy bum? Why shouldn’t the university be able to fire her?
The fact is, most professors do not become lazy bums. Tenure is critical for academic freedom and academic freedom is necessary for the advancement of science. Otherwise, universities could fire researchers for controversial findings. Researchers would be loathe to dissent from prevailing opinion—and what fun would that be?
Plus, academics make a tiny fraction of what they could probably make in the private sector, so the security of tenure helps retain top people in higher education.
So to recap: In 1969, 96.7% of faculty positions were tenure-track appointments. These are full-time positions, with good pay and great benefits. By the 1990s, that figure dropped to less than 50%. Now, only 1 in 4 faculty appointments is to a full-time, tenure-track position.
Instead, colleges and universities hire adjuncts and lecturers. These poor, overworked souls do the bulk of the teaching—often at several different universities—for which they get absolutely no credit and a paltry paycheck. It’s a vicious cycle: adjuncts and lecturers have to take crappy, precarious positions to earn a living, but it leaves them with no time to do research, which means they will likely never be hired for a tenure-track position.
I really, really don’t want that to be my life.
And I don’t want it to be your life, or anyone’s life. So I’m going to research the crap out of precarious employment—quantify the negative effects, investigate alternatives, pontificate about the politics—and hope someone out there is listening.
