Rosalie Arcala Hall, writing from Iloilo in the Philippines.

In travel, detours present unlikely possibilities. As an academic, I have taken very few of these in my quest to get published and move at the top of my specialization. I have always taken a purposeful approach towards my time and effort– whether attending a conference (network! find publication outlets! project collaborators!) or picking a topic to read or write about (must tie in with the military! build up, not out, onto existing corpus of personal publication!). I live my life like my subject of specialization: mission-oriented, parsimonious and driven. Stopping along the roadside to smell the flowers has never been my thing.

But in the past few weeks, I have embarked on activities which took me out of my well-trodden path as Political Scientist and military expert. I attended a university system-wide research workshop on the environment which brought together natural/physical and social scientists in one roof. This literal meet-and-greet was a first in my University, where faculty members are accustomed to talking only to their kind. Having a conversation with a marine biodiversity expert, an agricultural economist and a medical epidemiologist was an eye opening experience for me; it also brought to the forefront a long subsumed public policy analytical lens bequeathed to me by my professors from graduate school in Boston. Rather than being out of my element, I was buoyed by my ignorance of the scientific literature.

The second was another workshop that brought together faculty members from different universities in our region to introduce and socialize the idea of doing multidisciplinary research, this time under the auspices of the government Commission on Higher Education. Contrary to my previous roles as proponent, leader or resource person, I was engaged as a facilitator, to bring together a diverse group of ten overworked (they handle 8-10 classes per semester), teaching-focused academics to hammer out a proposal on “changing family structure” in two and 1/2 days. I had to suppress my natural instincts to dominate, impose and be goal-oriented (finish all the sections!) in this exercise. In the process, I learned to listen more attentively, to be inclusive, diplomatic and life affirming.

The third was a sociological conference, at which I presented a paper on the soft technology of counterinsurgency. While this is is not my first foray into another academic discipline (the other time was with a convention of statisticians!), the kind of questions I elicited from sociologists were insightful and refreshing. Moreover, the other papers read were so engaging, current, rooted and a tinged irreverent (case in point: ethnonationalist conflict between Muslims and Christians played in social network discourse), it made me reflect on how boring and pedantic by comparison the other conferences I have been to tend to be. It also made me want to read out into sociological theories.

This out-of-discipline experience considerably expanded and deepened my worldview and network. I am being invited to a play in a sandbox, for which concrete rewards (at least those that count) are not likely to come. I am not certain whether I would eventually decide to take up the invitation. Would I be involved in a research project with them? Publish in a sociology journal? These are daunting prospects for somebody like me, still trying to earn my wings. But I am glad to at least have taken the detour.

This post was also published in Inside Higher Ed

Rosalie Arcala Hall, writing from Iloilo, Philippines

A friend and fellow academic from Monash University, Sunway Campus in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia recently came for a 4-day scoping visit in Iloilo. My husband I are helping him establish connections, line up resources and connections and scout for logistics for a study tour for 18-20 students in January 2013. The “In Search of Iloilo” visit is the 8th such activity in Southeast Asia he has independently planned and carried out for his home institution. Previously, he has brought different groups of students to Saigon, Yogyakarta and Baguio. In this four-day visit, I came to know more about his film documentaries (on street vendors; on informal sector workers) and the social activist streak he has successfully incorporated into his academic and artistic work. It made me reflect on the kind of scholarly path I have taken thus far, and how by comparison it lacks the kind of social imprint that my circle of academic friends have managed to pursue in their lives.

Having been elsewhere (abroad) for almost half of my 20-year academic career at UP Visayas gives me an added feeling that I lack local rooted-ness. I saw my career projected outward– competing for international research grants and presenting local realities to foreign audiences. Being in and out every two years also made me realize how little I know of the many good local community works my colleagues are doing– running a food subsidy program for poor students; embarking on an aggressive student recruitment drive among public high school students; providing technical assistance in coastal resource mapping for municipal governments. My colleagues have moved in the direction of providing substance to our university’s mandate of giving back to the public that provides us tax money.

Gender concerns, which was my original advocacy passion, has evolved in my region (Western Visayas) in collaborative directions through the UGSAD, the regional gender resource center. I was recently recruited as an affiliate to attend a consultation hosted by the Commission on Human Rights on Philippine compliance to various rights treaties. The attendees, drawn from a broad sector of civil society, had such rich discussion of their work with young persons in conflict with the law, people with HIV, sex workers, informal settlers… I felt so lame having just done field work with women in the army and police. In the company of these veteran civil society actors, I was a novice whose theoretical frames and foreign comparisons have little bearing on everyday realities. Non-governmental organizations in my region have branched into action research, which are giving academics like myself a run for our money.

The sum total of my socially-conscious engagements typify that of a materially-comfortable, educated and childless middle class woman; they include participating in a book drive, providing support to a parish feeding program for children, and extending assistance and advice to those looking for scholarships and grants. Career-wise, my template follows Western standards: publish in peer-reviewed journals, attend professional conferences, apply for competitive grants and fellowships, write policy-relevant pieces. However, it has taken me almost a decade to realize I have done so little in terms of giving back.

I resolve from hereon to know more about my city and region, and to look for meaningful engagements for which I am able to marry my scholarship and social commitments. Where one is surrounded by harsh realities of poverty and marginalization, it is unconscionable to see the academic profession as an ivory tower of learning. I will get out, get connected and go local.

This post was also published in Inside Higher Ed.

Rosalie Arcala Hall, writing from Iloilo in the Philippines.

On my way back from Bandung, Indonesia, I received two messages which set me hollering in joy in the crowded departure lounge of the Manila airport. A young colleague was awarded a Fulbright grant for a PhD in the US; two others were short-listed for Fulbright research grants in agriculture. What really touched me were the effusive thanks on their part for my encouraging them to apply and for believing in their competitiveness as applicants. Prior to that, a former thesis advisee had sent me an email thanking me for landing a job at a University in Mindanao. He had met the department chair at the Political Science conference where he presented a paper and for which he received travel assistance from me and my husband.

These messages made me reflect about how much (or how little, in my reckoning) I have done for others throughout my academic career. The university is full of newbies eager to receive guidance and guideposts from those who have been-there-done-that on a myriad of decisions: choosing the right graduate program to get into, working on a thesis or dissertation, preparing research proposals or publishing peer-reviewed articles. Unfortunately, not all called to academic life are organically cut out for mentoring. In an environment where one has to jostle for lucrative grants and consultancies, to mentor means to create a potential competitor. In some Manila-based universities where professors are so busy juggling multiple “moonlighting” activities, there simply is no time to nurture budding scholars along the lines demanded by mentorship.

I have had no mentor in the full sense of the word, but my whole academic career is a story of the boundless generosity of individuals who believed in my potential. There were Dr. Nemenzo and Dr. Caoili, Political Science professors who overlooked my ripped jeans and t-shirts with leftist messages to get me into teaching, with only a promise that I would hold my law degree ambitions in abeyance. Colleagues Lisa Baliao, Rose Asong and Luz Rodriguez initiated me to the joys of field-based research across rivers, on mountain tops, in crowded jeepneys or habal-habal (single motorbike carrying at least 9 passengers). Dr. Siason, my former Division chair pushed me to apply for a Fulbright fellowship when but a handful have ever been awarded at my University. I became a better writer and record-time PhD-holder through Bill Crotty, Suzanne Ogden and Chris Bosso. From Temy Rivera, Carol Hernandez and Jojo Abinales, Filipino scholars whose international successes inspire career templates, I have received good introductions which enabled me to do interviews, deliver lectures and make hosting arrangements in Japan and the US.

I did not set out to mentor; it just happened and was relatively easy to do. I have written so many personalized recommendation letters to colleagues and students applying for school admission or jobs. I recruited colleagues to apply for Fulbright and other competitive international grants I have previously received. I coached young faculty members to be bolder in connecting with foreign professors, to submit to ISI journal outlets, and to dream big and believe in the superiority of their achievements even if coming from the Philippine periphery. Upon assuming the Division chairmanship, I have carried out workshops and writing workshops for journal article and research proposal preparation. I have sat down with colleagues to figure out graduate school options in the Philippines and abroad. I have also wrestled with University administrators for faculty tenure and renewal of appointments and explored funding options for those attending professional conferences. I celebrate colleagues publishing an article, releasing a book, winning an award by writing about them in the University website and newsletter.

Paying small acts of kindness forward bears surprising psychic rewards.

This post was also published at Inside Higher Ed.

Rosalie Arcala Hall, writing from Iloilo, Philippines

In the hustle and grind of academic life, there are those who are contented with their tenure position and just “teach and go.” Others labor under pressure to research and publish, churning in proposals, reports and manuscripts for the elusive promotion and recognition in their discipline. A few rise above these professional or livelihood imperatives to nurture and strengthen the University’s sense of community. They are problem solvers, social capital builders and serve as an overall repository of institutional memories. Their achievements often defy standard metrics for academic performance, but bring attention to core values of what the University as a social entity exists for.

We are a university strongly rooted in the local scene. Our students come mostly from the Western Visayas region or Ilonggo-speaking enclaves in Mindanao and from predominantly poor to middle class families. A large proportion of our students receive full or partial benefits under the University’s socialized tuition and financial assistance scheme. A good number are from fishing, farming or informal sector working families who could not afford to pay for their child’s board and dorm fees on a semester basis. Our graduates supply the region’s elite workforce: bank managers, lawyers, doctors, social and business entrepreneurs, government heads and local chief executives (as well as a handful of Communist rebels). Our 68-year presence is entwined with Iloilo City’s cultural legacy- from our American colonial-era buildings, to our collection of important works by local artists, to the wealth of our local history archives and academic studies on minorities (Sulod-non, Atis) and the marginalized.

There are three people (all academics), Lisa Baliao, Gilma Tayo and the late Henry Funtecha who exemplify the importance of grounding academic work where it matters most: to our community of students, staff, alumni and the city/town folks. Lisa, a dyed-in-the-wool UP maroon from high school onwards, leads the Alumni Office which for the past 3 years has raised more money, ran more alumni events (breakfasts, lunches, dinners, film screenings, cocktails, you name it) and has singlehandedly padded the donor list for university scholarships and grants. Her latest coup was raising in a year’s time most of the US$40,000 needed for a school bus. She has an enviable memorized Rolodex of her students from the past 30 years and their whereabouts; she is a great teacher, mentor and friend to many of these students who today when personally called upon, would instantly shell out or wire a $100 donation to Lisa. She’s indefatigable and a pillar of the University’s external engagements.

Gilma organized the UP Leaders in Food Trust in 2006, which provides “discreet” meal subsidies ($25-$50 a month) and food-for-work arrangements with the cafeteria to very poor University students. Because of delays in the University-provided allowance or their salaries as work assistants, we have quite a number of students who literally can’t afford to eat 3 square meals a day or merely subsist on a diet of US$0.10 noodles or can of sardines. Gilma independently fund raised by tapping UPV alumni in the US; UPLIFT eventually assisted about 2 dozen students, half of them already graduated and one dropout. They have a longer list of potential beneficiaries (which they document through rigorous interviews with classmates) but couldn’t accommodate all given donation shortfalls. She plans on building a soup kitchen to cut down cost and crafting a student-sponsorship scheme among better placed (income-wise) faculty members.

The late Sir Henry was a genuine scholar and a public intellectual. He pioneered groundbreaking research on the city’s local history; he ran a column in a local daily; he was a mainstay in many local radio programs dealing with everything from cuisine or arts and crafts to festivals; in addition, he authored readable and popular college History textbooks. At the helm of the University’s Center for West Visayan Studies, he brought local artisans to demonstrate and sell their crafts under the Living Museum and organized heritage-centered conferences that brought together government officials, business operators and academics in one table. Under his mentor-ship, students and colleagues grew to know, love and be proud of Iloilo.

These three peoples’ careers are not summed up by their respective degrees or academic rank. Their passion and dedicated investment to community-strengthening is humbling, particularly since they received little or no monetary reward for this type of service. Theirs is a skill set which is not recognized under a system obsessed with only rewarding those who publish in peer-reviewed and ISI outlets, yet they supply the very lifeblood of the University by making available extra resources in this era of declining budgets, enabling students to finish their degrees and cementing the University’s place in the larger society. They provide an alternative template of what it means to be an academic.