… but can’t be arsed to insert its name into the email template
How it started
It’s no secret that Mainz is a carnival hot spot. Shrove Monday, the day of the biggest parade and the most frantic celebrations, is a de facto public holiday in the city. But the de facto bit is important here: the city can’t make it a proper holiday, yet nobody who can possibly avoid it is working, so (collective) bargaining is important in a very practical sense.
At Mainz U, the workers’ representatives and the leadership must have come to an Agreement shortly after the war: on Shrove Monday, food outlets, libraries, departments, and central offices always were and always will be officially geschlossen, but there is a price. Until some years ago, we used to get reminders (on the back of our payslips) of the Arrangement: during an (extended) period of Lent, employees were supposed to work exactly 12 extra minutes per day to make up for the lost Monday. 17 minutes if you happened to be a Beamter (because of the slightly longer working week).
How it is going
Academics (who can work almost everywhere, have their own keys to the building, and are not known for their great sense of humour) used to laugh about it. Some even came in on Shrove Monday (if they could get past the hordes of drunk revellers filling the streets). But for the admin staff and even more so for the porters, janitors, or lab technicians, whose schedules were even more rigid than they are today, the Arrangement must have been a real achievement.
In the many years since the Arrangement was reached, working time has become more flexible for all employees. The 12-minutes-per-day rule was quietly dropped in accordance with that. Even working from home, an elusive privilege for many, has become the new normal, thanks to the pandemic.
And so you might think that the Arrangement, which decades ago brought some flexibility, could be handled in a flexible way this year. After all, there were no celebrations, hence no social pressure to be anywhere in particular.
But you would be very wrong. Just in time, the leadership reminded us that JGU observes Shrove Monday, and working from home is verboten on this very special day (which, in the absence of a parade or other distractions, had severe personal consequences for me). Explaining how this makes perfect sense from a bureaucratic/neo-corporatist point of view (I think it does) is left as an exercise to the reader.
The proceedings were particularly difficult because a lengthy internal memo by the chair of the PhD board that condemned the thesis had been leaked to the press. Moreover, the faculty was criticised for relying too much on the opinion of said chair, who – unlike Schavan – is not an educationist, and for not bringing in external experts. Today, a prominent member of Schavan’s party deemed the university’s ruling “preliminary” (because Schavan can and will take the university to court) and “inappropriate” (because scientists are apparently not competent to make judgements on plagiarism). Such statements show how much respect politicians hold for science <irony off>.
The university, on the other hand, kept its cool and put a legal opinion (in German) on its website, which states that they have done more or less the right thing. It’s a long read, but very instructive for academics who might find themselves in a similar pickle as those poor souls at Düsseldorf.
While the memo itself is not (officially) public, the website which brought the matter to the attention of the public is still online. From what I have seen, I get the impression that the author did indeed intend to plagiarise in more than a few instances. Schavan’s lawyers will challenge this opinion, but it will be more than a few months before a court rules on the matter, so the more immediate question is: Can she cling on to her job?
While the chancellor “trusts” Schavan, and while she still has the support of many in her party, the FDP has started making funny noises, and the opposition is calling on Schavan to step down. The minister will soon return from a trip to South Africa and is booked for a chat with Merkel on Friday. The smart money is on a resignation on Monday: It’s difficult to conceive of a federal Education minister whose Alma Mater deems her a fraud. Given the ever more prominent role in the funding of universities that the federation has played in recent years, this will not work.
The wider question is of course why so many German politicians pursue doctorates, sometimes with dubious means. If/when she resigns, Shavan will be the second cabinet minister Merkel loses over a plagiarised PhD (the first being former defence minister zu Guttenberg). Other casualties include Silvana Koch-Mehrin and Jorgo Chatzimarkakis (both FDP and members of the EP), and various politicians working at the Länder-level.
The simple answer to that question is that a PhD – any PhD – furthers their career. In some branches of the public administration (as well as in some research-driven companies), a doctorate is a pre-requisite for managerial positions – sometimes rightfully so, sometimes not. More generally, Germans see academic titles as a (poor) substitute for the aristocratic titles that we abolished in 1919. Many believe (erroneously) that the doctorate becomes part of a person’s name. Heck, they probably think it becomes hereditary. And so we are stuck with a considerable number of mediocre students who have neither talent nor temperament for serious research but long for academic ennoblement. We should therefore be much more selective in admitting PhD students.