Tuesday, 17 June 2008

Ch-ch-ch- changes

Today I wrote one of the mst difficult letters (e-mails) of my life. A few months ago a leading publishing house invited me (a propos de rien) to submit a proposal for a book (on organic farming –OF). I was deeply, deeply flattered. It was something I had been looking for for seven years or more. But I was also quite perturbed, it would mean a lot of (almost certainly unpaid) solitary work behind a PC and in libraries, unless I could rustle up some substantial funding from somewhere (and I found my track record with funding proposals to be less than re-assuring).

So I have prevaricated for the past several months (probably much to the annoyance of said acquisitions editor – my apologies). Several times I have told friends that I am going to turn the offer down. On other occasions I have sought to enlist the interest of potential co-contributors. Confusion reigned in my head - mostly about what I want to do with my life and how I can create value with it.

One of the main reasons I came to the NL some six years was with the idea of furthering my career as an advocate /researcher for OF in meeting development objectives in the South. The NL (and particularly Wageningen) seemed to offer larger and much more accessible networks for doing this than I was able to access in the UK. The topic is (and remains) an issue that I am passionate about. For the first 2-3 years of my time in the NL being involved in OF research remained an elusive but seemingly attainable goal, providing something like 25-30% of my work / income. The remainder (albeit the majority) I regarded as a platform for building on this work, much as an aspiring actor waits on tables whle waiting for his break..

Over time the balance shifted. I stated to feel exploited in my OF research. The OF projects were always too short – too geared toward justifying some institutional position and always grossly under-funded. It felt like I was always doing good will work at below market rates to secure a good reputation. Time and time again. In the meantime I began to find out how marketable my English language skills were. I started to find myself in the enviable position of people beating a path to my door to offer me work. That’s never happened to me before. I like being in demand. It changed my sense of self worth. Over time, I rented an office space to separate my work from home life, took a company name and a separate business bank account.

The transition from being a researcher to an entrepreneurial language worker was a slow one and involved an almost indiscernible shift in internal and external priorities. Today feels like a watershed. I feel I have made a definitive shift from one camp to the other. Three years ago I would have been prepared to chain myself to a computer for 500-1000 hours over the next year to eighteen months to have a free hand to write a book that might change people’s perceptions about the potential of OF in meeting the development needs of Southern countries. Partly I would have been motivated by a sense of the nobility of being a researcher. My ego would also have played a role: being published, cited, being invited to conferences etc. Nowadays I have become much more instrumental – that doesn’t mean more cynical or less idealistic. I simply want to spend less of my time toiling behind a computer.

Tonight I am asking myself whether my six years in the Netherlands has turned me from an idealist into a pragmatist? And if so, is that a good or a bad thing? Will I regret turning the opportunity to try to change the global development agenda through writing (yet another) book? Or would the personal (opportunity) cost have been too high? If writing and thinking are not the best ways for me to effect change in the world then where can I direct my focus so as to be a force for good?

For the next few days (or maybe even weeks) I am going to have to work hard in grappling with these questions. Even more so I have to embrace my decision – and its implications- rather than regret it. People say that when one door closes another one opens. I’ve generally found that to be true – but every time one closes a door without seeing further down the corridor it involves a big leap of faith. This time more than most.

5 comments:

Dave Hampton said...

'really an interesting note; I can tell that you've struggled to sort this one through. I'm curious about how underfunded the offers have been for your expertise and for the book: 10% of what you think it should have been, 50%, 90%? Is it underfunded in the sense of not paying for your time and effort, or undervaluing the results?

I had a long conversation last year with a friend who had developed a new visualization tool, and was trying to figure out how to get his ideas in front of a larger community. We decided that he had three alternatives.

He could treat it as art: this was something that he created for himself because he felt passionately about the idea, and he could simply exhibit the results without thinking about compensation.

He could treat it as education: he could evangelize the idea, give occasional lectures at schools and professional organizations, take on commissions, and support others who wanted to spred his ideas. The compensation wouldn't be huge, but it would give him a way to promote and develop his ideas and his name in association with the concepts.

Finally, he could treat it as a business. That involved developing his ideas into a product, service, or consultancy, running it in a profitable way, seeking and supporting customers, and protecting his intellectual property assets.

It seems like you may be in a similar position with regard to OF: what would you want to see it develop into, what is possible in a practical sense, and how much effort do you want to put into it? Certainly you have passion and expertise in the field, and I think you should stay engaged with it. But to what end, and with how much investment of time and expense?

...and I don't think you've become a complete pragmatist :)

Textual Healer said...

For your friend I guess it depends how hard he wants to play ball. Is he cut out to make a business of it or is he happy with his life as it is? But he should protect his IPR if possible (though proving uniqueness is probably time consuming and expensive and may involve too many transaction costs). But if he does he can always grant use rights to anyone he feels sympathetic to or wants to co-operate with.

Anonymous said...

A thoughtful and interesting post Nick. I don't know why 'pragmatist' should have negative connotations, but anyway I don't think you're being more pragmatic. You've just arrived at a different idea of what you want to do with your time and energy.

I think that's quite a normal mid-life thing to do. When we're young we want to make our mark on the world. In middle age, we care more about the quality of our daily lives. Or something.

Well done for making the decision, I'm sure it was the right thing and some interesting doors will open.

Three posts in a day! What a treat for your readers!

Dave Hampton said...

He decided on the second option: he wanted to be associated with it and to evangelize it, but didn't want to try to make a business out of it. He already had one successful startup behind him, and had enough money that he didn't feel like he needed to.

Textual Healer said...

Middle-aged? Moi? I am feeling younger (and more attractive) every day (except for those days that follow the nights when I forgot to cork the bottle before it became empty).
Seriously - turning down this offer meant turning my back on some aspects of how I measure my value. I haven't quite decided what alternative measures to use. How much money I make is not a good measure. Maybe how much customer satisfaction I generate is better- although that is a bit intangible. It is hard in materialistic societies (and which ones aren't?) not to get caught up in the trap of valuing yourself according your postcode, how expensive your car is or where you went on holiday. Academia does offer an alternative- merit rather than money based - value system. Bt it is till highly structured and doesn't necessarily reflect merit.

I can't describe the buzz that I once got from meeting a French student on a placement in West Africa who said "You are the Nick P"). We (read I) crave recognition. Perhaps maturing (note the avoidance of the use of the term aging) involves accepting that it can come in far more subtle ways.

Dave - glad that your friend found a way forward that matched his ambitions.
Sara - glad you enjoyed reading three posts in a day. Guess if there was still someone special and intelligent to share my life with then you lucky readers wouldn't be exposed to nearly as much detail about my life.