Abstract
This article emerged through ethnographic research into strike action at a UK university. It provides three insights. First, it adds to the literature linking humour to resistance that has largely focused on subterranean, disguised, hidden, camouflaged or decaf opposition. The resistant humour explored in this case is more diverse and challenges extant distinctions because it was overt and covert, individual and collective, decaf and ‘real’. Second, it posits that during strike action the already ambiguous distinction between humour and seriousness becomes even more blurred. Third, it contributes to our understanding of power-resistance relations through introducing the term solidaristic humour which conveys a neglected expression of opposition that reflects and seeks to galvanize solidarity.
Introduction
The role of workplace humour is complex (see Collinson, 1988, 2002; Gabriel, 1995; Rodrigues & Collinson, 1995; Westwood, 2004; Westwood & Johnston, 2012). It has been explored in relation to inter-group bonding (Holmes & Marra, 2002; Linstead, 1985; Roy, 1958), ‘social control’ (Fine & DeSoucey, 2005, p. 11; Mulkay & Howe, 1994, p. 481), as a ‘management tool’ (Romero & Cruthirds, 2006, p. 58) and as oppositional (Collinson, 1988, 1992, 2002; Holmes & Marra, 2002; Korzynski, 2011; Linstead, 1985; Rodrigues & Collinson, 1995; Taylor & Bain, 2003). The latter, described as ‘a worker resistance approach’ (Butler, 2013, p. 2), is the focus of this article and it reflects that humour has ‘become an important part of the repertoire of resistance practices’ (Mumby, Thomas, Martí, & Seidl, 2017, p. 3).
Humour is understood as ‘everything that causes amusement, from a joke, story, play, skit, movie or book, to a way of acting or a slogan in a demonstration. It can be based on irony, satire, parody, or ridicule’ (Sorensen, 2008, p. 170). It is known that humour can have a ‘serious impact’ (Linstead, 1985, p. 743), ‘serious import’ (Emerson, 1969, p. 169; Mulkay, 1988, p. 209) and may be used by managers to convey a ‘serious message’ (Collinson, 2002, p. 270). Moreover, humour has been connected to ‘serious tasks’ (Mulkay, 1988, p. 217) and ‘serious activity’ (Mulkay & Howe, 1994, p. 481) such as economics, entertainment, political struggle (Sorensen, 2008), union recognition (Taylor & Bain, 2003) and even survival (Frankl, 1959).
Through ethnographic research into academic strike action, this article explores this serious understanding of humour and introduces the term solidaristic humour. 1 It considers how humour may be used to express opposition while reflecting and seeking to forge solidarity and, in this way, tear at the tapestry of management authority. In contrast to other accounts (e.g. Benton, 1988; Emerson, 1969; Handelman & Kapferer, 1972; Meyer, 1997; Radcliffe-Brown, 1952; Romero & Cruthirds, 2006; Rosen, 1988), the humour was not good-natured, playful or friendly. In this sense, it was not ambiguous, for it unambiguously displayed contempt for management. The already blurred line between humour and seriousness therefore becomes even more opaque.
In everyday organizational relations, it has been argued that humour may be ‘unreal’ (Raskin, 1985), ‘does not “count”’, (Emerson, 1969, p. 169) and ‘is not meant seriously’ (Radcliffe-Brown, 1952, p. 91). Scholars refer to the ‘apparent incapacity’ of humour ‘to change organizations’ (Linstead, 1985, p. 762) and to how humour ‘maintains’ (Mulkay, 1988, p. 5) or ‘reinforces the existing social structure’ (Noon & Blyton, 2002, p. 249). It is seen as ‘a practice that both resists the social order and serves to reproduce it’ (Korzynski, 2011, p. 1438). According to Contu (2008, p. 364), ‘underground’ forms of resistance such as humour are ‘too often a decaf resistance’ because they ‘inherently guarantee’ our ‘way of life’ rather than being ‘real’ or a means to ‘disturb or disrupt it’ (Contu, 2008, p. 370). In a context of strike action, however, humour’s lack of seriousness, unreality or disruptiveness can be questioned.
The main questions this article explores are what role can humour play in expressing collective opposition; how does it voice and seek to galvanize solidarity; does it merely maintain extant power relations or can it change, disturb or disrupt them? The central contribution is an empirical exploration of solidaristic humour that questions distinctions such as ‘decaf’ versus ‘real’ resistance (Contu, 2008); ‘quiescence’ versus ‘resistance’ (Bowes-Catton et al., 2020); and the ‘humorous’ versus the ‘serious’ (Emerson, 1969; Mulkay, 1988; Radcliffe-Brown, 1952; Raskin, 1985). The aim is to advance our understanding of the complexity, ambiguity and uncertainty of resistance.
The article is organized as follows: the next section discusses the literature on humour and resistance. The changing context of academia is then explored before explaining the ethnographic research methods. Ethnographic data is subsequently presented and finally the main insights of the article are drawn out in a discussion and conclusion.
Humour and Resistance at Work
Humour has been examined in relation to working-class shopfloor cultures (Beynon, 1973; Korzynski, 2011; Taylor & Bain, 2003). These accounts present humour as an everyday occurrence and a coping strategy ‘to defeat boredom and fear, to overcome hardship and problems’ (Willis, 1977, p. 29; see also Roy, 1958). It has been observed that shop stewards may handle problems ‘through humour’ (Beynon, 1973, p. 121) and how shopfloor employees use humour to mock management during ongoing, everyday factory life (Collinson, 1988, 1992). Instead of focusing on ‘low-skill, routinized’ (Korzynski, 2011, p. 1422) or working-class occupations (Sanson & Courpasson, 2022), this article investigates the resistant humour of middle-class academics.
Rodrigues and Collinson (1995, p. 739) posited ‘that humour may’ express ‘employee dissatisfaction especially where more overt forms of resistance might provoke managerial reprisals’ (emphasis added). Redolent of ‘decaf’ (Contu, 2008), ‘everyday’ (Scott, 1985), ‘inconspicuous’ (Thomas & Davies, 2005, p. 686), ‘less visible’ (Prasad & Prasad, 1998, p. 228), ‘unobtrusive’ (Scott, 1990, p. 184), ‘hidden’ (Scott, 1990, p. 25) or what Mumby (2005, p. 29) calls ‘interstitial’ resistance, they link humour to ‘subtle’, ‘disguised’ or camouflaged ‘dissent’ (Rodrigues & Collinson, 1995, p. 740; see also Collinson, 2002, p. 272). By contrast, this article examines the humour that can arise when everyday organizational relations partly break down during strike action. In such instances, humour may be ‘subterranean’ (Fleming & Spicer, 2007, p. 65; Taylor & Bain, 2003, p. 1507) and ‘subtle’ (Ackroyd & Thompson, 1999, p. 63) but also overt and blunt (Sanson & Courpasson, 2022, p. 1710).
Scott (1985) distinguished ‘formal, overt’ or ‘open, collective defiance’ (Scott, 1990, p. 86) from ‘everyday forms of resistance’ (Scott, 1985, p. 33). Everyday resistance fits with how resistant humour has largely been discussed in the literature as it refers to ‘individual acts’, which ‘require little or no coordination or planning’ (Scott, 1985, p. xvi), that are ‘informal, often covert’ (Scott, 1985, p. 33). Solidaristic humour transcends such ‘mutually exclusive’ (Fleming & Spicer, 2007, p. 60) distinctions and extends Scott’s (1985, 1990) analysis as he paid little attention to humour. Scott (1985) questioned the exclusion of everyday resistance ‘from the category of real resistance’ (Scott, 1985, p. 295) because banal acts may not have banal consequences and collective/revolutionary struggles are constituted through banal acts (Scott, 1985, p. 301). An analysis of solidaristic humour can therefore contribute to such arguments.
Solidarity has been defined as ‘the feeling of reciprocal sympathy and responsibility among members of a group which promotes mutual support’ (Wilde, 2007, p. 171). Although there are a few exceptions (McCabe, 2019; Marsh & Śliwa, 2022; Sanson & Courpasson, 2022), humour has often been neglected in relation to solidarity (e.g. Atzeni, 2009; Bowes-Catton et al., 2020; Daskalaki & Kokkinidis, 2017; McCann, Granter, Hyde, & Aroles, 2020; Routledge & Driscoll Derickson, 2015; Simms, 2011). This might reflect the ‘personal, emotional and physical’ costs of solidarity (McBride, Stirling, & Winter, 2013, p. 244). Humour has been found to support managerial authority and internal group solidarity (Holmes & Marra, 2002); however, solidaristic humour is ‘subversive’ and not entirely ‘distancing humour’ (Holmes & Marra, 2002, p. 82) because it endeavours to engage others and is engaged in opposition.
In contrast to established distinctions, solidaristic humour includes hidden, public, covert, overt, individual and collective resistance. It questions the distinction between ‘real’ versus ‘decaf’ (Contu, 2008) resistance because although solidaristic humour may reproduce the status quo and is therefore decaf, this does not mean that it is without ‘costs and risks’ (Contu, 2008, p. 367) both for those resisting and the resisted. Nor can it unequivocally be said that it ‘changes very little’ or ‘the subjects who live it’ (Contu, 2008, p. 367) because this needs to be assessed against the specific conditions and subjectivity of those resisting, for at the very least it resists the colonization of ‘selves’ (Fleming & Spicer, 2007, p. 88). Solidaristic humour is important because it can help us to understand endeavours to express and forge solidarity, thereby providing a novel contribution to recent attempts to ‘develop a collective activism of solidarity’ (Jones et al., 2020, p. 364) among academics. Before turning to the empirical study, the following section contextualizes the research by considering the literature on academics and academic resistance.
Academics in a Neoliberal Context: No Laughing Matter!
In academia, a new ‘performance paradigm’ (Davies & Bendix Petersen, 2005, p. 81) linked to neoliberalism has emerged. It denotes ‘a move from elite specialization with strong professional controls towards a “Fordist” mass production arrangement’ (Parker & Jary, 1995, p. 321). In the United Kingdom and elsewhere (see Alakavuklar, Dickson, & Stablein, 2017; Ryan, 2012; Weiners & Weber, 2020; Zawadzki & Jensen, 2020), this is manifest in the proliferation of metrics and ‘quantitative targets’ (Jones, 2018, p. 421) related to teaching (Teaching Excellence Framework) and research (Research Excellence Framework). These disciplinary mechanisms promote individualization (see De Vita & Case, 2016, p. 358) whereby ‘it is every person for himself or herself’ (Kalfa, Wilkinson, & Gollan, 2017, p. 287). In the UK, university funding has shifted from central government to students – redefining them as consumers or customers. Education has become a ‘product’ and universities are assessed according to their capacity to deliver ‘employability’ (Butler, Delaney, & Śliwa, 2017, p. 468). Jobs or ‘marketable skills’ (Mumby et al., 2017, p. 4), not thinking, knowledge or the pursuit of what we could be as human beings, are elevated. The market, not ‘knowledge-for-knowledge’s sake’ (De Vita & Case, 2016, p. 349) becomes the raison d’être for university life ‘in which private clients purchase private goods for private benefit’ (Marginson, 2002, p. 19; quoted in Davies & Bendix Petersen, 2005, p. 77).
Academics are subject to new and intense pressures but they are ‘neither passive recipients, nor fully compliant’ (Alakavuklar et al., 2017, p. 456). Discipline (Foucault, 1977) operates through government, management, bureaucrats and students (Fleming, 2020). Academics also discipline ‘themselves’ (Alakavuklar et al., 2017, p. 458) and each other (Jones et al., 2020, p. 372) as they (we) embrace the ‘target-setting mindset’ (Jones, 2018, p. 426). This gives rise to contradictions whereby universities detached from their intellectual mooring sail towards the market defined by the needs of consumers (well-paid jobs that cannot be guaranteed) in a context of competition (job insecurity) and scarce resources (work intensification) that may well hinder the needs of consumers (e.g. stressed staff, mass depersonalized education). The market is equated with efficiency and yet ‘the greatest paradox of the managerialist ideology’ (De Vita & Case, 2016, p. 354) is the unmeasured, uncosted, unproductive, bureaucratic effort that goes into ‘auditing and reporting’ (Davies & Bendix Petersen, 2005, p. 88) in order to satisfy the ‘measurement madness’ (Ryan, 2012, p. 5).
It has been argued that academics respond to such pressures through ‘careering’ (Clarke & Knights, 2015, p. 1865), ‘exit’ (Parker, 2014, p. 282) or a ‘mercenary mentality’ (Rintamäki & Alvesson, 2022). Knights and Clarke (2014, p. 350) found ‘little evidence’ in their study ‘that any solidarity or collective resistance could potentially result from academics’ struggles against these managerialist regimes’. Individualistic resistance in academia has attracted criticism as it serves ‘to ameliorate – rather than overthrow – managerialism’ (Anderson, 2008, p. 267). In the Australian academy, ‘findings show that vocal resistance was sparse with silence, neglect and exit being the more realistic options’ (Kalfa et al., 2017, p. 274) or ‘zombiefication as a form of passive resistance and survival’ (Ryan, 2012, p. 3). Indeed, ‘rather than collective academic critique and resistance’, Davies and Bendix Petersen (2005, p. 80) identified ‘disillusioned and distressed individuals’ and likewise De Vita and Case (2016, p. 358) assert that ‘withdrawal has become a prevalent personal coping strategy’.
Recently, studies have examined collective forms of academic resistance (see Bowes-Catton et al., 2020; Jones, 2018; McCabe, 2019; McCann et al., 2020), which help to counter arguments that when academics ‘do resist, they do so on an individual level’ (Kalfa et al., 2017, p. 277). Nevertheless, humour has not been considered in relation to such resistance. A focus on humour can help to elucidate the acts, subjectivities and means to foster solidarity that would be needed across the sector to combat and roll back ‘managerialist imperatives’ (Kalfa et al., 2017, p. 275). Yet this is extremely difficult in a context of ‘fragile and insecure academic selves’ (Knights & Clarke, 2014, p. 337). Solidaristic humour could nonetheless contribute to ameliorating and counteracting such insecurity as part of ‘the stubborn bedrock upon which other forms of resistance may grow’ (Scott, 1985, p. 273), for laughing together can help to forge social bonds and combat fear.
Jones et al (2020, p. 372) outline the ‘dual nature of academic compliance and complicity versus a collective resistance’. These are not either/or positions, however, and so there is a need to understand the ambiguity and ‘nuance’ (Alakavuklar et al., 2017, p. 461) of resisting. Many academics are too afraid/insecure or individualized to resist collectively, irrespective of their suffering and/or the suffering of others. This ‘quiescence’ (Bowes-Catton et al., 2020, p. 380) partly reflects that academia offers both attractive and poor work conditions (see Butler et al., 2017, p. 473; Ratle, Robinson, Bristow, & Kerr, 2020; Weiners & Weber, 2020; Zawadzki & Jensen, 2020). The ‘proliferating culture of audit, accountability and performativity’ can be understood as the forge in which ‘insecurities’ swirl, partly resulting ‘from the continuous subjection of academics to the judgements of others’ (Knights & Clarke, 2014, pp. 351–352). The experience is, however, ambivalent (‘suffering and pleasure’ (Alakavuklar et al., 2017, p. 461), ‘love’ and ‘loathing’ (Alvesson & Spicer, 2016, p. 30)) and uneven within and between institutions. This article explores how solidaristic humour can contribute to expressing opposition in multiple ways, but humour alone cannot combat ‘individualization’ (Foucault, 1977).
Ethnographic Research Methods
The research adopted an ethnographic approach which aims to understand culture. It involved learning what organizing resistance and fostering solidarity mean. In relation to field observations, Gold (1958, p. 221) refers to the danger of ‘going native’ whereby one begins ‘to lose his (sic) research perspective’. This is considered problematic because one simply accepts the ‘informant’s views’ (Gold, 1958, p. 222) and yet the division between objective outsider and subjective insider is problematic because ‘ethnographic life is not separable from the self’ (Richardson, 2000, p. 253). Hence, through ethnographic research, one attempts to immerse oneself in the world of others but one is simultaneously watching, listening, writing, learning, experiencing and sharing it. The research began after a strategy of restructuring and redundancies was announced. As an insider, one could avoid being seen as a spy (Grugalis, 2002, p. 391) at least by those resisting. Nevertheless, a sense of liminality arose because, at times, one felt like a parasite feeding on misery and so could not record events. At others, one simply could not step back to write notes because the experience was too immediate, one was living events that demanded too much attention.
I was struck by the humour that infused the resistance and by the camaraderie and solidarity that it expressed, reflected and sought to foster. This was evident during union Action Committee (AC) meetings and whenever staff met to discuss the dispute. It was lived in everyday corridor conversations that reflected both a gallows humour and a constant mockery of management. It was felt during protest rallies and a one-day strike. Nevertheless, it has to be recognized that ‘taken out’ of context, humour ‘usually ceases to be funny’ (Noon & Blyton, 2002, p. 246; see also Emerson, 1969, p. 172) and likewise readers may not experience the sense of solidarity it engendered. The humour reflected anxiety and was therefore a coping mechanism (Bradney, 1957; Collinson, 1988, 2002; Grugalis, 2002; Kahn, 1989; Linstead, 1985) but it was also a ‘weapon of resistance’ (Collinson, 2002, p. 270), wielded against management in spontaneous, (un)intended, individual and collective ways. It therefore had ‘multiple meanings’ (Mumby, 2005, p. 31) and served several purposes simultaneously (see Meyer, 1997, p. 190).
Data collection
The empirical material is drawn from strategy documents, the minutes of meetings, informal conversations, email correspondence, union newsletters and a diarized account of the dispute. The diarized account can be compared to field notes that recorded observations and reflections on significant events and everyday conversations, jokes, issues, experiences or passing exchanges. Data collection involved ‘complete participant’ (Gold, 1958, p. 217) observation during management-staff meetings and the ACs that were responsible for overseeing and organizing the industrial action. Observation requires one ‘to attend to what others are doing or saying and to what is going on around and about’ (Ingold, 2014, p. 389). It was possible to ‘collect data openly’ using ‘pen and notepad, recording conversations by writing quickly’ (Rosen, 1986, p. 67). Moreover, union rallies were observed and together these sources provided first-hand knowledge of the humour and the emergent sense of solidarity.
The author served on the AC and its 6 to 8 members represented unionized staff whose jobs were threatened by redundancy. Twenty-two AC meetings were observed, each of which lasted approximately one hour, which provided access to ‘the hidden transcript’ (Scott, 1990, p. 124) of those organizing and coordinating the resistance: in other words, the shared thoughts, experiences, criticisms, concerns, plans and humour that those resisting voiced covertly about management ‘behind their backs’ (Scott, 1985, p. 41). These observations occurred over 7 months between December 2009 and June 2010. Each member of the AC was expected to report back to their respective groups and so almost everyone took notes. Four management-staff meetings, 6 university-wide union meetings, 3 protest rallies and a 1-day strike were also observed.
Data analysis
Data was analysed in several stages. First, in the process of collecting data, notes were written that gave rise to themes as they were recorded and reflected upon. Second, the theme of humour became clearer through extracting all observations of humour that were recorded during the dispute. A detailed ‘fine-grained, line by line analysis’ (Emerson, Fretz, & Shaw, 1995, p. 160) followed that included reading union-compiled newsletters; diary extracts; emails; formal AC minutes and notes written during them; notes recorded during speeches made at union rallies and during management-staff meetings. The concern was to interrogate the meaning and purpose of the humour to elucidate its complexity.
Third, once identified, the theme of humour became sharper still through an iterative process that involved moving ‘back and forth between existing materials and my own research’ (Mills, 1959, p. 202). Hence the findings were contrasted with the literature that has largely focused on ‘subterranean’ (Taylor & Bain, 2003) or ‘disguised’ (Rodrigues & Collinson, 1995) humour. In some instances, the humour was covert or hidden, in others overt, collective or public. The uniqueness of the empirical setting allowed distinctive connections to be made because the humour was not ‘permitted’ (Radcliffe-Brown, 1952, p. 91), there was no ‘licence to joke’ (Handelman & Kapferer, 1972, p. 484) nor was it friendly (Grugalis, 2002) but rather more serious and antagonistic. Scholars have linked ‘humour’ to the ‘serious’ (Collinson, 2002; Emerson, 1969; Linstead, 1985; Mulkay & Howe, 1994; Sorensen, 2008; Taylor & Bain, 2003) but have not focused on strike action and yet such a focus illuminates that established distinctions are problematic.
The case study is organized as follows. In the first section, the university is introduced along with the background to the strike action. The management strategy is then explored paying attention to the formal discourse management employed and to the solidaristic humour that emerged in mockery of it. We then turn to the solidaristic humour that arose in relation to the informal discourse that management used during management-staff meetings. The next four sub-sections explore different settings where solidaristic humour arose that follow the arc of the dispute thereby illustrating its diversity, mutability, complexity, dynamics and ambiguity. This is significant because according to Fleming and Spicer (2007, p. 61) ‘to have a proper understanding of workplace struggle it is vital to consider how it unfolds, and what the temporal dynamics of engaging in struggle are’.
The Case Study
Greenshire University (pseudonym) is a medium-sized UK university. The majority of its trade union members are represented by the University and College Union (UCU), which is the UK’s largest union for academics and academic-related staff in higher and further education, representing around 80,000 members. In July 2009, the Vice Chancellor (VC) of Greenshire commissioned consultants (without the involvement or knowledge of frontline staff) to assess its business school, which included three large and two small departments. A report was produced that recommended restructuring the five departments into four, and compulsory redundancies for more than 50% of approximately 70 staff across four of the five departments.
The report referred to ‘a detailed assessment of the contribution of each member of academic staff’. It concluded that more than half have ‘an inappropriate skill set’ and ‘are at risk of displacement’. It listed the number of staff in each department whose skills ‘do not fit with the proposed structure’. The school had introduced new courses and increased student numbers over many years and yet the report attributed a recent fall in student applications to courses or ‘the current products on offer’ that were deemed ‘not attractive to current market demand’. Despite national disputes over pay, relations between management and staff were generally cordial and staff identification with Greenshire and the different departments was strong.
In December 2009, a new strategy was announced. The staff whose jobs were threatened met to discuss it and a sense of injustice was expressed, which contributed to the mobilization of resistance. Staff from all five departments, that had hitherto been divided, began to work together. Solidarity was aided by the Head of School (HoS), professors and the commitment of UCU leaders both from within and outside the school and also by individuals with experience of resistance.
The VC summoned staff by email to a meeting to communicate the strategy and a collective decision was made to boycott it. It was agreed that the HoS would initially speak on behalf of the staff at the meeting and explain that the consultant’s report was considered inaccurate. It would also be explained that an ‘alternative’ strategy would be produced by the staff. This reflected a ‘refusal’ (Fleming & Spicer, 2007, p. 32) to accept management’s definition of the situation, which Scott (1985) depicts as ‘everyday resistance’. It was far from individual or everyday, however, for instead of listening to the VC, in ‘an open declaration of defiance’ (Scott, 1990, p. 216), the staff collectively walked out before the VCs presentation began.
Atzeni (2009, p. 12) is correct that ‘there are no mechanical, predetermined movements from injustice to mobilization’ and solidarity was, at times, precarious, particularly within one department. Solidarity may not have occurred without the specific conditions and alignments described above and below. Nevertheless, solidarity was evident in that 80% of union members in the school voted to take strike action, and participation during protest rallies and a one-day strike was high across all departments.
At a subsequent meeting of union members, the local UCU representatives advised setting up an Action Committee (AC) with ‘volunteer leaders/representatives’ (observational notes, 14.12.09) from each department. It was recommended that the AC should ‘meet regularly’ as it would be ‘important to communicate’ and ‘distribute information through the union’. The rationale for setting up the AC was ‘experiences from past campaigns’. We can observe, therefore, that sharing ‘ideas, tactics and strategies’ can facilitate ‘solidarity’ (Routledge & Driscoll Derickson, 2015, p. 401). In contrast to ‘everyday resistance’, that requires ‘little coordination’ (Scott, 1985, p. 273), the AC was a vehicle for organizing collective resistance; monitoring and ensuring that action took place; voicing opposition; communicating and sharing information regarding the dispute as a means to foster and galvanize solidarity.
A vibrant new school
I recognise that change can be unsettling and would take this opportunity to reassure staff and students that the current proposals represent a commitment by the University to develop and retain a vibrant, competitive school. (email from VC to staff, December 2009) The consultation paper sets out the business case for change and a proposed structure . . . We believe there are issues to be addressed in relation to the performance of the School. We need to develop a successful vibrant school. (email to staff from Human Relations (HR) Director, December 2009)
In the above extracts, management drew on a neoliberal discourse of competition, business and performance. The strategy was formally framed in terms of the need to create a ‘vibrant school’ and this ‘official work discourse’ (Korzynki, 2011, p. 1434) or ‘public transcript’ (Scott, 1990, p. 4) was ridiculed by those resisting. In response to criticisms regarding the lack of consultation before the strategy was announced, the HR director stated in an email to staff: Council [the University’s highest governing body] reserves to itself the responsibility of setting the University strategy. . .. The present proposals. . .set a strategic direction to create a vibrant and successful school. . ..Following that decision in Council we are now in a period of consultation. (December 2009)
Although management denied that the form of change was fixed, the planned redundancies, restructuring and claim to have conducted a ‘detailed assessment’ of staff ‘skills’ indicated otherwise. In the above extract, the HR director presented Council’s authority as beyond challenge. It is this discourse and managerial authority that those resisting began to interrogate, resist and mock. Hence a senior member of staff, active in the resistance, sent an email to all staff in the school, which ended: So, irrespective of the outcome of the current dispute, those staff who are here clearly have ‘a vibrant and proactive work environment’ to look forward to. (February 2010)
To speak out and mock management’s discourse is to rip at the wings of authority. It displays and conveys opposition that can be understood as an attempt to bolster solidarity. The word ‘vibrant’ could not be used, even two years after the dispute, without unleashing laughter and this denotes solidarity in terms of a shared understanding of the world.
During the dispute, AC members produced union newsletters entitled A Vibrant Newsletter. It was an overt, formal means of expressing solidaristic humour that mocked management. The newsletters protected individuals through ‘the anonymity of their authorship’ (Scott, 1990, p. 170) while subverting the official management discourse. The word ‘vibrant’, which management used to reconstitute subjectivity around a ‘positive attitude’ towards change, was therefore taken up, ridiculed and rendered ‘negative’ (Hatch, 1997, p. 281). The following extract is from an email a professor copied to all staff: Vibrant is the word of the moment, it seems. But it can apparently mean three things. . .[including]. . .‘a vivacious folk dance’. . . I like the sound of the University as ‘a vivacious folk dance’ but more of the School as ‘a vibrant group that challenges the system’. (February 2010)
Solidaristic humour is perhaps more serious than when corporate comedians ‘play with and parody, the language of modern business’ (Westwood, 2004, p. 779) because it reflects that jobs, incomes and careers are threatened. It represents ‘small arms fire’ in ‘a cold war of symbols’ (Scott, 1985, p. 22) but, unlike ‘everyday’ resistance, it was not simply ‘individual’ or ‘hidden’ but part of ‘collective outright defiance’ (Scott, 1985, p. 29) reflecting that the ‘normal context’ (Scott, 1985, p. 27) had partly broken down.
It cannot be said that humour alone generates solidarity but it is a means to express it, a reflection of it and an attempt to galvanize others. It calls to others, and their laughter, amusement and participation are an engaged response to it. Solidaristic humour was only part of a spontaneous and organized attempt to articulate opposition and staff mobilized through participating in the industrial action. It reflected ‘playfulness’ (Alakavuklar et al., 2017, p. 465) and ‘enjoyment’ (Alakavuklar et al., 2017, p. 465) in resisting but also attempted to express and alleviate the anxiety, distress and ‘tension’ (Meyer, 1997, p. 189) provoked by redundancy and resisting.
A member of the AC summarized the dispute in an email to colleagues within her department and she shared this with other AC members. It sought to bolster her department’s solidarity and so it ‘reflected and reinforced a shared sense of self and a group identity’ but also ‘differentiation’ (Collinson, 1988, p. 1495) between those resisting: In early December 2009, the VC informed us that the School would be abolished and half of us were to be sacked. The decision was backed by an ill-founded document dubbed the ‘White Plan’ [Consultant’s report]. . . The White Plan proposed the removal of large parts of our current course provisions and the build-up of a ‘vibrant’ new school. (10 April 2010)
This email was sent nearly five months after management had first used the term vibrant but it ‘continued’ (Taylor & Bain, 2003, p. 1497) to be turned back on them. It reflects a ‘subjective refusal’ (Fleming & Spicer, 2007, p. 35) of the official discourse akin to waving a flag of opposition that nonetheless engaged creatively with it through ‘sending it up’ (Fleming & Spicer, 2007, p. 43). The reference to the ‘White Plan’ expresses mockery. Hence the name of the lead consultant was Mr. White [pseudonym] and so his name was ascribed to the report (The ‘White’ Plan). In this way, satire can be understood as keeping ‘dissent alive’ and ‘provides an alternative evaluation of official courses of action’ (Ackroyd & Thompson, 1999, p. 115), which is evident in another extract from this email: It became clear very quickly that much of the proposed redundancy process was untenable. Management had blundered on all fronts.
These satirical remarks express the ‘hidden transcript’ (Scott, 1990, p. 124) of the resistance for it presents management as incompetent and a source of scorn. It reflects the hurt and offence that the official or formal management discourse created. Hence the need to create a ‘vibrant’ school implies that 50% of the staff are moribund. Solidaristic humour provided ‘a means of distancing the unpleasant’ (Linstead, 1985, p. 745) situation that the staff found themselves in while lightening ‘the threat from management’ (Linstead, 1985, p. 756) but it also tore at ‘official platitudes’ (Scott, 1985, p. 319).
To summarize this section, Korzynski’s (2011, p. 1434) study of factory workers highlighted how ‘The mocking of hierarchy and official work discourse was a common form of humour on the shopfloor’. Similarly, solidaristic humour brought smiles, amusement, laughter and relief to those facing redundancy. It reflected the shared concerns, understanding and opposition, upon which solidarity stands. Solidaristic humour ‘invites laughter’ (Greatbatch & Clark, 2002, p. 17) at the ‘emptiness’ (Westwood, 2004, p. 780) of management’s ideas and stimulates ‘audience members to collectively empathise with’ the resistance (Greatbatch & Clark, 2002, p. 15).
The informal management discourse and solidaristic humour
This section builds on Korzynski’s (2011) study by distinguishing between the ‘official’ management discourse and an informal one observed during management-staff meetings. At a staff and senior manager meeting on 20 February 2010, management attempted to redefine the dispute as the past. A senior manager responded to a question by saying, ‘I’m not prepared to go back and revisit things we’re not going back to. We need to talk about the next steps to go forward.’ In this way, the new strategy was presented as a fait accompli and this manager repeatedly stated ‘We are where we are’. Dissent nevertheless continued but it was not ‘hidden’ like ‘everyday resistance’ (Scott, 1990, pp. 65–66). One individual asked about the ‘alternative’ strategy that had been submitted to senior management that, as elsewhere, was ‘ignored’ (McCann et al., 2020, p. 443). He asked why a consultant (Mr. White) and the HR director were providing feedback on it rather than the university:
We take one third of all students, this is going to impact on the whole university.
What would you prefer?
I’d prefer it wasn’t done in secret and we wouldn’t be at a stupid meeting.
Well, what’s done is done. We can’t revisit the past. We need to get the School into the best position possible but that won’t affect all of you. It will affect some of you.
There is mockery in the reference to a ‘stupid meeting’ and ‘secrecy’, which alluded to the initial lack of consultation. These comments express solidaristic humour as they are spoken for the collective and challenge management’s ‘role and status’ (Holmes & Marra, 2002, p. 76) by resisting their attempts to redefine the present thereby constituting ‘contradictory realities’ (see Hatch, 1997, p. 284).
After management left the meeting, the staff remained to discuss the situation and lampooned management. One member of staff stated that ‘The VC has got himself into bed with the Consultant’, which provoked laughter. Zijderveld (1983, p. 7) asserts that ‘joking invariably consists of playing with meaning’ and this informal staff gathering closed when a professor ‘parodied’ (Holmes & Marra, 2002, p. 78) the unofficial managerial discourse. He stood up to leave and, sighing, said ‘Well, we are where we are’, which prompted collective laughter. To laugh together at management indicates ‘affinity’ (Greatbatch & Clark, 2002, p. 11) and ‘serves as evidence of shared values’ (Meyer, 1997, p. 191) between the joker and the audience. To mock management’s words refuses their authority to define events. It was inspirational when individuals openly mocked management for it displayed courage and said that we cannot be cowed. Nevertheless, for the majority, resistance remained ‘a carefully hedged affair’ (Scott, 1985, p. 285) and the latter joke was ‘behind the back’ of management (Scott, 1985, p. 289). It created levity, however, in an otherwise stressful situation, allowing us to forget or soothe our fears, at least temporarily.
At a subsequent management-staff meeting, this discursive struggle continued. The same senior manager remained unwilling to discuss certain issues. Questions were nonetheless asked about a much-rumoured redundancy ‘list’ and this list can be understood as part of management’s ‘hidden transcript’ (Scott, 1990, p. 4). The consultant’s report claimed that there had been a ‘detailed’ skills ‘assessment’ that had identified the number of staff in each department whose skills ‘do not fit’ with the new strategy, which obviously necessitates a list:
I’ve never seen a list.
I’ve never seen a list.
[laughter]
You may laugh. . .this is not a way of going back to those lists.
To openly laugh at management denials, indicates that while resistance is bound up with anxiety it also involves ‘enjoyment’ (Alakavuklar et al., 2017, p. 465). This academic seemed to revel in challenging management and their denials, which were laughable in view of the consultant’s report.
The seriousness of this mockery and the collective significance of the list are evident in that another senior manager had been overheard talking about the dispute in a public space. His remarks (‘the offstage transcript of elites’ (Scott, 1990, p. 10)) were surreptitiously recorded and absorbed into the counter-discourse. He had referred to staff whom management wanted to make redundant, who presumably were on the denied redundancy list, as ‘deadwood’. This senior manager was subsequently mocked, at a university-wide union meeting on 30 May 2010, when he was referred to as ‘loose lips’. At an AC meeting on 6 May 2010, it was suggested that staff should attend protest meetings wearing badges saying ‘deadwood’. This solidaristic humour therefore takes senior management’s informal discourse and transforms it into a counter-discourse of defiance.
Solidaristic humour during a protest rally
We will now explore expressions of solidaristic humour during a protest rally that was organized for 31 January 2010 to coincide with the end of the ‘consultation’ period. It involved meeting on the university campus and marching to the VC’s office to deliver a protest letter: As I walked across campus I could see there was quite a gathering already. The activists were out and placards had been made which a number of colleagues brandished. There was an air of carnival and fun. A few jokes being exchanged and I felt pleased to see colleagues from my and associated groups. (diary extract)
The president of the local UCU ‘went to the top’ of nearby steps and announced ‘this is what I propose we do’, which was to march to the VC’s office and deliver the letter. Outside the VC’s office, the president then read the letter to approximately 200 people and was loudly applauded. A photographer from the local press took photos and ‘a male student with a placard in front of me kept kissing the girl next to him’ (diary). The president delivered the letter and we awaited the VC’s response. What would he say? Would he speak to us in person? Would he take questions? The president returned announcing that the VC was – ‘unavailable’, which prompted a huge laugh from the assembly. The rally had been well publicized and the VC was not on campus. Through assembling, marching, making and carrying placards, listening to speeches, applauding and laughing, those resisting participated in and displayed solidarity.
The assembly then walked back to the original meeting point and a number of speeches were made. The local UCU president spoke and sardonically described the consultants as ‘part-time carpet baggers’. He continued, ‘they want to sell different vegetables’, which lampooned neoliberalism. Similarly, a regional trade union official spoke and stated that ‘the whole sector has become obsessed with a commodification of education’. Solidaristic humour helped to express opposition as part of the glue that binds people together and these references to neoliberalism ‘universalise’ (Fleming & Spicer, 2007, p. 174) the issues involved. In this way, ‘local affairs’ were ‘considerably aggrandized’ (Myerhoff, 1977, p. 201) by giving them greater meaning, thereby forging ‘collective belonging’ (Myerhoff, 1977, p. 218).
The regional trade union official stated that he had come to show ‘solidarity with you’ and, rendering management incompetent, he continued in a mocking way, ‘It’s quite clear the hierarchy have taken a decision they believe to be correct that no one else does.’ A UCU member from another university that was also in dispute then spoke, stating, ‘I come in anger really but also to express full support’. She continued by referring to her employer:- ‘We have the vile distinction of having the worst university management,’ allowing a Greenshire UCU member to shout in pantomime response, ‘No, no, we have’, which indicates how humour and solidarity can work together.
Solidaristic humour and the ‘Vibrant’ newsletter
Solidaristic humour was expressed through the ‘Vibrant Newsletter’ and included serious ‘teasing’ that links to solidarity because it aims to ‘bolster or reassure one party [those resisting], at the expense of another [management]’ (Ackroyd & Thompson, 1999, p. 105). The academic hierarchy initially refused direct talks with union representatives, delegating this to a consultant and the HR director (Mr. White and Mrs. X). The ‘hidden transcript’ of resistance that ‘excludes the dominant’ (Scott, 1990, p. 118) mocked management competence and expressed antagonism ‘behind their backs’ (Scott, 1985, p. 41). The newsletters were initially part of this and one issue referred to the negotiations: We’re still obliged to deal with the two monkeys, Mr. White and Mrs. X, as no organ-grinders in the form of permanent senior officers of the University will come to the table. (13 February 2010)
It was not anticipated that management would read the newsletters but at an AC, a union representative stated that a meeting with management had been a ‘bit of a row’ because ‘management didn’t like the Newsletter’ and ‘were very, very upset about it’ (AC Notes, 25 February 2010). It has been argued that challenge ‘in the guise of jokes (even when thinly veiled)’ is ‘much more acceptable’ (Grugalis, 2002, p. 395) to those in authority. This clearly depends, however, upon the context and the joke. Hence this solidaristic humour was not regarded as ‘acceptable’ (Grugalis, 2002, p. 395) or ‘playful’ as it threatened ‘the serious realm’ (Emerson, 1969, p. 176) of management’s authority, status and legitimacy.
The dispute involved action short of a strike and staff refused to participate in weekend open days for the purposes of student recruitment. This withdrawal of goodwill resulted in management threatening to deduct 10% of salaries. Although this did not transpire, the Vibrant newsletter, which was written in a racy style, responded with a mocking headline ‘VC’s pay to be docked by 10%’ followed by ‘No, just kidding!’. (20 February 2010). This reflects ‘ironic humour’ because it means ‘the opposite of what is literally stated’ (Hatch, 1997, p. 277). Hence ‘No, just kidding!’ means precisely that this should happen. This ‘interpretative duality’ is said to distinguish ‘humour from serious discourse’ (Mulkay, 1988, p. 35) and yet it is serious.
During a one-day strike, university entrance sites were picketed, creating a traffic jam. Police officers arrived to restore traffic flow and video-recorded pickets. A picket photographed the police officer videoing him and the photo was emailed to AC members. It was included in the Vibrant newsletter (see Figure 1):
The caption draws on the comic persona Alan Partridge (whose catchphrase is ‘Knowing Me, Knowing You, A Ha!), created by the British actor and comedian Steve Coogan. It prompted the following diary entry: just got the email of the police officer videoing a member of staff as he photographed her. It is funny but, as if we don’t have enough threats and intimidation. Good to get funny emails though and to be writing this – cathartic! (22 February 2010)
As the above account indicates, solidaristic humour can comfort those resisting by providing ‘relief’ (Westwood, 2004) and reducing isolation.
Solidaristic humour during Action Committees (ACs)
A third setting in which to explore solidaristic humour relates to the ‘hidden transcript’ (Scott, 1990) expressed during AC meetings. At one meeting, it was said that ‘The university managers wanted to become HRM heroes, as the first to dare to make compulsory redundancies and offer individual severance terms’ (11 March 2010). This reference to ‘HRM heroes’ ridicules management reinforcing ‘workplace divisions’ (Collinson, 2002, p. 282). At an AC on 20 May 2010, a union representative explained that a meeting with management had begun through ‘talks about talks about talks’, which was greeted with laughter, ‘unifying one group in laughing at another’ (Meyer, 1997, p. 192). This mockery and shared disdain ascribed ‘superiority’ (Cooper, 2008, p. 1096) to those resisting while bolstering solidarity through presenting management as incompetent. The humour is serious as management was considered inept and unable or unwilling to grasp opportunities for reconciliation. Hence one individual referred to management failing to keep students and staff informed and another retorted ‘that’s because they don’t know what to do’. It was also remarked that ‘management wouldn’t know what an olive branch was if they swallowed one’. There were many instances of mocking banter:
We need to let them know about the carrots because they are not that subtle, need to be more obvious.
And the sticks.
We’ll hit them with the carrot first.
This solidaristic humour served several purposes. It ridicules management while elevating those taking industrial action. This alleviated stress and vented frustration. It fostered collective bonds between those organizing the strike action through discussing shared concerns and reaffirming antagonism. As management were not present, there was no need to hide ‘the serious intent of the humour’ (Emerson, 1969, p. 175) with the escape route of ‘I’m only joking.’
Solidaristic humour in the final throes
A final illustration of solidaristic humour emerged during management-staff meetings towards the end of the dispute. One individual was particularly caustic towards management and continually interrupted them. At one meeting, when a manager used his Christian name he remarked ‘I want to be called Mr. Jenkins or Dr. Jenkins because I’m not your friend’. This could be seen as ‘clowning’ which is ‘connected to the more serious purpose of undermining management’ (Taylor & Bain, 2003, p. 1503). Unlike ‘everyday resistance’ or the ‘hidden transcript’, this was overt ‘to his (sic) face’ (Scott, 1985, p. 25) mockery. Unlike ‘decaf’ resistance that ‘threatens’ nobody (Contu, 2008, p. 370), it unsettled management and a senior manager became flushed and proposed to leave or to ask Dr. Jenkins to leave if the interjections continued. Nevertheless, the majority of those resisting (including the author) avoided such ‘unnecessary risks’ (Scott, 1985, p. 281).
Despite the apparent flippancy or even childishness of the remark, it was serious not friendly or fun, at least for management, and reflected the collective struggle of which we were all a part. The taboo subject of managerial authority and control was threatened and managerial authority/pride wounded, hence the threat that one of them may have to leave. The unspoken managerial reaction said, ‘This is no joke; you really mean it. I won’t let you get away with it, because you know perfectly well this matter [managerial authority] must not be discussed’ or challenged. It strayed too far into the realm of ‘serious discourse, dissolving the joker’s fiction that it was not’ (Emerson, 1969, p. 171) serious.
The ambiguity of humour is apparent because Dr. Jenkins could have escaped with a smile, saying ‘I’m only joking,’ but there was no attempt to ‘make the transition’ (Emerson, 1969, p. 175). It was serious, ‘real’ (Contu, 2008) and subversive and meant to disrupt ‘the social situation’ (Emerson, 1969, p. 171). Dr. Jenkins did not play the ‘court fool’ whereby ‘subordinates satirize authority by temporarily inverting prevailing hierarchical relationships’ (Collinson, 2002, p. 270). Unlike other uses of humour, it was not permitted, licensed or sanctioned. Dr. Jenkins was not a jester who ‘can attack authority figures and the powerful from behind the cover of humour’ linked to the ‘non-threatening role he occupies’ (Westwood, 2004, p. 786), because it was clear that he was serious and challenging management authority.
The dispute included a third protest rally to coincide with a Council meeting to ratify management’s strategy. After Council met, local union representatives met with the staff whose jobs were threatened. This meeting marked the beginning of the end of the dispute because it was announced that the threat of compulsory redundancies had been withdrawn. This was only a partial victory because management would continue with its strategy while calling for voluntary redundancies.
A meeting then followed between the staff whose jobs were threatened, a senior academic manager, the HR director and Mr. White (external consultant). The senior manager began with a symbolic display of authority saying: ‘I’m going to speak from a script.’ It was stated that ‘decisions have not been made about individuals, I want to assure you of that.’ At this point, the HR director interjected:
Incredibly difficult situation and we are sensitive to that.
Bullshit.
Nonsense.
That’s not very helpful.
It is the blatant, ‘incongruous’ (Meyer, 1997, p. 198; Cooper, 2008, p. 1096) and ‘outrageous’ (Contu, 2008, p. 377) disrespect that makes the first AC member’s comment funny. It amounted to ‘open hostility’ (Mumby, 2005, p. 29) that threatened the managerial performance of empathy and authority. This partly reflects that employees in a dispute can enjoy a carnivalesque limited freedom because normal order is disrupted but they were ‘rare moments of political electricity’ when ‘the hidden transcript is spoken directly and publicly in the teeth of power’ (Scott, 1990, p. xiii). These interjections drew on the ‘collective hidden transcript’ (Scott, 1990, p. 9) by displaying open contempt for management. At such times, it is problematic to ask ‘What are members of the organization permitted to laugh at and what is taboo?’ (Huber & Brown, 2017, p. 1108) because management are not in control as when the ‘normal context’ (Scott, 1985, p. 27) prevails. Nevertheless, the resistance was ambiguous for anarchy did not reign and power continued to be exercised both through managers and those resisting, for few individuals risked ‘such open defiance’ (Scott, 1985, p. 324). These outbursts ‘let off steam’ but unlike ‘escape attempts’ that ‘disengage from the world of work’ (Fleming & Spicer, 2007, p. 38) they engaged through collective challenge. The discussion continued through AC member 2 wanting to know more about the process through which the decision to continue with management’s strategy had been reached:
Issue took an hour.
Big deal.
Council only talked about the substance of the decision for quarter of an hour, the rest was about process.
That sounds a bit short. I don’t want you to think Council didn’t care.
Were Council given the alternative [strategy]? No, of course, they weren’t.
There’s a danger here of getting distracted. . ..Council felt very strongly, indeed passionately, that there shouldn’t be compulsory redundancies. . .We’ve got a framework, got a package and are reserving the right to negotiate individually because people are different. Don’t know what else to say.
How about: ‘I resign’?
These barbed jibes are unlike ‘everyday resistance’ which clothes resistance ‘with the safe disguise of outward compliance’ (Scott, 1985, p. 283) and an ‘absence of open confrontation’ (Scott, 1985, p. 273). They displayed contempt for managerial authority, especially the final ‘quip’ (Holmes & Marra, 2002, p. 75), and tested boundaries. In contrast to carnivals (Scott, 1990, p. 173) or organizational ceremonies, where ‘joking’ (Rosen, 1988, p. 472) is ‘permitted’ (Radcliffe-Brown, 1952, p. 91), licensed or tolerated (Scott, 1990, p. 174), these interjections were serious, real, not allowed and were meant to cause offence. Rather than ‘ameliorate’ (Rosen, 1988, p. 472) social strain or seriousness through a ‘combination of friendliness and antagonism’ (Radcliffe-Brown, 1952, p. 91), they reflected and heightened it.
Discussion
This article contributes to our understanding of resistance, resistant humour and humour through exploring solidaristic humour in three ways. First, it has highlighted that when considered in relation to strike action, resistant humour transcends distinctions such as overt and covert, individual and collective, decaf and real resistance (see also Marsh & Śliwa, 2022; McCabe, 2019). The ‘decaf’ critique (Contu, 2008) risks closing the door to the unknown or what Gabriel (1995, p. 477) refers to as ‘the unmanaged organization’ or the ‘terrain which is not and cannot be managed’. The solidaristic humour discussed in the case is beyond the control of management or even those resisting. Hence it is difficult to know what impact solidaristic humour has on its target, colleagues or even ourselves and it will vary depending on the audience (the resisters or resisted), medium (newsletters, ACs, management-staff meetings) and individuals. This uncertainty is lost in Mulkay’s (1988, p. 212) assertion that humour ‘overwhelmingly’ serves ‘to support and reaffirm the established patterns of orderly, serious conduct’ or Fox’s (1990, p. 433) statement that humour serves to ‘sustain the social order’.
These arguments imply predictability, suggesting that humour does not or cannot change extant relations. In isolation this may be correct but, when considered in a context of struggle, solidaristic humour can contribute to challenging authority. Collinson (1988) and later Mumby (2005) quite rightly warn against romanticizing resistant humour but, as a condition of struggle, it is important to recognize that ‘such modes of resistance are not trivial’ (Scott, 1985, p. 30), calculable or under control. Nevertheless, solidaristic humour can tie us to established subjectivities and positions and this is why arguments regarding ‘decaf’ humour cannot be dismissed. This does not render outcomes certain, however, and solidaristic humour is ‘subversive’ to an extent ‘since its form consists of a victorious tilting of uncontrol against control, it is an image of the levelling of hierarchy’ (Douglas, 1975, p. 98). This unpredictability is apparent when the Newsletter was unexpectedly read by management and ‘upset’ them.
Solidaristic humour is different from ‘comic relief’ that is ‘not to be taken seriously’ so that afterwards we ‘return to the comfort of our known and settled world’ (Westwood, 2004, p. 788) because the world was not known or settled either for management or those resisting. The ‘comic relief’ for those resisting was, at best, fleeting because of the continuing threat of redundancy. It is too strong to say that ‘we emerge refreshed’ (Mulkay, 1988, p. 215) from solidaristic humour or that it amounted to a ‘transition from fear to lack of fear’ (Marsh & Śliwa, 2022, p. 490). Westwood (2004, p. 785) argues that ‘the difference between tragedy and comedy is that tragedy is ‘real’; it ‘deals seriously with the problems, pain, and suffering of life’, but this could also be said of solidaristic humour. It had ‘a cathartic effect’ (Westwood, 2004, p. 790) albeit briefly for those resisting but, in terms of intent, it was ‘not subversive in the sense of undermining the status quo’ (Westwood, 2004, p. 785).
Solidaristic humour was part of an attempt to restore established norms and so to this extent it was ‘decaf’ (Contu, 2008). It was not, however, without ‘costs and risks’ (Contu, 2008, p. 374) for it rendered certain staff more visible than others and so it is ‘potentially self-sacrificial’ (Mumby et al., 2017, p. 13) or career threatening. In contrast to Marsh and Śliwa’s (2022, p. 489) excellent study of political protest, it cannot be said that those resisting ‘were not afraid’ and this helps to explain why so few were willing to openly mock management (including myself). It elucidates why many academics ‘comply with managerialism’ although at Greenshire they did not do so ‘willingly’ or ‘enthusiastically’ at least during the dispute (Alvesson & Spicer, 2016, pp. 29–30). It also illuminates how compliance and resistance coexist, hence those who did not openly mock management, perhaps due to careerism (Clarke & Knights, 2015), nonetheless continued to resist through participating in strike action, action short of a strike, protest rallies, and so on. Moreover, the aim of the resistance proved modest and even its success denoted compliance although ongoing struggle remains over pay, pension, and so on.
In a context of collective resistance, the ‘conflict’ between careerism and resistance is less apparent than in individual struggles (see Alvesson & Szkudlarek, 2020, p. 415) because the majority can avoid individual visibility through the collective (i.e. authorship of the ‘vibrant’ newsletters, voting to strike, creating placards and leaflets, was anonymous). The threat to careers is therefore reduced, making collective resistance the safer option. Collective anonymity therefore aids resistance and helps to remedy the ‘dilemma’ of a careerist versus a resistant identity (Alvesson & Szkudlarek, 2020, p. 415). Hence, even a ‘mercenary mentality’ whereby one pursues ‘individual benefits (pay, promotion, prestige, etc)’ need not be entirely ‘at the cost of engaging in community matters’ (Rintamäki & Alvesson, 2022, p. 5).
The resistance at Greenshire, like that at the Open University, had ‘no explicitly stated aim’ (Bowes-Catton et al., 2020, p. 389) and was not ‘designed to endure’ (Sanson & Courpasson, 2022, p. 1697). Despite the enormous effort and courage displayed it is too strong to deem Greenshire or even the Open University an ‘antidote to jolt others out of voluntary servitude, defeatism and quiescence regarding the managerialism that is so rife in academia’ (Bowes-Catton et al., 2020, p. 394). This is because both were bound up with ‘quiescence’ and indicate the need for more widespread struggle to resist managerialism. Nevertheless, they are a start, and question whether ‘cynical compliance’ (Alvesson & Spicer, 2016, p. 32) or ‘defeatism rules’ (Alvesson & Spicer, 2016, p. 37). We should remember that resistance ‘conceived and conducted with no revolutionary end in mind, can, and occasionally does, contribute to revolutionary outcomes’ (Scott, 1985, p. 349). Indeed, Scott (1985) has argued that ‘everyday forms of resistance’ are a ‘condition’ (Scott, 1985, p. 191) or ‘building block’ (Scott, 1985, p. 201) of ‘overt, collective resistance’ (Scott, 1990, p. 197), which problematizes the notion of ‘real’ versus ‘decaf’ resistance. Moreover, as Fleming and Spicer (2007, p. 181) indicate, revolution would draw on what ‘already exists between us’ not as ‘a distant ideal’ but what ‘is already present’. In other words, the ‘real’ is in the ‘decaf’ and solidaristic humour is a part of both. In terms of solidaristic humour then, established distinctions in relation to resistance are clearly problematic.
Second, the case highlights how problematic the distinction between humour and seriousness can be during strike action. If humour refers to ‘unreal’ or ‘playful’ asides that can be withdrawn if taken seriously (Linstead, 1985) then it fits better with ‘decaf’ resistance if indeed it ‘hurts nobody’ (Contu, 2008, p. 370). Solidaristic humour was not, however, unreal nor was it characterized by ‘playfulness’ on the whole, but reflected a power struggle and, as such, it was serious. It was serious to refer to the HR director and the consultant as ‘monkeys’ in writing, hence it caused offence and could not easily be withdrawn. Solidaristic humour did not ‘offer the listener the opportunity to take’ it ‘seriously or not’ (Kahn, 1989, p. 55) as when the HR director’s empathy was dismissed as ‘bullshit’ and it was suggested they should ‘resign’.
According to Mulkay (1988) ‘humorous and serious discourse operate according to fundamentally different principles’ (Mulkay, 1988, p. 7) but ‘the boundary between’ them ‘is highly ambiguous’ and ‘participants make use of this boundary for serious purposes’ (Mulkay, 1988, p. 217; see also Westwood, 2004, p. 783). Mulkay (1988, p. 213) provides a number of interesting ‘speculations’ concerning the distinction that are worth exploring in relation to solidaristic humour as it highlights that it is problematic. Mulkay (1988) asserts that the serious mode attempts to ‘sustain the sense of living in a unitary world that is shared by all’ that is ‘constantly under threat’ (Mulkay, 1988, p. 213) for ‘it denies the multiplicity of social life’ (Mulkay, 1988, p. 214). In contrast to ‘decaf’ resistance (Contu, 2008), solidaristic humour more clearly poses a threat to the managerial serious mode because it reflects and highlights that the social world is not ‘unitary’. The humorous versus the serious is a necessary but problematic distinction because solidaristic humour reflects one ‘serious mode’ (pluralism, job security, collectivism, not-for-profit, education-for-education’s sake) resisting another (unilateralism, insecurity, individualism, education-for-profit, managerialism, neoliberalism).
To say that when ‘Judged by the criteria of serious discourse, humour is nonsensical’ (Mulkay, 1988, p. 26) only applies if we regard them dualistically. As we have seen, solidaristic humour is not nonsensical and does not involve ‘abandoning’ (Mulkay, 1988, pp. 214–215) or entirely leaving ‘the serious mode’ (Fox, 1990, p. 433). Mulkay (1988, p. 214) asserts that ‘in the domain of humour, the multiplicity of the social world does not have to be denied’ but solidaristic humour sought to deny the position of those it opposed. Likewise, solidaristic humour has affinities with the serious ‘language of domination and opposition’ (Mulkay, 1988, p. 220) as it expressed opposition to domination. Rather than ‘strikingly different’ (Mulkay, 1988, p. 8) then, solidaristic humour is akin to the ‘serious mode’ as it ‘appears to be designed to facilitate action and control’ on the part of those resisting.
If we regard ‘humour’ as ‘a form of play rather than an engagement with the practicalities of life’ (Mulkay, 1988, p. 8) or ‘inaction and withdrawal’ then it could be seen as ‘decaf’ resistance. This is different, however, from solidaristic humour that is part of engaged, collective opposition, that reflects and seeks to engage with ‘the practicalities of life’. Indeed, like ‘the serious mode’, solidaristic humour endeavoured to ‘enable us [those resisting] to relate to, and to control, the world in an organized manner’ (Mulkay, 1988, p. 221). The inability of the ‘serious mode’ to define reality created space for solidaristic humour. The two are not separate. One can compare this to learning the grammar and vocabulary of a language (the serious mode). Once mastered, humour can be woven into the words and pauses, which cannot be predicted or controlled (the humorous mode) but they are a condition of each other.
Third, solidaristic humour can be understood as part of an attempt to express and galvanize solidarity, which Sorensen (2008, p. 175) suggested as a ‘theoretical’ possibility. Solidarity began ‘spontaneously’ (Atzeni, 2009, p. 14) and was fragile. It is correct to argue that ‘what holds our struggles together are the common jokes’ (Fleming & Spicer, 2007, p. 179) but solidaristic humour is only part of this process. It would be incorrect to say that ‘Solidarity was released, was set free’ (Atzeni, 2009, p. 14) as if it is a caged tiger and arrives fully formed, because it needed constant support as an ephemeral way of being (see Bowes-Catton et al., 2020).
Solidaristic humour challenged and picked at the tapestry of management authority through turning both the formal and informal management discourse back on management, but it has to be acknowledged that it did little to challenge managerialism or neoliberalism. Resistance in UK academia to casualization, pay cuts and the threat to pensions, has had limited success. Davies and Bendix Petersen (2005, p. 80) lament that ‘we find little work on a counter-discourse with which to confront or to overturn the dominant position of neo-liberalism in universities’. The case of Greenshire elucidates how such a discourse could begin to be wielded against management as part of ‘small, everyday acts of solidarity’, but a ‘macro’ (Brandist, 2017, p. 603) counter-discourse or ‘counter language’ (McCann et al., 2020, p. 447) is needed to transgress ‘organizational boundaries’ (Skoglund & Böhm, 2020, p. 1273).
Davies and Bendix Petersen (2005) and also Lorenz (2012) provide excellent platforms upon which to build such a counter-discourse and solidaristic humour could play a ‘liberating role’ (see Marsh & Śliwa, 2022, p. 481) as part of it. To nurture ‘permanent defiance’ (Sanson & Courpasson, 2022, p. 1696) both ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ organizations (Skoglund & Böhm, 2020, p. 1277), there is a need to change the narrative and bypass the media and politicians to inform and enrol the public and students as activists to resist the waste, costs and harm of neoliberal managerialism. Through the UCU, the anonymity of this boundaryless resistance could help to counter the ‘dilemma’ (Alvesson & Szkudlarek, 2020, p. 415) academics face between careerism and overt resistance. Slogans, statements, cartoons, posters, social media, ‘absurd events’ (see Marsh & Śliwa, 2022, p. 489), rallies and protests (McCabe, 2019) could employ solidaristic humour to educate, promote dialogue, laughter, mockery, ridicule, questioning and anger towards those in authority.
An advertisement for a fictitious neoliberal university might read – ‘If you believe in the pursuit of wisdom then don’t come to our university’. Billboards stating: There are more administrators than academics in most UK universities (No Joke!) (see Alvesson & Spicer, 2016) or ‘I finally saw the Matrix when I discovered that managers not lecturers decide student grades’ (see Alvesson & Szkudlarek, 2020) or ‘Students rejoice! XX% of your fees are paid to managers.’ Of course, someone who is funny would be needed to write them but to laugh at those in authority, to ridicule and mock the absurd conditions they have created could be an important weapon in securing change. Indeed, as the case of Greenshire reveals, those in authority may be ‘upset’ by mockery while the public and students may be enraged. Scholars also need to be united and encouraged to reflect upon, laugh at and resist what they (we) have become due to neoliberal managerialism.
Conclusion
No simple, isolated, linear or causal claims can be made in terms of the impact of solidaristic humour. It was serious and part of a challenge to management but its condition and outcomes are mercurial – a glowing ember from which ‘other forms of resistance might grow’ (Scott, 1985, p. 273). It is this uncertainty and ambiguity that has been insufficiently considered to date. As elsewhere (see McCann et al., 2020), redundancies continued at Greenshire but resisting compulsion was an important concession because the change programme that proceeded was not the intended one. Management could not victimize or punish individuals, change was delayed, management’s authority/legitimacy was challenged and staff left during and after the dispute due to management’s behaviour.
The withdrawal of compulsion can be compared to ‘smoothing’ that allows for ‘honourable surrender’ and ‘a smooth ending’ of ‘struggle’ (Alvesson & Szkudlarek, 2020, p. 415). In Alvesson and Szkudlarek’s (2020) study of the capitulation of individual resistance, smoothing was a means to enforce management diktat. In a context of collective resistance, however, the withdrawal of compulsion marked an ‘honourable surrender’ for both sides for both gained and lost. Those resisting departed from outright opposition and management departed from unilateralism. In such instances, there is no reason why ‘honourable surrender’, especially after winning concessions, ‘may lead to erosion of resistance’ (Alvesson & Szkudlarek, 2020, p. 417) or full compliance. The success of resistance may fuel opposition while reaffirming the need for collective resistance. Solidaristic humour contributed to tearing at the tapestry of managerial authority, albeit temporarily and in a limited way. It is too strong to say that it is ‘decaf’ and not ‘real’ resistance (Contu, 2008) or that it ‘is predominantly a conservative, rather than liberating or constructive, force’ (Mulkay, 1988, p. 211). This is as problematic as romanticizing the threat it poses for neither grasp nor express the complexity, unpredictability and ambiguity of resisting.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank the anonymous reviewers and the senior editor for their helpful and thoughtful comments that considerably improved the original manuscript.
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.