Power dynamics in academia are like the seasons: rarely static, often unpredictable and occasionally extreme. As academics, we move through changing structures, new department heads, abrupt administrative reshuffles and evolving institutional priorities, all of which can reshape our day-to-day work completely. For me, learning to work with different management styles, especially those that feel rigid or impersonal, has been one of the more unexpected learning curves in my career.
When I first began lecturing, I assumed that academic environments would prioritise open dialogue and shared values. I imagined a workplace where reasoned conversation was the norm, where critical thinking applied as much to institutional decisions as to classroom debates. The reality, as many of us come to discover, is that universities are made up of people, and people have their own pressures, ambitions, insecurities and management habits.
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Early on in my academic journey, I encountered managers whose styles felt, at best, unpredictable and, at worst, discouraging. Requests were issued without context, priorities changed frequently and I often felt that I was walking a tightrope, unsure of whether I was doing too much or too little. It took a toll on my confidence. I began questioning myself more than I questioned the system. Was I not competent enough? Was I failing to read between the lines of my university’s culture?
In all honesty, it took time for me to reframe these questions – instead of signs of failure, as signals that I needed to recalibrate my approach to leadership and power. I began focusing on what I could control: my relationships with my students, my communications with my colleagues, my output in research. I realised that, in a shifting system, consistency had to come from me. That meant developing habits that gave me a sense of stability like setting clear boundaries around working hours, maintaining open and respectful communication regardless of tone received, and keeping a detailed record of tasks and expectations.
On one occasion, I was due to audit a colleague’s lecture when, after it became clear that they were running late, I called to ask where they were. They informed me – without hesitation or apology, to the students or to me – that they weren’t coming and that I should take over. No prior warning, no preparation. Incidents like that made it clear I could not rely on the system to provide structure, so I had to create it myself. To this day, that unplanned one-hour lecture remains one of the most difficult teaching moments I have ever faced.
The importance of interpreting a manager’s meaning
But perhaps the most valuable lesson I’ve learned is the importance of translation. Not linguistic translation, but cultural and emotional translation: learning to interpret what a manager or leader means, not just what they say.
For example, I’ve noticed that when priorities change suddenly, it’s often because that person is under pressure themselves. Granted, this is very understandable in places that have clear-cut chains of command, such as (surprise, surprise) academia. In such cases, the dean, for example, will try meeting demands from above, and not necessarily deliberately try to undermine those below.
Recognising this doesn’t excuse poor communication of course, but it does make space for empathy. And empathy, I’ve found, is a form of quiet strength in academic settings.
Of course, not all difficult management encounters can be turned into constructive moments. Sometimes, silence really is silencing. Sometimes, the dynamic isn’t just difficult, it’s toxic. In other words, being upper in the chain of command doesn’t excuse mistreatment towards those below. However, in such cases, what is usually needed is not escalation, but translation.
Universities should do more to prepare early career academics for these interpersonal and structural dynamics. After all, we’re trained in our fields, but rarely in workplace navigation. Responsibility for this should be shared: human resources departments are well placed to provide structural training and mediation, while deans and faculty heads can ensure that these principles are embedded in everyday practice. At an institutional level, vice-chancellors or rectors can set the tone by making open discussion of power dynamics a clear strategic priority. Creating spaces where power can be discussed openly without fear or repercussion might help to prevent misunderstandings before they escalate into lasting tensions.
If I could offer one piece of advice to those navigating similar dynamics, it would be this: do not confuse quietness with weakness, or diplomacy with defeat. The goal is not to win every disagreement or outmanoeuvre every shift in power. The goal is to maintain your integrity, find your voice and protect your ability to do meaningful work even when the winds change direction.
In hindsight, I’m grateful for the challenges I faced with difficult managers. Not because they were easy, but because they taught me how to listen better, speak more clearly and hold my ground without burning bridges. They taught me how to be a valued translator in my faculty. Academia will always involve negotiation, with ideas, with institutions and (inevitably) with people. Learning how to do that well might not be in our job description, but it’s undoubtedly part of the job.
Ahmet Küçükuncular is a doctoral researcher at Near East University.
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