It’s time to break the extraction mindset of higher education

By Eliza.Compton, 9 May, 2025
View
A logic of scarcity and competition leads academia to see hoarding economic, human and social resources as the only way to survive – as a university or a higher education employee, writes Lucas Lixinski
Article type
Article
Main text

Higher education in 21st-century late capitalism can feel like a never-ending cycle of extraction and transaction. Relationships anchored in this mindset can suck all the enjoyment out of our work, which is problematic when so many academics and higher education professionals feel that we are here because we have a vocation for it. But for our own sakes, we ought not let it all make us cynical, too.

Universities in the Global North have been notoriously extractive; we vie for grants and reputation, we recruit the best students from countries in the Global South (many of whom are keen on migration pathways). Universities direct staff (academic and professional) to buy into these goals and execute them. Transactional behaviour becomes a ceaseless quid pro quo.

I want to be clear: this is not a call for keeping calm and carrying on. Nor is it victim blaming. 

A logic of scarcity and competition leads us to the belief that the only way to survive as an institution or a higher education employee is to extract and hoard as many resources (economic, human, social) as possible. But we never get to the point where we expend that hoarded wealth, and we ignore the fact that in accumulating it, we are performing an arguably twisted version of our core mission. In doing the good things we ought to be doing, we become that which we fear and wish to resist.

We fight fire with fire, in other words. Bearing in mind that this is a broad-strokes description and diagnosis of the problem, here are other ways to resist an extraction mindset.

1. Be kind(er) to ourselves and each other

A transactional consequence of “extractivist” thinking is suspicion of one another. We have all been burned, done unrecognised labour and so on. This problem is particularly acute if you are a woman, person of colour or migrant or live with a disability, for example. The memory of this hurt makes us defensive. 

Instead, how about we assume people (particularly those in management positions) want to help? Very few people set out to make the world around them worse. Positive psychology (in which I am no expert, just an enthusiastic tourist) suggests that people like us more than we think they will like us. The same would apply, logically, to people’s intentions in their dealings with us: they like us, so they do not want to harm us. Let’s build trust in our relationships; it helps us as much as it helps the person with whom we are dealing.

2. Practise optimistic critical thinking

Related to building trust when we engage with others, we need to rethink how we deploy critical thinking. Critical thinking is a key part of higher education. We teach our students to do it, and we do it ourselves all the time. But the scepticism that is essential to thinking critically can become cynicism.

Approaching the world around us more optimistically does not mean shedding our critical faculties, but rather replacing cynicism with a baseline of trust. It means querying not how those we deal with are trying to take advantage of us, but how we can build something together that works well for everyone. 

3. Check our egos and privilege

When academic institutions approach relationships in ways that are extractive and transactional, an implication is that they (and those working within them) believe the world owes it to us to listen to what we have to say. We are sophisticated thinkers, goes the argument, trained to see the world from a comfortable distance that gives us perspective.

But this mindset borders on condescension. 

If we do not listen, we can come across as paternalistic – even when we want to help. If universities are to serve society, all of us within universities ought to be its humble servants (emphasis on humble) rather than the aloof know-it-all nobody wants to play with. We need to listen to society not just as a source for our research, but as co-creators of the knowledge we hope they too will want to deploy someday.

4. Foster symmetrical global engagement

The recruitment logic of many universities, which may visit the Global South to attract talent but never to leave anything behind, does not go unnoticed. It leads to resentment. Most crucially, it gets in the way of universities’ mission to improve the world around them.

We ought to think of these relationships far more symmetrically, and see institutions and people in the Global South as partners, not sources. We ought to frame our engagement with the developing world not as continued extraction but as a means of giving back some of what we could only accomplish because someone, at some point in time, set up an extractivist system. We need to create joint projects, and teach courses and publish together, so as to make people in those universities our co-authors. We might even learn a thing or two about how to make our own higher education systems better.

5. A commitment to becoming obsolete

Finally, and most radical of all, my suggestion for us to avoid being extractivist and transactional is to work intentionally towards our own obsolescence. We must be wary of becoming too committed to protecting the viability of a problem as a subject of work – or the trajectory of a career – rather than fixing the problem.

At least in social justice areas such as teaching and research, winning should mean that we are no longer needed. Not for that cause, anyway.

I do not have all the answers, of course. And my personality is in many ways wrapped around being an academic. The fear of losing that personality and the pressures on my limited time make it tempting to be transactional and hoard resources so I can feel a bit more secure.

But I can (try to) do better. Resisting extractivism is worth a shot to make the world around us a little gentler, more generous. It is a world in which I would rather live, so I might as well do my part.

Lucas Lixinski is professor and associate dean (international) in the Faculty of Law & Justice at UNSW Sydney.

If you would like advice and insight from academics and university staff delivered direct to your inbox each week, sign up for the Campus newsletter.

Standfirst
A logic of scarcity and competition leads academia to see hoarding economic, human and social resources as the only way to survive – as a university or a higher education employee, writes Lucas Lixinski

comment