JAPANESE TERTIARY EDUCATION
employed at EUC. This was a cost-cutting strategy, because our subsidy from
MEXT was to be less in a few years time, and “since EUC employs the third-
largest number of hijōkin in Japan, we must reduce the number.” This is an
interesting statement if compared with much of the literature in the U.S. that
describes part-time faculty employment as clearly an exploitation of cheap labor.
At EUC the board of trustees identified hijōkin as expensive labor. Full-time
faculty are on a salaried wage, of course, and not directly reimbursed for each class
taught as are the part-time instructors. Rather than hiring part-time staff, it makes
economic sense for management to simply ask full-time staff to teach more class
hours for the same pay.
Once a full-time position is procured by an academic at EUC, competition for
academic status is not a great motivator for the professors I observed and spoke
with. For one, there is no tenure system, a major factor in most accounts of
competition, uncertainty and stress at universities in North America (Pescosolido &
Aminzade 1999a; Tierney 1999; Tierney & Bensimon 1996). Once hired as full-
time at whatever the rank, job security is guaranteed. The great divide in the
faculty at EUC is between full-time, permanent faculty members and contract
academic staff, either employed on a two or three-year contract basis (ninkitsuki)
or as part-time faculty to teach a certain number of classes on a year-to-year basis
(hijōkin).
Heirarchichal Structure
The hierarchical structure of the university organization is more important in terms
of ideology (tatemae) than actual practice (honne). Tatemae (the official or explicit
rule, the “surface ideology”) and honne (unofficial or hidden rule, the “actual
practice”) is a dichotomy critical to understanding the social world of Japan, used
effectively as units for analysis in Japanese organizational life (Graham 2001, 2003,
2004). For example, moving up the ladder, from sen’nin kōshi (assistant professor
in the U.S.), jokyōju (associate professor), to kyōju (full professor) offers only
incremental increases in pay, roughly ¥8,000 per month, or around ¥130,000 per
year if bonuses are figured into the equation. This pay increase is even less
attractive if one considers that an equal increase in pay is awarded on a yearly
basis, regardless of performance or rank, as part of the seniority system (nenkō
joretsu seido). Furthermore, in terms of power as well, though the appearances
(tatemae) of rank and seniority are extremely important, this organizational
hierarchy is manipulated by the professorial actors resulting in a practice (honne)
model that largely ignores overt organizational structures. Eades (personal
communication) mentions that junior staff may avoid promotion at some
institutions because of the added teaching load a full professorship often entails,
though at EUC there is no such extra workload associated with a promotion (the
younger, lower ranked faculty members do more of the teaching and committee
work than the professors).
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CHAPTER 1
24
At EUC, like at most smaller privates, there is no system of department chairs
linked to professorships, as exists at many national universities. This means that
there is no limit to the number of professorships awarded. The result is that nearly
70 percent of the faculty has the rank of professor. This has resulted in a
competition of sorts, if only because of the conspicuousness of not being a
“professor.” When the university president (gakuchō) was an associate professor
himself, he spearheaded a political move to accelerate the process of promotion,
encouraging a more flexible reading of the bylaws concerning number of
publications and years of service needed for the nomination of a promotion. As
president he decided to further reduce the number of publications needed for
promotion, rationalizing this with the explanation that a climate of extensive and
time-consuming administrative work prohibits professors from publishing in a
timely fashion. It is interesting that the university president apparently did not see
the need to reduce the amount of administrative and committee work placed on the
shoulders of the academic staff.
Although a hidden organizational structure of EUC is overtly acknowledged, as
Chino-sensei related to me in a candid discussion about promotions and
professoriate ranks, the import of titles (katagaki, literally “shoulder writing”) in
Japanese society should not be underrated. Within the EUC community itself,
knowledge of the small pay difference and the noncompetitive “escalator”
approach to promotion purports a rather egalitarian outlook with respect to job
titles. This is not the case within larger society. There is no doubt that the title of
“professor” on a name or business card demands much more attention than the
rank of “assistant professor.” Granted, the name of the institution at where one
holds this rank is not of small interest. While at Oxford, my wife and I observed
the interest with which wives of visiting Japanese academics often compared their
husband’s institutional rank.
The cut-throat atmosphere of large research universities has been most famously
stereotyped by the famous 1965 Yamazaki Toyoko novel, made into a TV series as
recently as 2003. Shiroi Kyotō (“Ivory Tower”) dramatizes the promotional process
at an elite university teaching hospital with a fictionalized account of the dirty
politics involved in competing for the prize of professorship. Though the pressure
to obtain the badge of professor is less severe than at such elite institutions, even
EUC faculty members are conscious of their title when pressing palms at an
academic conference, applying for a mortgage at a local bank, or generally
presenting themselves to the world outside the university. During a debate in the
faculty senate, Umehara-sensei related to me that the importance of Amagawa-
sensei’s promotion had also to do with a grant application to MEXT that required
at least an associate professor rank.
On the surface, an observer of an EUC faculty senate would unwittingly surmise
that the professors, or those with age seniority anyway, wield the most individual
power within the university. The voices of younger members of faculty, especially
relative newcomers and women, are conspicuously absent in the faculty senates
unless called upon specifically for their opinions. After extended observation of the