7 December 2007 (27 Kislev 5768)
I am greatly indebted to Bar-Ilan University, my present employer, for two things: firstly for having enabled me to work for the first time in a tenure-track full time position, and secondly for enhancing my academic productivity, at least quantitatively. Since I started working as a lecturer in Hebrew linguistics here, my scholarly output has doubled, and I could publish in more recognized places than I used to when I worked as a part-time lecturer in multiple universities in Japan.
There are several possible reasons for this welcome change. The first is that I simply have more time for myself now: I teach four courses a week, while back in Japan I had to teach 12 courses a week to make both ends meet, which left me little time for preparing articles. The second is that I find myself now in a far more stimulating academic environment, surrounded by world authorities in my research area of Hebrew and Jewish linguistics, and with what I do considered socially relevant. In Japan I sometimes could not help feeling that what I studied in Jerusalem was irrelevant to the society. In this respect it is ironic that living in Israel now, I receive more requests from publishers in Japan to contribute articles.
The third and probably the main reason is that we researchers in Israeli universities, like our counterparts in other advanced countries, are under constant enormous pressure to publish in order not to perish, especially if we have not tenure yet. Not only the quantity but also the quality of publications are important: the quality is mainly judged by whether our articles were published in peer-reviewed journals, preferably in English, even in the field of Jewish studies, including Hebrew linguistics. Having been experiencing this pressure on my own flesh for the past three years, I find that many of my Japanese colleagues are really pampered. It is true that it is also difficult there to find a full-time position, but once you have, you generally acquire tenure immediately, and you are promoted almost automatically, regardless of the quantity and quality of your publications.
Most people, including myself, of course, will simply prefer to be lazy if they have no compelling reason to work harder in order to secure their position and promotion. Recently I checked ReaD (Directory Database of Research and Development Activities) to find the whereabouts of other alumni of my alma mater in Japan who I know have full-time positions in Japanese universities. Those who are more or less in my age are already associate professors. To my surprise, however, the academic productivity of many of them does not seem to have increased significantly after they found full-time positions; I have even found that in quite a few cases it has even decreased afterwards. I was also rather shocked to find that some of them, who are associate professors or even professors, have less than ten articles, which is something unimaginable in Israeli univerities, and that in those places that are considered here unworthy of even mentioning. This is a good proof for the fact that many of us, including talented ones, inevitably tend to become lazy if our income is secured for life regardless of whether we work hard or not. In my opinion this quasi-communist system in Japan needs fundamental reform, including such draconian measures as to fire professors who have not published even one article for the past, let's say, five years, thus giving room to young promising researchers who have not found full-time positions.
14 December 2007 (5 Tevet 5768)
The only way not to fall down while riding a bicycle is to keep moving forward. The same seems to be the case with our intellectual "ride"; we need to keep nurturing out brain just to keep out intellectual status quo, to say nothing of making a progress. There are probably two ways to nurture our brain: firstly, by communicating with our fellow researchers not only in the same field but preferably also in neighboring and even totally different fields, whether face-to-face or electronically; secondly, by reading both classics and newly published books.
I define my specialty as Hebrew and Jewish linguistics, and that as a field in Jewish studies, but at the same time I am also nurtured by general linguistics, especially morphology, lexicon, linguistic typology, contact linguistics, sociolinguistics and computational linguistics. Living in Jerusalem, where I did my doctorate, and working at Bar-Ilan University, I have far more opportunities to communicate with my colleagues in the narrow field of Hebrew and Jewish linguistics than in Japan, and I have a far easier access to all the necessary professional literature on Hebrew and Jewish linguistics, though I have built my private library with most of the necessary books and journals in this specific field.
But when it comes to general linguistics, the situation is totally different. The libraries of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem (my alma mater in Israel) and Bar-Ilan University (my present workplace) hold far less books in the field, whether classic or new than their Japanese counterparts, at least those libraries of the universities where there are departments of linguistics. So I am left with no other choice but to buy books I want and/or have to read in general linguistics by myself, most of which are in English. Fortunately or unfortunately, my wish list of such books has been growing constantly.
I have already become quite pessimistic about the possibility of keeping up with this ever growing wish list of books as I have two serious obstacles to do so in Israel. First of all, we earn much less than in the UK or the US, where most of the books on my wish list are published, and we have to pay extra for the postage. Secondly, Israel started some time ago what seems to me a totally anti-intellectual policy of taxing books ordered from abroad; when I was still a student here from 1988 to 1993, such a policy did not exist. I fully understand that the country needs every extra money with its tight budget, but I wonder if it has to go so far as to squeeze quite an outrageous sum for books ordered from abroad, especially considering the fact that you have to read books in English and other major languages in Israel in order not to fall down from your bicycle. So we end up paying about 150% of the net price, including the postage and the duties, in absolute terms, but we pay much more in relative terms because of our lower income.
The Jewish People are called the People of the Book. Although the book publication in Israel seems still quite active in spite of its small market, I am not sure any more if Jewish Israelis can remain a people of books, as long as the above mentioned policy continues; it may be possible to barely remain a people of local books but not of books in general.
21 December 2007 (12 Tevet 5768)
I am more in sorrow than in anger and frustration over the strike over the erosion of salary by the senior faculty association in Israeli universities that is still ongoing since it started about nine weeks ago and may even lead to the cancellation of this first semester. My sorrow is triple.
First of all, I am sorry that as a member of this association I have no choice but to follow the decisions of its leaders even if I am not for them. It seems to me that strikes in the public sector are not only too egocentric ways of putting your demands to your employers, with many innocent people forced to pay a heavy price for you, but also ineffective, as we can see from the very fact that this strike has not been able to solve the problem after wasting as long as nine weeks.
I am also deeply sorry that this strike, more than the students' strike that paralyzed the Israeli universities in the last semester, has thwarted and deranged my life and surely the lives of many other faculty members who have been required to participate in this strike. Although it is meant to improve our working conditions in the long run and also has an implication for the future of the universities in the country, this method of struggle has brought no positive result yet, and in the meanwhile we ourselves are paying prices. The most immediate price is that we are paid almost half a salary for participating in something not all of us wanted, though nobody would oppose its rationale. Seemingly, we have more time for ourselves during the strike, but since we do not know when it will come to an end, hence have to be on the alert, checking news constantly. In retrospect we had nine weeks of "free" time, but it is not like knowing in advance that we have this period of time for ourselves. I do not know how others feel, but I, for one, feel that my morale has been eroded, especially because I love to teach. We will also have to reschedule or even cancel our participation in academic conferences abroad.
My greatest sorrow, however, is for our students. I simply cannot understand how the leaders of the association can be indifferent to their sufferings for such a long time. Why do I have to involve them?! First of all, many of them have been paying their rents in vain. Those who live in the dormitories seems to be refunded the money, but what about those who rent apartments near their respective universities? If this semester should be cancelled, what will happen to them? Even if it should not, either the intersemestral vacation will be cancelled to make up for the lost time, adding enormous and unfair pressure upon them in preparing for examinations, which may even take place during the second semester, or another semester will be added during the summer vacation, preventing them from working then for the tuition fees for the next academic year.
In short, I am of the opinion that a new law must be made in Israel that restricts strikes in universities, whether by teachers or by students, to one week. We have already seen enough that strikes do not solve problems, at least not within a reasonable amount of time, and make not only innocent people but their participants themselves pay prices and often cause them irreversible damages, including the precious time we have lost and will probably have to once they come to an end. If the causes for a struggle are justified, are the means for it also justified automatically? I do not think so.
28 December 2007 (19 Tevet 5768)
I can only marvel at those linguists who can specialize in certain languages without truly appreciating the cultures of their speakers. I say this because I cannot feel emotionally attached to Esperanto because of a more and more universally accepted "culture" of its speakers; I cannot leave "international" gatherings of Esperantists without feeling cultural or spiritual emptiness.
If I am not mistaken, Zamenhof made Esperanto not as a vehicle for a single "universal" culture but as a bridge between diverse cultures that would remain in symbiosis, but what we see now is different from what he must have meant. When I sometimes say half-seriously in Yiddish, "Esperanto iz yidish far goyim, ober s'hot nit keyn yidishn tam", I actually mean something more than a passing joke about what I really feel about seemingly many, if not all, followers of the Esperanto movement. What has been crystalized in the meanwhile among Esperantists, at least in "international" gatherings, is a "Standard Average European" culture forged typically by those who are Europeans, have Christian background and leftists - a sort of the common denominator of the majority of the Esperantists who are rich enough to regularly participate in the Universal Congresses, which are generally held in Europe.
Of course, I have (almost) nothing against European cultures and Christianity, though I am a sworn anti-leftist, but I am not ready to accept the fact that such a diluted version of "Standard Average European" culture remains among many Esperantists as if it were the universal culture. If you are not part of this culture, which in my opinion is parochial at best and far from being universal. I am especially sorry for those who feel that they do not belong to this "Standard Average European" culture and make an unconscious protest by having recourse to artefacts that are not part of their daily lives, such as dressing themselves in a "traditional" manner. I can only giggle at them and their cheap idea.
What really bothers me about the blind followers of "Standard Average European" culture, who seem to constitute the majority in the Esperanto movement, as if it were "universal" is their lack of consideration for members of other cultures. They make it extremely hard for, let's say, an observant Jew or Muslim, to participate even in the Universal Congress. I really want to visit Bialystok to take part in the 94th Universal Congress in the summer of 2009, but I still hestiate because of their seeming lack of consideration for kashres and shabes there. Yes, very "universal" indeed; again, s'hot nit keyn yidishn tam. ;-) The bottom line is that the more universal you try to be superficially, the more parochial you actually become in essence.