I have been teaching at the College of Europe in Bruges for more than 10 years, but this academic year will be my last. Today I was sacked by email. The College of Europe has a kind of “flying faculty” where we each teach courses on a year to year rolling basis, and mine has just been stopped, leaving me with no teaching there at all now.
How this happened and most importantly the way it happened is important enough to write about it. Because the way I have taught and behaved all these years in Bruges has been with integrity, directness and honesty, and with respect for procedure. These are values that I hold dear, but they count for rather little at the College of Europe and – given where its graduates then end up – that has knock on implications for the EU institutions.
But first the way.
Up until last year I had run two courses at the Politics department at the College of Europe, reduced to one in this academic year – a workshop entitled Online Communication in EU Policymaking. This lunchtime I received an email from the boss of the department, Michael Kaeding, that started like this:
“In view of further needed changes to next year’s POL academic programme I am sorry to inform you that we will have to stop your workshop. The numbers of POL students attending your workshop have been too low lately. And quite frankly, ending a number of not sufficiently well-attended workshops offers me important room for maneuvre. [sic]”
Hang on.
You’re just ending my course without even consulting with me about what we could do to put things right (attendance issues are likely as much due to poor scheduling as anything else), and to give you room for manoeuvre? And you expect me to be OK with that?
And by cancelling this, that’s it, I have no more teaching. So you are basically getting rid of me, without having even asked me? And with this rationale?
I have excellent evaluations over all these years, and despite the College of Europe going through all kinds of mess in the years I have been there, not at any point has my own teaching or behaviour been in any way questionable.
Had Kaeding come to me and suggested changes, I would have been open to that – I am not even sure the course was a sensible match for the programme now. I might even have been open to stopping. But to be summarily cancelled like this, in this tone, is brutal.
I had even suggested a new course for the Politics Department – Transport Policy, a suggestion Kaeding said was rejected, as “many different parameters have to be taken into consideration“. Given at no point was any detail sought to turn my idea into a workable course outline, I think it is obvious that there was not much consideration involved.
He goes on: “there will be again opportunities in the coming years, for which I would be happy to consider you and your expertise […] Thank you for you understanding and for your cooperstion [sic]“. Well no, actually. You showed no understanding for my expertise nor my commitment to these workshops, and did not even offer a word of thanks for all the years I ran them. I am not sure how I am suppose to show “cooperation” with this.
The whole thing reads in the way work relationships in political environments so often operate – passive-aggressively. You, little underling, you are being dispensed with, but because you have no voice against the powerful structures, suck it up, and because if you get too much of a reputation as a troublemaker (including writing blog entries like this), other doors will close for you. So we can treat you badly, and without consequence. Whether you are actually any good at what you do, or have some integrity in how you do it, doesn’t count.
I suppose, in the end, there are just two surprises.
First, that I survived there as long as I did – because it has been obvious that while I think I was doing a more than adequate job, I am at odds with the way the institution behaves. I sort of naively thought I was making it a bit less conformist, but there are limits to that obviously. Second, and even then, being just told by email your course is cancelled, ending a decade long teaching commitment, and without even a word of thanks, really stinks, and makes me livid.
You taught me a few years ago in the College, and I thought you were excellent. The College really needs professors like you, who will encourage students to question things and think differently. It’s disappointing to see the path Kaeding is going down as course director of POL… The whole place is going to the dogs!
Academia has become a funny place for work. The same is increasingly with museums. It started pre COVID with budget cuts, restructuring and it has never stopped since. But to be rude is really not necessary.
That’s a shame Jon! But I definitely agree with the first surprise you mention. As for the second, as a former Academic Assistant, the “not enough demand” song is a classic when making this type of move, but he could have at least try to communicate with care.
I really like the way you described the passive-agressive nature of work relationships!
I had something similar happen to me, but I didn’t even get an email.
You have my sympathy. And well done for speaking out.
Course cancellations by email are common. If you are lucky. Equally being pitted against colleagues to secure one of the newly-created posts is also now normal. What is disappointing is that we are managed by people uninterested in education – particularly critical education.
I do hope that you can find a place where your talents are again appreciated.
Sure, but course cancellations that result in *you no longer teaching at a place at all*? That’s what this results in!
The College offers only one‑year contracts, and you were not a tenured professor. As such, the institution is fully entitled to discontinue a course at its discretion. The expression of gratitude was included in the email; beyond that, you were acknowledged through remuneration for your work. Finally, if you are now so critical of the institution, the real question is why you chose to teach there for ten years.
“The College offers only one‑year contracts, and you were not a tenured professor. As such, the institution is fully entitled to discontinue a course at its discretion.” Thanks for that. I know. I have no entitlement to continue, and nor does the blog post say I do.
“The expression of gratitude was included in the email; beyond that, you were acknowledged through remuneration for your work.” Errr, “thank you for your understanding” is rather thin gruel in terms of gratitude in my book, but hey ho, maybe I’m in the wrong.
“Finally, if you are now so critical of the institution, the real question is why you chose to teach there for ten years.” Given the slavishly loyal tone of your comment, I think perhaps you are misunderstanding something about human motivation. I was teaching there because I had something useful to teach, it was largely appreciated by the students who took the course, and until now I thought it was worthwhile. That was more important than the downsides – the dysfunction of the College of Europe. Now maybe I am wrong, but given the scandals the College of Europe has faced in recent years, and that I CAUSED NONE OF THEM, and even warned about the problems of appointing Mogherini, internally, in the first place, perhaps you might stop and ask whether slavish loyalty is a good thing or not.
And one final idea: maybe you might try this some day, if you ever are a manager of people. Don’t thank them. Don’t motivate them. And then just pay them. Because that’s what your comment is basically implying an institution should do. And if you do do that, just see how well it turns out.
There is nothing resembling slavish loyalty in what I expressed; I was simply stating facts. I also never suggested, anywhere, that people shouldn’t be thanked or motivated. I just don’t subscribe to the idea of biting the hand that feeds us, or of publicly shaming and blaming an institution one has worked for. That approach doesn’t sit well with me, and it only reinforces a sense of ingratitude—something that feels particularly discordant when one is simultaneously criticising a lack of appreciation. For the rest, we can agree to disagree.
Let’s take the counterfactual here: to receive an email like that, and then *not* say anything in public?
Who benefits?
No-one.
The College of Europe would not learn any lesson, and would continue to treat people poorly in these situations.
By publicly calling out bad behaviour there is a chance that some lesson is learned, and it works better for other people in the future. That is how transparency ought to work. There is a lesson in this for the EU as a whole too.
But sure, you carry on behaving in a non-transparent way. You will no doubt go far.
Pretty insane. Online communication is such an important subject. Very sorry to hear!
Also, this goes to show they would really need to improve their online communication at that place.
Jon — sorry you’re going through this. A decade of teaching deserves a conversation, not a paragraph, and the manner really does matter.
What stands out is the missed opportunity. Low attendance is data, not a verdict — it’s a prompt to ask why, and to involve the person who knows the course best. The same goes for the Transport Policy proposal: “many different parameters” is the kind of phrase that functions as a closed door rather than an argument. An institution that genuinely wants to prepare people for EU policymaking ought to model the very practices — consultation, reasoned justification, engagement with outside expertise — that it claims to teach.
The bigger question this raises is about feedback loops. When directness and procedural integrity are treated as inconveniences rather than assets, the culture that gets transmitted to graduates (and from them into the institutions) is one where difficult conversations are handled by email and dissent is quietly routed around. That’s a much larger loss than one workshop, and it connects to why so many European citizens feel the EU talks past them rather than with them.
For what it’s worth, writing this publicly is the right call in my opinion. Patterns like this only change when someone is willing to describe them plainly.