Let me begin the exploration of work–life integration in higher education with two stories, recent and true.

Story 1: I give the key to Elizabeth, and she takes it with a sigh of relief. Elizabeth works full‐time as support staff, and she is pregnant, her baby due in a few weeks. “I will work until my water breaks” she said, because fully paid child leave is not available to her. FMLA will provide 12 weeks of unpaid leave, and for half of this time Elizabeth will use short‐term disability and receive partial pay for six weeks. In any case, she wants to spend all available leave with her baby, and so there is no leave left to enable her to stay home prior to the birth. She is visibly uncomfortable, sitting at a desk for eight hours daily. The key I give her is to my office; I brought in a yoga mat, pillow and blanket so Elizabeth can get some rest every day when she needs it. If Elizabeth lived in Germany, things would be different.

Paid maternity leave is from six weeks before until eight weeks after giving birth, and parental leave can last up to three years for one parent within the first eight years of a child's life. After taking parental leave, the employee has the right to return to work – not necessarily to the same but to an equivalent workplace – and to work part‐time. During pregnancy and for four months after giving birth, an employee cannot be terminated. A partnership bonus promotes the involvement of fathers: for four months, a couple can reduce both their working time and receive a cash bonus. One‐third of fathers in Germany take some kind of paternity leave.

(Hoessle 2016, p.18)

Story 2: Some days ago a few of us university faculty and administrators discussed the fact that a colleague who had just had a baby would have to return to work after staying home for only a few weeks. “We really need child leave policies,” someone said. It struck me then that after all these years, we are still talking about this topic. I have been a faculty member since 1993, have suffered myself from lack of paid child leave when I had my children who are now old enough to vote, and have seen debates flare up and die down about paid child leave and, more generally, paid family and personal leave. Yet my institution and many others continue to have NOTHING in place, except for the provisions granted by the Family and Medical Leave Act (FMLA) of 1993. FMLA is little more than the assurance that people will not lose their jobs if they take 12 weeks of unpaid leave due to a significant life event such as childbirth or adoption. I am not the only one who thinks we have not been able to move the needle in any significant way. Tara Siegel Bernard of The New York Times observed in 2013: “The American situation hasn't materially improved since the landmark Family and Medical Leave Act was signed into law 20 years ago this month by President Clinton.”

(Bernard 2013)

It is a well‐known fact that the United States, including its institutions of higher education, compares poorly with other countries when it comes to family leave. Data compiled by the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) show that, as of 2016, the United States is the only country among 41 nations without any paid leave mandate for new parents (Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development 2016). In 2014, the International Labour Organization (ILO, an agency of the United Nations) found that “[o]ut of the 185 countries and territories with information available, all but two provide cash benefits to women during maternity leave. The two exceptions are Papua New Guinea and the United States” (International Labor Organization 2014, p. 18).

Examples of paid parental leave do exist in the United States. Several corporations offer generous leave programs; Netflix employees, for instance, are able to take unlimited paid parental leave during the first year after a child is born or adopted (Kelly 2015). Apple, Google, Microsoft, Adobe, Amazon, Facebook, and other tech companies, as well as some non‐tech companies, also afford paid leave (Adamczyk 2015). At the state level, New Jersey, California, and Rhode Island have paid leave programs in place; California's Paid Family Leave Act of 2001, to give an example, provides up to 6 weeks of wage replacement to workers who need to care for a family member or who have had or have adopted a child (Employment Development Department, State of California 2017). In addition, the Pentagon makes available 18 weeks of paid maternity and 14 days of paid paternity leave for military families (Ryan 2016).

As far as colleges and universities are concerned, there are some good institutions. They provide paid family leave, spousal/partner hiring, eldercare and childcare support, among other things. Philipsen and Bostic (2010) offer detailed information on select institutions of higher education they consider exemplary.

However, these supports are not uniformly available to every employee, whether in higher education or other economic domains, and that is a problem. At the university level, the lack of adequate, paid child leave is one of many impediments to the careers of academic women, and to some extent men, who seek to have both successful careers and rich personal lives. Work–life integration is as elusive a goal now as it was decades ago; policies and programs in its support are still sorely lacking at all levels, including the federal level and the level of individual institutions. Little progress has been made in advancing work–life integration, which raises the question: Why? Why do we not advance despite the fact that work–life integration remains a goal embraced by many? Using the powerful conceptual framework of Immunity to Change developed by social psychologists Robert Kegan and Lisa Lahey (2009), I will offer some possible explanations for the continuing existence of the status quo and propose some ways to overcome immunities to change.

Faculty Work–Life Integration a Decade Ago and Today

In 2008, I wrote a book about the challenges female faculty face across the career span as they attempt to integrate their personal and professional lives (Philipsen 2008). This work was soon followed by another book adding the perspectives of male faculty on the same topic, and providing information on existing programs and policies offered by “exemplary institutions” across the country (Philipsen and Bostic 2010). Included were innovative practices and policies around tenure stoppage, child leave, childcare, and spousal/partner hiring. Looking back, what was written over a decade ago, reflecting the realities of the time, sounds astonishingly similar to research findings on work–life integration today. Consider the following testimony taken from the 2010 publication (Philipsen and Bostic 2010):

Highly accomplished at midcareer, full professor and department chair at a prestigious research university, Dr. Dennison reached the conclusion that his family is “not coping.” His sixty‐one‐year‐old colleague Professor Rabinowitz looks back and says: “There were times in my career when I simply gave up a personal life.” And Assistant Professor Miller, a productive scholar with a bright future, sums up her feelings: “I would be hard‐pressed to name more than a handful of people in my field total who have thriving personal lives outside of the field.” Such testimony is alarming, and a system of higher education that prides itself on leading the world can and must do better.

(p. xvii)

Compare these quotes with a 2017 publication in which, once again, scholars at various career stages describe their experiences with work–life integration (Philipsen et al. 2017):

Says a doctoral student: “It has also become clear that the idea of ‘having it all’ is not possible, at least not having it all at once. Instead, it seems that there are continual sacrifices, requiring I accept a slightly compromised vision of myself, rather than the one I envision if I could be the ‘ideal doctoral student’ or the ‘ideal mother’.”

Says a full professor at mid‐career stage: “Family crises did not stop just because I entered the mid‐career phase. And yet, not only are there still no policies or programs in place to allow for family leave in case of significant life events, the institutional ethos implies that senior faculty are automatically and always ‘on top of their game’.”

Says an associate professor at late‐career stage: “At 70, I'm a full‐time mother again, grandmother, and still a full‐time faculty member. University policies and practices do not recognize care‐giving responsibilities at this late career stage. They are neither family‐friendly, nor life‐friendly” (p. 635)

The same publication draws the conclusion that, in 2017, “true progress will require society and employers to value the work of caregiving and actively support all parents as they seek to make the best decisions for their families. Creating an environment in which all persons can thrive as parents, employees, and citizens must be a distributed and socially shared responsibility, which will yield socially shared benefits” (Philipsen et al. 2017, p. 633).

Current literature reads astonishingly similarly to my work of over 10 years ago. It is clear that women, in particular, remain disadvantaged by lacking work–life integration support. As recently as 2016, it was found that women face barriers to academic leadership positions, one of which continues to derive from being the primary caretaker of children (Howe‐Walsh and Turnbull 2016). Or, as another source argues, “Women with children see themselves as less valued and recognised by the institution and perceive their wellbeing is less cared about. Institutions need to be mindful of the impact these factors can have on women's career aspirations” (Howe‐Walsh et al. 2016, p. 60). More generally, it can be said that “if institutions of higher education are invested in thriving and productive faculty across the career span, they must improve conditions that allow all genders to craft integration throughout their careers, recognizing the institutional and structural factors that continually impact faculty lives, careers, and well‐being” (Philipsen et al. 2017, p. 642).

One might ask how work–life integration compares across professions. Is there something about higher education careers that makes it particularly necessary for faculty to demand an improvement in this area? In response, I would argue that: (i) I do not think that higher education is the only societal sector that needs to attend to work–life integration; (ii) however, there are characteristics of faculty careers that are different from most other professions and make certain work–life integration policies particularly important; and (iii) higher education has the potential to be a leader in progressive policies. Let me elaborate on all three points.

As already illustrated, work–life integration is a challenge for all economic sectors in the United States due to the extreme backwardness of laws, policies, and programs in comparison to much of the rest of the world. Those employed in other economic domains face many of the same problems as university faculty, and work–life integration is by no means a challenge confined to higher education (Donovan 2016). However, in some ways the faculty career is unique. The most obvious difference between faculty and other careers resides in the “up‐or‐out” nature of life on the tenure track. The probationary period, furthermore, tends to be inflexible and time‐restricted, typically to between 5 and 7 years. This presents a particular challenge for women, because their tenure‐earning years often coincide with their last childbearing years; their biological and their tenure clocks are ticking simultaneously. However, hardly any institution of higher education offers part‐time tenure work or solid leave options, and tenure‐clock stoppage continues to be both stigmatized and lacking in “empirical evidence showing that these policies help women” (Antecol et al. 2016, p. 1). Therefore, women more than men face the decision to either have children or pursue tenure‐track careers. Tenure‐track careers, however, offer more stability and long‐term security than any other appointments. In sum, the unique nature of the faculty career provides an argument for the need for solid work–life integration support.

In addition, institutions of higher education should be the leaders in work–life integration and other life‐enhancing initiatives. I would like to quote my own work, still relevant today (Philipsen and Bostic 2010):

Colleges and universities, for one, are intended to be places where new knowledge is sought, and they are meant to generate life‐altering insights that ultimately improve people's lives. Such knowledge is neither exclusively created in laboratories nor in the professor's study. It is also derived from lived experience, and for that reason institutions of higher education are well positioned to serve as social laboratories where cutting edge policies are tried and tested. Those policies might well make people not just happier, and happiness is an essential human aspiration (Noddings 2003), but also more productive, if one wants to apply human capital theory. By adopting and implementing such policies, universities and colleges would no longer lose talented people who are significant investments, nor would they need to worry about clogged recruiting pipelines caused by their inability to compete with more family‐friendly workplaces. They would not lose the talented scholar whose partner was not accommodated, nor would they lose the nationally known researcher who could not see herself on a campus without child care, leave policies, and career flexibility. Neither would they see the productivity rate of their accomplished faculty drop because there is no assistance with elder and family care, and they would not put end‐of‐career faculty into awkward positions because there is no flexible retirement plan. Institutions of higher education are part of a larger community, in short, and well positioned to serve as examples of what is possible. (p. 112)

To summarize, work–life integration in higher education, as well as in many other economic domains, remains inferior in the United States when compared to other nations. It has not markedly progressed over time. And while institutions of higher education ought to be expected to lead the nation in innovative programs, policies, and practices, and the faculty career is in some ways uniquely demanding of work–life integration, very little advancement can be reported. And all of this despite the fact that work–life integration (or “balance,” as it is still frequently called) is hardly ever opposed as a goal. Both the formal literature and informal conversations are full of examples of people calling for work–life integration, attesting to the dampening effect of its lack on both productivity and quality of life, and lamenting the fact it is so difficult to achieve. So, what is going on? Why do we witness explicitly stated improvement goals and repeated calls for change, and yet so little progress? The following section offers an explanation.

Immunities to Change

As the previous section illustrates, organizational change can be slow, and academe is no exception. Much has been written and spoken about institutional initiatives stalled by various forms of resistance (Kezar and Lester 2011). The resistance to change phenomenon is not limited to institutions of higher education. Organizational change has been the subject of countless books and articles in the past 75 years, beginning with the seminal work of Kurt Lewin (1951), followed by such theorists as Chris Argyris et al. (1985), Warren Bennis et al. (1985), Peter Senge (1990), and Ronald Heifetz (1994). Each subscribed to a central tenet: to actuate change, an agent of change must first identify the key barriers to progress, then systematically remove or weaken those barriers.

This simple truism held sway until psychologists Robert Kegan and Lisa Lahey (2009) introduced the concept of Immunity to Change. They suggested that simply identifying barriers is not enough because even individuals and groups with a real commitment to change may face barriers that are difficult to identify and dislodge. These barriers exist for valid reasons and are a sign of built‐in “immunities.” Immunities exist because, while individuals or organizations may have commitments to change, they may also unwittingly have competing commitments that undermine their change goals.

Based on decades of research on adult learning, professional development, leadership, and change, as well as work with people who seek to change themselves or their institutions, Kegan and Lahey (2009) argued that individual beliefs and collective organizational mindsets work together to create immunities to change, and designed a five‐step process that diagnoses such immunities. The following is an example of how the process works. It reflects work I did with faculty of an academic department who had long identified an improvement goal and yet found that they collectively operated in ways that undermined it.

• Step 1 (Identify an improvement goal): Recruit and retain diverse students.
• Step 2 (Identify behaviors that undermine the goal): Use GRE cut‐off scores. Adhere to internal and external policies that are exclusionary.
• Step 3 (Identify the fear that drives this behavior): Faculty worry that if they don't use GRE cut‐off scores, students will not be successful, will not have enough support to be successful, and thus will be a drain on resources. Faculty further worry that not using GRE cut‐off scores will damage the reputation of the program.
• Step 4 (Identify the competing commitment at work): Faculty are committed to a program with a good reputation, high student graduation rates, and student success.
• Step 5 (Identify the “big assumption” behind this immunity to change): Changing the behavior puts the program at risk. The department might disintegrate or cease to exist. Students who don't meet the criteria will fail.

Once the diagnosis is complete, faculty test the validity of their “big assumptions” and learn that their fears may be unfounded and that they might be able to honor both commitments (the change goal and the competing commitment) without engaging in the behaviors that undermine the former. Consequently, they are able to effectively address their immunity to change.

I have used this analytical process, Immunity to Change, in a case study at the pseudonymous Metropolitan University (MU) to help me understand why, despite expressed change goals geared toward improving work–life integration, MU is not successful in reaching its goals. The specific goals are spousal/partner‐hiring programs and paid family leave policies, both part of enhanced work–life integration for university faculty.

Case Study: Immunity to Changing Work–Life Integration at Metropolitan University

MU is a large urban university located in the southeastern United States that serves over 30 000 students. Similar to many universities both within the United States and abroad, MU can be characterized as a “striving” Institution, defined as an institution that engages in “the pursuit of prestige within the academic hierarchy” (O'Meara 2007, p.122). Historically, MU's primary focus has been on teaching and service, but over the last decade or so, the emphasis has turned to scholarship. As a result, MU has recently been classified as a “doctoral university with highest research activity,” according to the Carnegie Classification of Institutions of Higher Education (www.carnegieclassifications.iu.edu). As stated earlier, this type of effort to “rise through the ranks” and outperform others, be they institutions, states, or countries, is neither novel nor unique. In the European context, for example, almost two decades ago, “at Lisbon in 2000, European Heads of State solemnly attested that they would get their countries to make Europe that most competitive region in the world by 2010 by means of an extensive knowledge infrastructure‐an empire of the mind” (Ritzen 2009, p. 25).

Consistent with its changing mission, MU has dedicated itself to recruiting and retaining excellent and (to match student composition) diverse faculty. Faculty diversity, however, has been difficult to achieve – a challenge that is well known and documented, as shared by institutions across the country (Whittaker et al. 2015; Chronicle of Higher Education 2017). Despite major efforts and numerous initiatives, faculty members in many disciplines – and particularly at higher ranks – remain overwhelmingly White and male. And while attractive work–life integration policies and programs would help attract and retain diverse faculty, women in particular, MU's performance in this domain remains spotty – a problem that is not unique to MU, but documented at universities throughout the United States (Philipsen and Bostic 2010; Ward and Wolf‐Wendel 2012).

Work–life integration policies and programs exist only in pockets of the university. The MU Medical College campus, for example, is partially supported by a productive health system, and its faculty benefit from programs – related to child‐ and eldercare – unavailable to the rest of the university. Likewise, the College of Humanities and Sciences offers paid pre‐tenure child leave, but that support is unavailable elsewhere.

In addition to anecdotal evidence pointing to productive faculty members leaving the institution because of lacking programs and policies, faculty have expressed their misgivings about inadequate work–life integration support in climate surveys. A 2015 Collaborative on Academic Careers in Higher Education (COACHE) survey at MU revealed that, when compared to faculty at peer institutions, areas of concern for faculty in general, and for women in particular, are spousal/partner‐hiring support and family medical/parental leave. Faculty overall are concerned whether MU is doing what it can for work–life compatibility. Starkly, relative to peer institutions and to institutions surveyed, more pre‐tenure faculty and faculty of color at MU are concerned about finding the right balance between their professional and personal lives. In sum, these data indicate a weak capacity to attract and retain diverse, high‐quality faculty – especially women, who continue to be disproportionately affected by work–life conflict (Philipsen 2008; Mason et al. 2013). On a larger scale, the fact that questions about work–life compatibility have been incorporated into the nationally administered COACHE survey shows the relevance of this issue at the national level, indicating that work–life compatibility is not a problem unique to MU.

Given that spousal/partner hiring and child leave were two of the named areas of concern for faculty, I decided to delve more deeply into the question of what might be holding MU back from improving these two domains. Using the Immunity to Change theory as a guiding framework, I conducted structured interviews with “information‐rich” individuals who had a long history as change agents at the university. The following sections report what they had to say about each change domain.

Conclusion

As illustrated in this chapter, work–life integration continues to be an elusive goal for many in the United States, including university faculty. Laws, policies, programs, and practices that facilitate work–life integration, such as paid family leave, pale in comparison to those in other countries. There are many reasons for this, including a comparatively weak general welfare system. Comparing welfare‐state attitudes in Germany, Norway, and the United States, Andreß and Heien (2001) argue that in the United States, as well as Canada, Australia, and New Zealand, “the market plays the dominant role in the distribution of resources. Welfare provisions by the state are minimal and restricted to those who have proven need” (p. 342).

The broader national context matters greatly for individual institutions, including institutions of higher education. To be sure, measures that would aid work–life integration, such as paid child leave, have made it to the platforms of political candidates running for national office. Hillary Clinton, for example, called for paid family leave as part of her 2016 presidential bid (Office of Hillary Rodham Clinton 2017). Nevertheless, as a nation, we are far from realizing sound work–life integration measures. Given the lack of national momentum, it is up to individual institutions to advance the agenda – and some have done so, both in the corporate sector and in higher education. Others, as the case study of Metropolitan University shows, struggle. They may pay lip service to the idea of work–life integration, but they have made little progress over the years in actualizing policies and programs that would help to realize it. In those cases where truncated change originates from competing commitments and underlying assumptions that have not been diagnosed, the Immunity to Change framework may be helpful as a catalyst for lasting change.

To put it differently, when it comes to work–life integration in higher education, change‐resistant cultures are widespread, despite change strategies aimed directly at these challenges. It follows then that for transformative change to occur, one must first work on what makes resistance to change so intractable and find a way to stimulate personal and organizational learning.

Grounded in the belief that the ownership of MU's seemingly intractable problem of immunity to change rests with the whole academic community, the Immunity to Change process could be used as a catalyst for transformative learning there. Through the Immunity to Change process, MU community members would learn how they have contributed to creating immunities through competing commitments, an unconscious defense mechanism that protects the organism from a perceived threat. Awareness that an immunity can stall or prevent desired progress unleashes the potential for genuine, transformative change (Fisher et al. 2003). I am using the term “transformative” quite deliberately. Kegan (1994) and Torbert (2004) have noted that new perspectives allow something that was previously unseen (the competing commitment) to become visible and therefore actionable.

According to Kegan and Lahey (2009), transformative change begins with a group of people identifying the competing commitments and big assumptions that undermine what they want to accomplish. Taking action to weaken the power of a group's competing commitments and big assumptions, then reflecting on and evaluating the impact of that action, leads to organizational learning (Argyis and Schon 1997). Organizational learning in turn leads to cultural change; that is, changes in shared experiences, perspectives, and norms (Schein 1990). Development of both formal and informal leaders leads to structural changes that will be supported by the evolving culture (Midgley 2000; Bochman and Kroth 2010).

Certainly, the Immunity to Change framework is no silver bullet that, once employed, will magically transform institutions of higher education in ways that guarantee exemplary work–life integration policies and programs. It is, however, an analytical tool that has the potential to shed light on why little progress has been made in that direction over the years. Once this has been accomplished, colleges and universities may be able to glean new insights into how to break the current stasis and move toward more successful work–life integration. While American institutions of higher education have a long way to go before they have caught up with the supports available in many other nations, they could become a model of innovative thinking about how to initiate and sustain institutional transformation by overcoming immunities to change.

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