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Inclusion without structural change: what neurodiverse academics tell us about inequality in higher education

by Eleni Meletiadou

The blog is based on the recent outputs from our COST ACTION CA20137 VOICES project entitled: ‘Lived Experiences of Neurodiverse Academics and Early Career Researchers in Higher Education: Identifying Structural Barriers and Pathways to Inclusion.’

Introduction

Higher education institutions across Europe increasingly emphasise equality, diversity, and inclusion, yet neurodiversity remains unevenly addressed within academic career structures. While universities have developed policies to support disabled and neurodiverse students, far less attention has been given to the experiences of neurodiverse academics, particularly early-career researchers and women. As a result, inclusion is often framed as an issue of individual adjustment rather than institutional design.

This blog presents findings from a qualitative survey conducted as part of the work of the VOICES COST Action, which examines inequalities affecting Young Researchers and Innovators (YRIs) from a gender perspective and promotes dialogue between researchers, institutions, and policy-makers across the European research ecosystem. The project explored the lived experiences of neurodiverse academics in higher education to identify structural barriers and inform policy and practice.

The findings suggest that, despite the growing visibility of neurodiversity, academic systems continue to be shaped by narrow assumptions about productivity, communication, and career progression. These assumptions can disadvantage those whose cognitive styles or working patterns do not align with dominant norms, particularly in contexts characterised by high workload, precarity, and informal career expectations.

Academic norms and the persistence of the ‘ideal worker’ model

Participants in the survey frequently described academic work as governed by implicit norms rather than transparent criteria. Expectations related to teaching, research, administration, and collegiality were often perceived as unclear, variable, and dependent on departmental culture.

Previous research has shown that academic environments tend to reward constant productivity, long working hours, and high levels of self-management, reflecting what has been described as the ‘ideal worker’ model. These expectations can create difficulties for academics whose cognitive styles involve fluctuating concentration, sensory sensitivity, or the need for predictable routines.

Respondents highlighted challenges associated with unpredictable workloads, competing deadlines, and the pressure to remain constantly available. Conferences, meetings, and networking events were also described as demanding environments, particularly when participation required rapid communication, multitasking, or tolerance of sensory overload.

Such findings indicate that the difficulties experienced by neurodiverse academics are not simply individual challenges but are closely linked to the way academic work is organised. Consistent with the objectives of the VOICES COST Action, inequalities affecting early career researchers often arise from structural features of the research environment rather than from personal limitations.

Intersectional inequalities: neurodiversity, gender, and career stage

The survey also revealed that neurodiversity intersects with gender and career stage in ways that intensify disadvantage. Early career researchers on temporary or part-time contracts reported reluctance to disclose neurodivergence or request adjustments due to concerns about job security and professional reputation.

These findings align with existing research showing that precarious employment conditions are common in early academic careers and can discourage individuals from seeking support. When career progression depends on short-term contracts, publication output, and informal recommendations, academics may feel pressure to conform to existing expectations even when these expectations are difficult to meet.

Female participants described additional pressures related to expectations of organisation, emotional labour, and collegial behaviour, which have been widely documented in studies of gender inequality in academia. These expectations were perceived as particularly demanding in environments where workloads are high and institutional support is limited.

From the perspective of the VOICES COST Action, such findings highlight the importance of examining inequalities through an intersectional lens. Neurodiversity does not operate in isolation but interacts with gender, career stage, and employment conditions to shape academic experiences.

Inclusion policies and the gap between commitment and practice

Most respondents reported that their institutions had formal equality, diversity, and inclusion strategies. However, the implementation of these policies was often described as inconsistent. Support frequently depended on individual supervisors, line managers, or departmental cultures rather than on clear institutional procedures.

Participants noted that adjustments were typically provided only after formal disclosure, placing responsibility on individuals to identify their needs and request support. This approach can be particularly challenging for neurodiverse academics, for whom disclosure may involve perceived professional risks.

Research on disability and inclusion in higher education has shown that institutional responses often focus on individual accommodations rather than structural change. While accommodations are important, they do not address the underlying assumptions about productivity, communication, and career progression that shape academic work. The findings of this study suggest that inclusion policies may have a limited impact if they are not accompanied by changes to workload models, evaluation criteria, and organisational culture.

Implications for policy and institutional practice

The qualitative data point to several areas where institutional policy could better support neurodiverse academics and early career researchers.

Greater transparency in workload and progression criteria

Clear expectations regarding teaching, research, and administrative responsibilities can reduce uncertainty and support fairer evaluation. When criteria are implicit, those who struggle with informal norms may be disadvantaged.

Flexible and predictable working practices

Flexible deadlines, structured communication, and predictable scheduling can support a wider range of working styles without lowering academic standards. Such measures may benefit many staff, not only those who identify as neurodivergent.

Training for academic leaders

Supervisors, heads of department, and line managers play a key role in implementing inclusion policies. Training that increases understanding of neurodiversity can help ensure that support is applied consistently and fairly.

Mentoring and peer support networks

Structured mentoring programmes can reduce isolation, particularly for early-career researchers and women. Informal support networks were frequently described by participants as essential for coping with the demands of academic work.

Dialogue beyond the institutional level

In line with the aims of the VOICES COST Action, improving inclusion requires discussion not only within universities but also at national and European policy levels. Research evaluation frameworks, funding structures, and career pathways all shape the conditions in which academics work and therefore influence who is able to succeed.

Towards more inclusive research environments

The findings presented here indicate that neurodiversity in higher education continues to be addressed primarily through individual adjustments rather than structural reform. Academic career systems remain shaped by implicit norms that privilege particular working styles and disadvantage those who do not conform to them.

If universities are to meet their commitments to equality, diversity, and inclusion, neurodiversity must be considered within broader discussions of precarity, gender inequality, and the sustainability of academic careers. Creating more inclusive environments requires not only support for individuals but also critical reflection on the assumptions that underpin academic work.

As initiatives such as the VOICES COST Action emphasise, meaningful change depends on sustained dialogue between researchers, institutions, and policy-makers. Without such dialogue, there is a risk that inclusion will remain a policy aspiration rather than an everyday reality.

Higher education has the opportunity to move beyond reactive accommodations towards more inclusive structures. Doing so is not only a matter of fairness but also essential for retaining talented researchers whose contributions may otherwise be lost to systems that remain insufficiently flexible to support diverse ways of thinking and working.

Dr Eleni Meletiadou is Associate Professor (Teaching) at London Metropolitan University and a Principal Fellow of the Higher Education Academy. Her research focuses on equity, diversity, and inclusion in higher education, with particular emphasis on neurodiversity, gender equality, digital pedagogy, and education for sustainable development. She leads the Research Group on Inclusive Learning, Transnational Education and Academic Sustainability (RILEAS) and the Gender Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion (GEDI) Research Group. Her work has been recognised with the British Academy of Management Education Practice Award (2023) and includes several European and international projects on inclusive assessment, AI in higher education, and widening participation. She is an active member of COST Actions examining inequalities in the research ecosystem and the impact of digital transformation on higher education. Her research interests include organisational change in universities, inclusive curriculum design, early career researcher development, and socially just approaches to teaching and learning.

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/dr-eleni-meletiadou/


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“Network Rail”: postmodern irony defined

by Paul Temple

We left the pub in good time to walk to Waverley station to catch the 18.52 Avanti West Coast train to Euston. The departure board told of signalling problems on the East Coast mainline, but as we weren’t heading for King’s Cross that didn’t bother us. We even remained relaxed when the display didn’t give a platform for our train, as it was still shown as being on time. Until it wasn’t. Damage to the overhead wires just south of Carstairs Junction meant that no trains from either Edinburgh or Glasgow could travel south on the West Coast mainline. A broken-down train in the Scottish borders added to the fun. The apocryphal London newspaper headline, “Fog in the Channel, Continent isolated”, came to mind, but black humour about England being cut off took us only so far. Railway staff advice varied between “Wait to see if trains start running” and “There may be a rail-replacement bus to Manchester” – I thought, wouldn’t a hot-air balloon be a more realistic option?

There was certainly no shortage of railway staff on the Waverley concourse that evening: the crews of non-running trains gossiping among themselves; station staff in high-vis jackets with not much to do; bored-looking coppers … what there wasn’t was anyone who looked as if they might be doing a spot of managing, perhaps even providing up-to-date news to a generally good-humoured crowd of would-be travellers. It wasn’t hard to understand why this element was missing: the situation involved four train companies, Network Rail fixing (we hoped) the overhead wires and the signalling, and another part of Network Rail running the station. Take a look at the Network Rail organisation chart and tell me whose job it would be to take action over the effective closure of the main station of Scotland’s capital.

Not that long ago, there was a notion that higher education might work better if universities were ”unbundled”, to use the then-fashionable term. After all, went the argument, university finance or HR departments aren’t specialists in medieval history or particle physics, so they could provide professional services to random academic departments from what are currently different universities, so gaining economies of scale. Potential history students would be unlikely to be interested in a physics course, so why make them apply to an institution teaching a range of subjects? Let academic faculties do their own things in teaching and research, paying for the support services they need from the fees they receive, from whichever providers of services and infrastructure can offer the best deal. The academic units that prove to be good at operating in this new environment will grow, others will fail, but overall students, and some staff members, will benefit. The comprehensive, unitary university, went the argument, was a carry-over from the days of small, elite institutions, outdated in today’s mass higher education environment, and missed important efficiency gains. Modern corporations generally outsource non-core functions such as logistics and property services; academic units could do likewise. (Older readers may recall that the late Charles Handy described the unbundled corporation, employing a minimal group of core staff, on these lines.)

The case for the break-up of British Rail in the mid-1990s was, as I recall, less sophisticated than this, relying largely on lazy thinking about the supposed bureaucratic inflexibilities of state-owned businesses. There was certainly no suggestion then of state rail companies from other European countries becoming shareholders in the new UK train companies, in most cases receiving substantial subsidies from British taxpayers. The results of unbundling in the rail industry were on display during my recent prolonged stay at Waverley station: what privatisation had apparently overlooked is that railways are network organisations, where each element interacts with many others, and the failure of one ripples out across the network. Burton Clark in his 1983 classic, The Higher Education System, argued that the idea of integration was central to understanding how universities worked; they “symbolically tie together their many specialists” (p136): they are, in other words, network organisations, not simply collections of different disciplinary groups. We shall have to see if the promised Great British Rail can recapture the benefits of an integrated organisation, with managers having the responsibility for the functioning of the whole network, not just one part of it. Perhaps some university managers could offer advice.

SRHE Fellow Dr Paul Temple is Honorary Associate Professor in the Centre for Higher Education Studies, UCL Institute of Education.


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To ‘think like a lawyer’: some thoughts on the pedagogy of international law

by Paolo Amorosa & Sebastián Machado

Most law professors face a similar challenge when designing their courses: how to explain to students the enduring gap between what the law says and how it functions in reality. One of the foundational assumptions of legal education is that law is more than just the written rules found in statutes, bills, or constitutions. Without an understanding of how these rules influence a judge’s decision-making, they remain little more than pretty playthings: abstract ideas with no real-world impact. This realist approach in domestic legal education helps bridge the divide between legal theory and practice; the same arguments might apply in most disciplines and fields with a similar divide between theory and practice. If you can examine a rule and confidently predict how it will be applied, you are engaging in the most basic form of legal research. But consider a legal system without a centralised rule-making authority or a single, binding interpreter – no supreme legislature or final court to settle disputes definitively. This is the reality of international law. While there are many judicial and quasi-judicial bodies, there is no universal, mandatory forum for resolving disputes, and most conflicts never reach a formal judgment. Instead, states, international organizations, and individuals all contribute to shaping the rules by advocating for their preferred interpretations, hoping to sway the broader consensus. International lawyers refer to this evolving consensus as the ‘invisible college of international lawyers’, a term that captures the discipline’s informal, socially constructed boundaries. In essence, international law is what international lawyers do.

Teaching international law, then, comes with an added layer of complexity: the lack of formal structures undermines legal certainty. Every international lawyer, to some degree, can influence the field. Through journal articles, blog posts, social media debates, or legal practice, they argue for their version of the correct interpretation of a rule. Academics may even challenge established meanings, making persuasive cases that defy the literal text of foundational documents like the UN Charter.

This is why international lawyers often say that the law is made, not found. Unlike domestic legal systems, where rules are either codified (as in civil law) or derived from judicial precedent (as in common law), international law is fundamentally discursive. This creates a twofold problem. First, without an authoritative interpreter, there is no clear way to separate theory from practice. A legal advisor in a Foreign Ministry might frame a state’s actions as part of a new trend that modifies a rule (such as pre-emptive self-defense), while others denounce it as a violation (like Article 51 of the UN Charter). In this environment, the line between legal theory and practice dissolves. Second, with no objective boundaries to the discipline, the distinction between mainstream international law and critical approaches collapses. What remains is the professor’s choice: which version of the law to teach.

Yet teaching international law does not require taking a stance on the theory-practice divide, because that divide is not inherent to the discipline. Law professors are not bound by the same rigid distinctions as, say, natural scientists, who must separate theoretical models from empirical observation. Instead, legal education can bypass this dichotomy entirely by focusing on the deeper conditions that shape how we understand both theory and practice. Rather than treating practice as a constraint on theory, students can learn to apply theoretical insights pragmatically. This approach allows law schools to teach practical skills without forcing an artificial separation between legal thought and legal action, following larger trends in pedagogical training outside legal academia.

Still, many international law professors struggle with curriculum design because of these perceived divides. On one hand, students must master a baseline of doctrinal knowledge to enter legal practice. On the other, mere knowledge acquisition is not enough – students must also develop the ability to analyse, synthesise, and critically evaluate legal arguments. A well-rounded legal education should cultivate these higher-order skills, enabling students to engage in meta-cognitive reflection about the law they are learning.

Moreover, there is no strong evidence that ‘thinking like a lawyer’ is a unique cognitive skill. Legal reasoning shares much with other forms of reasoning, meaning that better teaching methods alone will not necessarily produce better lawyers. Instead, what matters is equipping students with evaluative tools to interpret and refine legal arguments. By treating core legal knowledge as a foundation rather than a rigid boundary, and critical thinking as a method for engaging with that knowledge, the supposed divide between mainstream and critical approaches begins to fade.

The same logic applies to the theory-practice debate. The tension between these approaches persists only if we assume they are mutually exclusive. Law schools often face criticism from practitioners who argue that graduates lack practical skills, while academics defend the importance of theoretical training. But must these roles be in conflict?

Perhaps the real issue in international law is not the existence of these divides, but our insistence on treating them as inevitable. If there is little evidence that ‘thinking like a lawyer’ is a distinct cognitive skill, there is even less reason to impose it as a rigid framework for international legal education. Instead, we might focus on cultivating adaptable, reflective practitioners who can navigate both theory and practice – not as opposing forces, but as complementary dimensions of the same discipline. This is a lesson relevant for many if not all professional disciplines.

Sebastian Machado Ramírez is Postdoctoral Researcher at the University of Helsinki, where he works on the PRIVIGO project examining private governance and international law. He holds a PhD from the University of Melbourne, where his dissertation analyzed interpretive approaches in the law governing the use of force.

Paolo Amorosa is University Lecturer in International Law at the University of Helsinki. He holds a PhD from the same institution and specializes in the history and theory of international law and human rights. His monograph Rewriting the History of the Law of Nations (OUP 2019) critically re-examines the ideological foundations of international law’s canon.