Abstract
I have anxiety and I am not alone, although I have felt that way. Anxiety and depression are mental health issues that impact millions of individuals in our society. While discussions about mental health are improving, insofar as conversations are more frequent particularly during the 2020 to 2021 Coronavirus pandemic, more voices are needed to tell their stories of mental health and actions need to be taken to address systemic issues in a multitude of contexts. My context is that of a tenure-track middle-class white privileged male who began an intense battle with anxiety while undertaking a guest professorship in a foreign country. The autoethnographic narrative presented here is a composition of vignettes from my struggle with anxiety in the 4th and 5th tenure track years. Throughout, I attempt to openly present my struggles and conclude by proposing ways in higher education can aid faculty, staff, and students in creating a better structure.
Proem
I am frozen. I remember the feeling like it is currently happening. I was only 6 years old, and I was very scared. I could not move, I could not breathe. After this happened a few times, my kindergarten teacher and my mom devised a strategy to figure out why I was having these episodes where I would just freeze in stores, in school, wherever. “I think you might have frogs in your stomach,” the psychiatrist says. “Frogs?” I reply. “Yes, frogs. I would like you to draw them for me.” So, I drew frogs. I still remember the frogs and the conversation after. She asked what I was concerned about. I told her: tornadoes, throwing up, and dying. So, every day for the rest of kindergarten, I asked my mom three questions: Are we going to have a tornado? Am I going to throw up? Am I going to die? My mom would simply answer, “Yes.” From there, I would be okay. And I was fine. Until I was 32. ***
The Anxiety and Depression Association of America (2020) estimates that 40 million people in the United States experience an anxiety disorder in a given year. It is very prevalent on our college campuses as well. The American College Health Association (2018) found that more than 60% of college students experienced “overwhelming anxiety” in the past 12 months and 40% felt so depressed they had difficulty functioning. This has only been exacerbated in the last year (2020–2021) during the COVID-19 pandemic, as faculty and students have faced immense pressures associated with school closings, transitioning to online/distance-learning, impacts to research programs, and so forth. In the field of higher education, researchers have attempted to understand stressors of students and, pertinent to this article, faculty. For example, Reddick et al. (2012) examined stressors from the view point of male tenure-track professors dealing with work-life balance issues as husbands and fathers. They found male academics especially struggled with feeling the pull from both sides. That is, if they were working, they felt the need to be home. If they were at home, they felt the need to be working. In some circumstances, their spouse or partner put pressure on the academician, or at least that is the perception of the academician. This in turn stressed the relationship with both work and significant other.
It is important to note that each person lives within their own context of what pressure means and how it feels. The context of higher education within which this stressed relationship occurs is constantly and rapidly changing, particularly in the United States, influenced by the “focus on accountability and individual responsibility” (St. John et al., 2018, p. 1), or what Spooner (2020) among others has referred to as neoliberal audit culture. The design of higher education to become more business/market oriented as quasi-companies (Pucciarelli & Kaplan, 2016) and the increased focus upon defined output metrics to the detriment of social value (Oravec, 2019; Spence, 2019), the prescription of more work for faculty at the same time they are being asked to be “efficient” (Kenny, 2018), value placed on externally funded grants (Bunds & Giardina, 2017), increased criticism from outside academia for “relevance” (Woodthorpe, 2018), and rising costs for students (Friedline et al., 2017), have all contributed to a more burdensome, yet oftentimes ambiguous tenure-track life for faculty whereby institutions seemingly tend to focus on protecting themselves from lawsuits more than support faculty (Diascro, 2019). (To say nothing of the horrors of the at-will, non-tenured, adjunct, precariat faculty).
As Solomon (2011) explains, all of these factors have contributed to faculty struggling with work/life balance and stress—especially of late. Martínez (2018) speaks to this in her article on the tenure track process in the time of Trumpism. She is Latinx in Women’s and Gender Studies and rightfully feels the pressure and concern of being in such a position at this moment in time. She explains, the current political climate in which white supremacists have been emboldened, academic freedom attacked, and funding to institutions of higher education cut has especially negative repercussions for minority academics in largely white institutions. (pp. 110–111)
Reading her work, it seems a bit absurd for me, a cisgender middle-class white male that has had every advantage to succeed given to him, to have the audacity to write about my concerns in my life. There is, to be sure, a biopolitics of privilege (see Bunds, 2014) at work in this case. Yet when I have given versions of this paper at conferences, the feedback I have received inevitably falls on the side of folks saying “I feel like this, too.” So, this is my attempt to speak to this space, whatever criticisms may come for doing so—for they are surely warranted.
In what follows, I provide a series narrative vignettes about negotiating a move to Germany to take a guest professorship at Technische Universität München (Technical University of Munich). It is written against the backdrop of organizing my tenure binder a year later, and the familial pressures (I) exerted on my wife and our two young children as I struggled to make an accounting of myself in order to be as competitive as possible to achieve tenure at my home university. Woven throughout is a discussion of anxiety and depression in higher education, and the need to account for and improve the material conditions of health and wellbeing of faculty and staff. Admittedly, this is also a selfish undertaking. As Denzin (2001) writes, qualitative research is a moral, allegorical, and therapeutic project, with St. Pierre (2011) as well specifically highlighting that writing can be therapeutic and should be treated as such. This is my attempt, then, to better understand and productively come to terms with how I exist in the space of the neoliberal research university, and the ways in which it exerts itself on my subjectivity as a father, husband, friend, and colleague. 1
The Context of Me
My decisions to enter academia were diverse, but a primary driver was to have security in my work-life. My father worked in the television industry my entire life growing up, mostly as a sportscaster. After 25 years, he was fired. I watched my dad struggle for a year while his contract still paid him. He had one dream in life—to become a sportscaster—and he did it. Yet, he was only in his upper 40s and still had close to 20 years left in the workforce. Ultimately, he settled on a job he accepted as “okay,” and is doing fine, but in the same year, one of my best friends’ dad was let go after 34 years of service at a computer company where he was set to receive full pension at 35 years. So, what drove me was job security, and I determined that academia was a good fit, both because of my academic interests but also because the idea of tenure provided some security that I crave as I provide for my wife and two kids. (Though given the political economic context of higher education the present moment, I was perhaps a bit naïve on this point). Simply put, after seeing the impacts of job transition on other, older men I know, I was (and am) afraid of not being secure in my job position—a fear that motivated me in my work-life that I could not get around.
I work in a College of Natural Resources at a state university ranked as a Top 35 public university in the country according to U.S. News & World Report (a point that is not lost on faculty, who are reminded of it to constant public relations effect when the yearly rankings come out). Faculty in my College are expected to publish and, especially, obtain significant amounts of external grant funding. It is not out of the ordinary for faculty in the College to submit ten grant proposals a year, and even with accounting for a decent record of grants received at the time, I was still nervous entering my fourth-year review that I had not “done enough” to impress the Reappointment, Promotion, and Tenure Committee. Thus, I felt the guest professorship in Germany might look good on my CV—adding an “international” achievement or recognition at one of the top ranked universities in the European Union
A colleague there had encouraged me to apply, believing I would be competitive for receiving it. He was right—I received word that the application had been funded about a month before my appointment there was to begin. But life had intervened between when I had applied and when I received successful notice (almost a full year). Namely, my wife Natalie had just given birth to our second child when I found out, and it was increasingly clear that not only would we not be able to afford the entire (and now growing) family relocating to Munich for a semester, but the idea of being in a country with an infant and a toddler when none of us spoke German was too big of an ask of my family to make.
But rather than decline the appointment (which would have been the rational thing to do), we decided I would travel to Munich for 3.5 to 4 weeks at a time and return for 9 to 10 days between trips. This was . . . far from ideal.
Vignette 1: Finding Out
I wake up as Natalie gets Ellie out of her crib located next to our bed, close enough for Natalie to barely have to stand up to get her. Both of the girls are tired and sleep through the breastfeeding. Since having our son Carter almost 3 years ago, I cannot sleep in at all, so I decided to get up and take my shower.
I have a routine before I get in the shower that involves reading my emails. I am very nervous in the morning when I do this. I cannot tell you the number of times I have awakened to an email from an angry boss, a grant rejection, or a manuscript rejection. But, as I do every single day, I wake up with butterflies and still read the emails.
This morning, I opened my email:
Kyle, Great News! We got the University Guest Professorship! Let me know if you are still interested. I am really excited to have you here, even though it is on such short notice.
“Oh, no!” I gasp, audibly. Natalie will not be happy about this.
I had previously applied for a Bavarian State Ministry grant, which was not awarded. Part of the explanation I was given had to do with award criteria, where full professors are prioritized. Whether or not this is true, I felt that this was a good explanation to soften the news, so I accepted it as true (or, at least, something that could be true knowing how most universities prioritize prestige). The University Guest Professorship award also seemed to consider a similar guideline in evaluating proposals, so I’m not sure I ever seriously paused to consider what would happen if I actually received it. It looked good on paper, would look good on my CV, and could be another check in a box that might make me look more “worthy” of being granted promotion to associate professor with indefinite tenure.
This is not the best way to organize one’s life.
I hurry my shower and think hard about what to say to Natalie. I cannot figure it out, but am luckily saved by Carter waking up and yelling out his typical “Daddy” from his full-size, big boy bed. So, I throw some clothes on and take Carter downstairs for breakfast.
As I make our morning breakfast of eggs sunny side up on a piece of toast with milk for him and coffee for me, I feel like vomiting. I feel physically ill. There is no celebration in my mind, only fear that I have done something stupid. Carter is none the wiser—he just enjoys breakfast time with daddy (and because I let him watch Mickey Racers on tv). As he lingers through his breakfast and show, I feel a rush of anxiety and tell him I need to go up and speak to mommy.
I am terrible at lying and hiding my feelings, so Natalie knew something was going on the moment I walked back into the bedroom. Both the girls were much more awake now and I talk to Ellie as my mind is racing.
“Did you buy a new TV or something?”
(Fair guess on her part)
“Haha, no, but could I have?”
“Well, no, but you look guilty”
“Um, (swallowing vomit), so, I was awarded the guest professorship in Munich.”
When she is really upset, Natalie does this thing where she cannot speak. And cries . . . a lot.
My heart sinks.
I knew she would be apprehensive, but I did not think it would be like this. She releases a muted “Congratulations” through the tears.
“I won’t go. We do not have to do this.”
“No. You have to do this. This is what you wanted. We will be okay.”
I certainly do not feel okay as I get called back away by Carter. I have to go to campus and I think that will bring me some relief as my coworkers will certainly be excited for me. (Right?). Again, I am wrong. My coworkers are actually not supportive and worried about this impeding my tenure progress and, frankly, my family life. Even my department head thinks it is a questionable decision, for the same reasons. Put another way, though, they were supportive of me, and worried about me, and were trying to be supportive of Kyle the human being. It is understandable, and in retrospect I am appreciative of what they were saying. But in that moment, I wished they would have viewed it through the eyes of someone who wants to keep his job, wants to do international research, and ultimately wants to be in administration. That is, through my eyes me (or, if we’re playing universal singular, through the eyes of the scared-out-of-their-mind untenured faculty member): Despite the skepticism, I took the guest professorship. Natalie was supportive, but not coming with me. I felt isolated. Because I was. And it was my own doing.
Vignette 2: Death
“What the fuck am I doing?”
I am not trying to be provocative; this is the actual phrase I muttered as I sat on the plane about to take off from Raleigh to Atlanta and on to Munich. I have a wife, a 3-year-old, and a 2-month-old that I love more than anything in the world, but here I am leaving them to go halfway around the world so I can do . . . what? Conduct impactful research? Or get a line-item on my CV, because, why?
Why?
I asked myself this every single day from the moment I learned of the award on March 12 to the day I left for Munich on April 11, and then every day thereafter I was in Munich. In my mind at least, I had rationalized this experience for the purpose of academic appearances (“Hey, look, Dr. Bunds received a prestigious award!”), learning about how other universities work (“This can help further international bonds with scholars and other universities!”), and researching environmental issues around sport and leisure in the German context (“AND I get to do research on a topic I am interested in”). All of these things are (were?) important to me and for my career at that particular moment.
The entire process stresses me out to no end. I feel if I do not get tenure then I have wasted my life, wasted my sacrifices, wasted my privilege, wasted, most importantly, Natalie’s sacrifices. She gave up her desire to be an academic advisor for athletes to take another advising position that she did not like as much—but be paid more—so we could survive on more than my $12,000 a year PhD stipend in graduate school. In fact, she even agreed to move from Oklahoma to Florida with me, unmarried, but engaged, so I could pursue my PhD. Now we are in our seventh year of marriage and have two kids that I am leaving her to care for by herself. So why, exactly, in the fuck am I doing this again?
About 2 weeks after I arrived in Munich, it got worse. I was getting adjusted and I thought that Natalie and the kids were doing pretty well, all things considered. Then, she called me to tell me her grandmother passed away. She had just been given a clean bill of health at the doctor, but came down with pneumonia and a couple days later passed. For me to fly back for two days, it would cost about $3,500. We decided that I would not attend the funeral.
A little over a month later, my mother-in-law called me, her sister had been in a severe accident. I happened to be back in Raleigh and was able to fly with my wife and kids to visit Dibi in Chicago before she passed. Unfortunately, I had to fly back to Munich before the funeral or face a $2,000 rebooking charge.
We decided I would not attend the funeral.
I felt guilty and had the following text exchange with a friend and colleague.
Well, I just left for the Midway airport leaving behind my crying son, daughter, and wife and her Aunt just died. So I win a gold start on the wall of horrible fucking people
Fuck. That’s not a father’s day to remember. How long in Germany this trip?
4 weeks. I get back July 14
The last trip back?
I have 12 days in late August and early September, but yeah last long trip. Fuck me, I really hate myself right now
At least you recognize you feel shitty. A lot of people wouldn’t. Maturity.
Vignette 3: Anxiety Attacks
I made it to Sendlinger Tor, no problem. I took the stairs to the U-4 and waited a few minutes for the train. It is the weekend and fewer trains are operating. All is good. While waiting, I feel my heart skip a beat and start racing faster . . . and faster. I feel as though I might pass out. I think I might be having a heart attack? I sit down on a bench in a panic. My Apple watch tells me my resting heart rate is usually around 55 to 60, but right now, my heart beat is around 150 beats per minute. I try listening to music, I try playing a game on my phone, I try standing up, I try to get on the train, but nothing works. I cannot calm down.
I watch three trains come and go before I ultimately feel stable enough to get on a train. I do not know what is happening, but once I arrive at Marienplatz, I feel okay and go to Schneider Brahaus to get a beer. I try to put it out of my mind and chalk it up to a lack of sleep or something I ate.
* * *
Back home before my last trip! I cannot believe that I am almost done. This weekend, we are getting my baby girl baptized and my parents are visiting. We have some friends coming and I am very excited.
All is well in the morning; we go for our usual Sunday morning biscuits and donuts. I am feeling good as I have Carter dressed and ready an hour before mass and we are well on our way to being there early.
We arrive at the church and go over all of the information, take our place as we are prepared to process in with the priest. . . and my heart skips a beat. My heart is racing, my palms are sweaty, Carter feels heavy in my arms, and my legs start shaking.
I think I’m going to pass out. Or throw up. Or have a heart attack. Or die.
We walk down the aisle and I somehow make it through to get back to our seats. In the pew, my heartbeat is consistently around 140 according to my watch and I am sweating profusely. I don’t know what is happening. I feel like I am going to pass out at some point during the baptism and the rest of mass. I cannot calm down and never really return to normal the entire day. I felt hopeless. 2
Vignette #4: Coping
The panic attack in the church was my tenth that summer. I finally tell Natalie what has been going on. In a way it is cathartic to finally open up and say out loud that I have been feeling like I am dying all summer and I cannot figure out how to stop it. I explain to Natalie that I do not know what is going on. I feel out of control.
I am worried I am making bad decisions for my family.
I am worried I am making bad decisions for me—professionally and personally.
Despite the advice and mentoring I have received along the way, tenure expectations are always murky and, I have heard, fickle.
Despite what I think is a good enough cv, I still wonder whether I will get tenure, wonder how I can do better at getting grants to fund sport management graduate students, wonder how I can exist better in this space.
I struggle to understand my career path, even though my peers say I am doing a great job and I am collecting Early Career Researcher awards.
I struggle to work out and make sure I am not gaining weight. I count every single calorie I intake. I have not picked up a golf club or played basketball in over a year—two things I love to do.
I have an ache in my stomach 90% of the time that I am doing the wrong thing at that particular moment and on more than one day I could not even leave the house. I just paced. Running, should be with my kids; with my kids, should be working; working, should be running. The loop never stops. Please let it stop.
***
We put a plan in place to see a mental health professional and a medical doctor. After meeting with the doctors, they prescribed me Xanax and Zoloft. I have never had to take the Xanax, but I do take the Zoloft daily. It seems to be working, but talking also helps. The way it was explained to me was that I have something in my brain that does not allow me to calm down when I start panicking and the Zoloft helps that. I was having panic attacks when I did not actually feel nervous about situations, or at least I did not think I was nervous. I just felt unworthy. I feared losing everything. Not being there for my kids when they grow up. Sending them to school, I worry about guns because there seems to be a school shooting every week. I worry I am not doing enough to keep them safe.
Coda
For the better part of a few years, I could not shake the feeling that I was never doing enough or the right thing. I knew my life was great and I was afraid of losing it. I felt pressure from the ambiguity of tenure, the guilt of not being a good father, of not being a good enough researcher or teacher, just not being good.
Am I a bad person?
I think I asked myself that very question every night I was away in Germany. But perhaps it is the wrong question to be asking.
The context of higher education is constantly and rapidly changing. As I noted in the introduction, the design of higher education to become more business/market oriented, focused upon defined output metrics, prescribe more work for faculty with fewer resources, externally funded grant reliance, increased criticism from outside academia, and rising costs for students, have all contributed to a more burdensome, yet ambiguous tenure track life for faculty (especially when the tenure system itself is under political fire most of the time it seems).
And I have it good.
I’m one of the lucky ones.
And despite all of my worry and anxiety, I did receive tenure (in 2020).
But that did not make everything magically better.
Talking openly about the panic attacks with a number of friends, family members, and colleagues, who amazingly though perhaps not shockingly, also experience panic attacks, helped. This knowledge both makes me feel more normal and makes me feel bad for everyone. How are our lives, which on the surface might look excellent (or at least normal), causing so much anxiety?
Until I started talking about it, I had never heard anyone else in the academy talk about their anxiety outside of uneasy jokes about too much work, not enough time, and so forth—but the people all around me were experiencing the same thing too. With incidences of student health issues both undergraduate and graduate, faculty and staff must be present voices in this discussion and tell our stories to let students know that they are not alone. We must take up the charge to facilitate health and well-being on our campuses, to take steps to mentor from the other side, not our own world view. I am starting to be able to tell my story and hope to be a cog in the solution to a more humane academia.
To this end I want to end this article with three proposals that I believe are reasonable steps universities can take to aid in the improvement of faculty, staff, and student health and well-being—which is all the more important in the context of COVID-19. I proposed these as a co-chair of my university’s health and well-being programs and services committee with a view of what is possible.
Prioritizing Wellness —Innovative Ways to Make Wellness Part of Faculty and Staff Effort
Research shows wellness in the workplace saves money (Baicker et al., 2010), increases healthy behaviors (Jones et al., 2019), and wellness program participation has been found to increase performance, job satisfaction, loyalty, and decrease turnover (Ott-Holland et al., 2019).
There are reasons to believe that universities are “embracing” health and wellness. At my university, it is part of the strategic plan, for example. However, there is no codification of health and wellness. As Ott-Holland and colleagues (2017) found, employees must participate in wellness opportunities if the benefits of wellness programs are to be realized. Employees of my university have statements of responsibility. Mine is a statement of faculty responsibility which codifies my efforts as 45% research, 45% teaching, and 10% service.
If we are to take health and well-being seriously, I propose that wellness practices should be codified as part of an individual’s effort package. Participating in programs is tracked at the university level and it would be easy to make it anonymous as to what each wellness practices an individual employee attended. Universities implementing this plan must be careful with implementation, however. It would most likely be stigmatizing if this is delivered as a “stick” rather than a “carrot.” Stick policies have been found to be stigmatizing, particularly when incentivizing healthy weight programs (Tannenbaum et al., 2013). Therefore, it might be best to offer voluntary participation in the wellness program whereby, for example, an employee could agree to commit 5% effort to wellness practices, but is under no obligation to choose that option. This is not rare to have varying standards across employees—my colleagues might have an extension percentage, whereas I do not, for example.
An example of prioritizing wellness could be workplace mental health groups. Workplace mental illness is an often-neglected aspect of one’s mental health and wellness (Goetzel et al., 2018). Problematically, due to a number of different reasons, while close to 50% of adults will experience mental illness in their lifetime, only 50% to 60% of those individuals will receive the services they need (Nguyen et al., 2017). Participating in a mental health group in some capacity could act as an aspect of the percentage of effort to wellness practices.
Proper Mentoring—Codifying Mentorship
Chen and colleagues (2015) found that workers enjoyed coming to work when they receive workplace health support from leaders and their employer. Mentorship can lead to advancement in careers and aids in organizational culture (AlShebli et al., 2020). However, it is not to be assumed that leaders and employers are naturally good mentors. In fact, informal and formal mentorship exists in academia and both are seen as important (Jackevicius et al., 2014), but it is not fair to place blame on poor mentors who themselves have never been mentored about being a mentor. If universities expect this, then invest in holistic mentoring.
Similar to the above recommendation, mentorship should be an option area of a faculty members faculty responsibility, perhaps located under research or teaching depending on the emphasis of a faculty members mentorship duties. Thus, the act of mentorship exists as a voluntary option, but with full commitment (Jackevicius et al., 2014). For those that opt-in, mandatory training on mentorship should be required. Yet, mentorship must be counted formally as it is an invisible role that often times is not equally distributed at the university, college, or departmental levels (Woodthorpe, 2018).
Restructuring Priorities —How Do We Allocate Resources?
The current setup for young scholars promotes line straddling and risk aversion (Woodthorpe, 2018), or what Said (1993) in his Reith Lectures criticized as the market orientation of academics that resulted it: thinking of your work as an intellectual as something you do for a living, between the hours of nine and five with one eye on the clock, and the other cocked at what is considered to be proper, professional behavior—not rocking the boat, not straying outside accepted paradigms or limits, making yourself marketable and above all presentable.
That’s what I was doing! Higher education is in flux, ravaged by funding cuts, political priorities, and market forces because of prioritization of commercial values and practice that leave higher education institutions having to provide value at a particular price point, without a true definition or understanding of “value” (Woodthorpe). Woodthorpe maintains that prioritization of business values undermines societal value of learning. She states, “Herein lies one of the key tensions at the heart of contemporary higher education: a misalignment between indicators of quality based on corporate models of productivity and measurement, and the purpose and principle of the individual and societal value of learning . . . ” (p. 6).
In her book Survive and Thrive in Academia, Woodthorpe (2018) continues to provide a solid understanding of the competitive market of higher education with the best universities competing against one another and scholars competing against one another. A key point is how performance is managed. Under increasing scrutiny from outside sources, performance that demonstrates value that the greater public understands as worthy places expectations on all members of the university system—from staff, to faculty, to administrators. In this way, it becomes such that resources are allocated to making sure that research funding, high quality journal publishing, and robust teaching that leads to high student assessments are created. Individually, these are all what should be happening at a university, but they manifest as sticks, not carrots when pay raises or the ability to continue in a position are tied to external metrics and internal competitions. This auditing of individual performance often times acts to “ensure paper trails should anything go amiss rather than demonstrate ‘performance’” (Woodthorpe, 2018). For some, this puts them in a position to decide to be an academic star or a good citizen of the department.
Making individuals choose whether to pursue quality research or respond to a student request or take on the role of performance auditor is counterintuitive to the mission of the institution of higher education. Rather than hamstringing administrators with metrics utilized as sticks, universities, colleges, and departments need to restructure the arguments made to donors, politicians, and those making funding decisions in such a way that helps refocus the mission of universities. If we allow for business principles to drive higher education, then the $5 billion economic impact that my university makes to the state must be maintained. Is that sustainable? Maybe, but when we examine the landscape of the world in 2020 and 2021, is it always possible to increase your economic impact? Probably not. So, university personnel must make new arguments for the value of higher education beyond a market value—showcase how higher education impacts society beyond the financial and performance metrics. If resources can be reallocated from the top down and institutions of higher education can make the argument that education for educations sake impacts society, then, at the university, college, and departmental levels, administrators in charge of auditing performance can spend more time aiding faculty and staff in the research, teaching, and service components that higher education is supposed to serve. In this carrot society with bureaucracy helping, perhaps the well-being of employees can improve.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
