You All Treat Me Like
the Junior Scientist
By John Foley
June 2000
John E. Foley, Ph.D. worked at Los Alamos National Lab for 25 years,
where he held positions as a research scientist, technical manager and Director
of Human Resources. He is currently an independent consultant, writer,
teacher and scholar in ethics, with an emphasis on workforce diversity.
ALL EMPLOYEES believe that merit
should lead to success and reward. This
belief is one of the most fundamental and
important tenets of the work-place and is
referred to as “colorblind meritocratic fundamentalism.”
Under this tenet, research and
development organizations “strive to maximize
the production of valuable knowledge and also
to reward and empower individual merit.” In
addition, the “race, sex, class, and indeed all the
other personal attributes of the [employee] are
irrelevant.” (Kennedy, pp. 709-710).
Most white male managers and employees
(the “dominant cultural”) strongly believe in this
fundamental tenet and feel there are few, if any,
barriers to success because of race, sex, class, or
age. They believe success is earned through individual
effort and hard work, and they’re concerned
that efforts to increase diversity in the
workplace through mandated affirmative action
programs undermine this fundamental tenet of
merit and lower standards. Examples of dominant
group beliefs and attitudes are shown in
the model of Fig. 1.
Women and people of color (the “subordinate
culture”) also believe that success should
result from merit and hard work, but many feel
(1) there are institutionalized barriers that limit
their success because of race, sex, and class and
(2) their white male colleagues enjoy unearned
and unmerited privileges, i.e., they feel the fundamentalist
model is too simplistic, incomplete,
and unfair. Their more complex views and
beliefs are shown in the model of Fig. 2 (page
10), which includes the barriers and privileges
that are generally invisible or hidden to members
of the dominant culture.
The institutionalized barriers that women
and people of color experience in the workplace— and the effects of these barriers — are well
documented. For example, the Federal Glass
Ceiling Commission reports:
“The body of research … reveals that in the
private sector equally qualified and similarly situated
citizens are being denied equal access to
advancement into senior-level management on
the basis of gender, race or ethnicity. At the highest
levels of corporations the promise of reward
for preparation and pursuit of
excellence is not equally available
to members of all groups.”
But the institutionalized privileges
that white men enjoy are
rarely discussed or documented.
Fortunately, a small and growing body of literature
exists (see Delgado and Stefancic).
As long as institutionalized, or systemic, barriers
and privileges exist, merit does not necessarily
lead to success — and success does not
always result from individual merit; i.e., merit is
to some extent an illusion.
Institutionalized Cycles of
Oppression and Privilege
In America today, privilege is institutionalized.
I've developed a model (Fig. 3, page 10)
based on the works of Roybal Rose (1996),
Chester (1976) and Wildman (1995, 1996) that
includes both a “cycle of oppression” and a“cycle of privilege.”
The oppression cycle, which is the lower
half of Fig. 3, begins with the dominant group
believing the subordinate groups are inferior,
i.e., less smart, less talented, less
worthy. This belief is then institutionalized
through discriminatory
mechanisms that result in
unfair barriers and dis-advantages
to the subordinate groups.
These mechanisms — i.e., laws,
rules, policies, norms, resource
allocations, customs — are reinforced
by the institutions of society,
such as governments, churches,
schools, organizations, and
families, and lead to economic,
political, and social deficits for
the subordinate groups.
The privilege cycle, the upper
half of Fig. 3, begins with the
dominant group believing it is
superior (e.g., smarter, more talented,
more worthy) to the subordinate
groups (the flip side of
believing that the subordinate
groups are inferior). This belief is
then institutionalized through power structures
that provide unearned and unmerited privileges
and advantages to the dominant group. The
results are economic, political, and social
rewards and benefits for the dominant group.These rewards and benefits then reinforce the
original attitude of superiority.
It is important we understand and examine
both of these cycles. If we look only at the
oppression, or discrimination, cycle we will be
left with the impression that
the dominant culture is “normal”
and the subordinate cultures
are the “other.” Also, by
considering only oppression,
we collude with the power
structures that cause oppression
by making invisible the
unearned privileges and benefits
of the dominant group.
Mahoney (p. 331) points
out that privilege is hidden, or
invisible, to members of the
dominant culture:
“The privilege that facilitates
mobility and comfort in
ordinary life is particularly
difficult for whites to see …
White privilege therefore
includes the ability to not-see
whiteness and its privileges.”
McIntosh (p. 294) suggests
that white privilege is“an elusive and fugitive subject”
and the “pressure to
avoid it is great, for in facing
it I must give up the myth of
meritocracy.” West (pp. 139-
143) notes that in academic institutions hiring,
promotion, and tenure are “based, in part, on
merit, but also on race, gender, class, and a
variety of mis-cellaneous attributes not related
to academic qualifications.”
“You All Treat Me Like
the Junior Scientist”
In the early 1980s, I
became the leader of a
nuclear research group at
the Los Alamos National
Laboratory with about 25
scientists, most of whom,
like myself, were white,
male, 35-45 years old,
and held Ph.D.s in nuclear
engineering or physics.
My involvement in diversity
issues at the time was
primarily legal — we had
affirmative action and
equal opportunity programs
because we were
required to have them.
Soon after I became the leader of this group,
a young (white) woman scientist (I'll call her “Jane”) complained to me, “You all treat me like
the junior scientist.” She felt “junior” because
she was treated differently; for example, she was
never included in planning meetings that the
other scientists attended, she was never invited
to make presentations whenever
our research program was
reviewed, and she never participated
in field exercises when
we tested the nuclear measurement
instruments we designed
and built. Also, she felt her
work as a computer scientist
was viewed as a support role,
rather than as research. In
short, she felt she was being
treated unfairly because she was
excluded from important group
activities. This exclusion was
occurring because she was different
from the other scientists
in the group, i.e., she was
young, a woman, had “only”
a master's degree, was not a
physicist, and was doing support
rather than research. Jane's
situation is shown in Fig. 4
(page 11).
Jane presented convincing
arguments about her unfair treatment
and after several discussions
with her I began to understand
that I'd been oblivious to
the unfairness in our group. Eventually, Jane and I
came to an understanding that I would make affirmative
efforts to include her fully in our group's
activities and opportunities.
It turned out that Jane had tremendous talents
that I hadn't known about and during the
next few years she made significant original contributions
to our research efforts — contributions
that were on a par with those of other scientists
in the group.
I wasn't the only one that saw Jane as “junior,”
we all saw her that way. The barriers —
involving sex, class, and age — were deeply
embedded in the attitudes and beliefs of most
members of the group and were institutionalized
through norms of what a research scientist looks
like. These norms not only resulted in barriers
for Jane, but they also afforded privileges to
those who were white, male, not too young or
too old, physicist, and Ph. D. Both the barriers
and the privileges were largely invisible or hidden
to the dominant members of the group. I
was unaware of these barriers until Jane pointed them out. Unfortunately, it is easy and convenient
to remain unaware or oblivious of them
through mechanisms of denial or blame.
If these barriers had been due only to my
personal prejudice against Jane, then this story
would be one of non-institutionalized oppression,
rather than institutionalized oppression
based on sex, class, and age. But since the beliefs
were deeply embedded in the thinking of the
members of the group, Jane's "junior" status
resulted from institutionalized discriminatory
mechanisms that caused her to be treated differently
from everyone else and to be excluded
from activities and opportunities. This was not
an individual act against another individual, but
the result of institutionalized beliefs that had
been codified in discriminatory mechanisms of
exclusion and marginalization.
Because of my positive experience with
diversity — Jane's story being one example —
I was convinced there was truth in the familiar
argument that a diverse workforce is a better
and more creative workforce. I was able to
move quickly beyond denial and blaming and
became a believer in the utility of diversity in
the workplace. And as the opportunities
occurred, I would lend a hand to help women
and people of color.
“What Have You Done
For Us Lately?”
In 1986 I became the first Director of
Human Resources (DHR) at Los Alamos, and I
was responsible for the human needs of nearly
8000 employees. In this position, I was able —
with the help of many people of good will and
good intentions — to champion the push for a
more diverse workforce.
But by 1989, three years after becoming the
DHR, our diversity initiatives were not going
well. I felt I was under siege from women, people
of color, and my white male colleagues.
For example:
- Women and minority groups: These
groups seemed to demand we do more and
more for them. Every time we did something to
help them, they came back with additional
demands. Our help never seemed to satisfy. It
was as if they were asking, “What have you
done for us lately?” And our answers were
always lacking.
- My white male colleagues: Most white
male managers and employees resented our
diversity initiatives. Some didn’t believe
women and people of color experienced barriers
or unfairness. Others felt that if women
and people of color experienced problems, it
was their own fault. Frequently I was told, “I
came to Los Alamos to do good science, not
social engineering.” Many white male managers
felt our affirmative action efforts were
lowering the quality of the scientific staff. In
addition, they argued that affirmative action
was reverse discrimination.
- My bosses: They wanted
quick fixes to our diversity problems
and concerns; i.e., “What's
taking you so long?” And they
wanted the tensions involving race,
sex, class, age, etc. to just go away.
I didn't like the criticism I was
getting for trying to help women
and people of color, and I was sick
and tired of being viewed as the
bad guy by everyone. I didn't have
a clue as to why our efforts to
establish a more diverse workforce
were floundering. And I didn't
understand that by trying to help
women and people of color, we
were doing diversity wrong.
“We Don't Want Help We Want Justice”
In 1990, I attended a workshop on cross-cultural
communications led by Lillian Roybal Rose.
After the workshop, I had an opportunity to discuss
with her my frustrations in trying
to help women and people of
color. She said (Roybal Rose, 1990),
“John, don't ever do anything ‘to help’ me. If you do, I'll eventually
hate you for it because your
actions will be condescending and
patronizing — and I don't want to
hate you.”
Her comments startled me
because I thought I'd been hearing
women and people of color say,
“What have you done for us lately?”
But from Roybal Rose, I
heard something different.
She explained that dominance
is inherent in the phrase, “to
help,” and it's certainly a large factor
in why our attempts to help
women and people of color are
floundering. And because helping
that comes from dominance is
patronizing and demeaning, then“there is no trust, no respect, no
real liking, on either side” (Roybal
Rose, 1996, p. 28). By “helping”
we are continuing the subtle dominance
(subtle to white males, but
not to women and people of color!) of men over
women, whites over people of color, scientists over non-scientists, etc., which has been going
on at Los Alamos for 50 years.
“We don't want ‘help,’” Roybal Rose said, “we want justice.”
She argued that we both must work for justice.
My role, as a white male with power over
her in the oppressions of racism and sexism, is“to act justly and not dominate,” and for her
part, “I say to white people that I will always see
their humanness even if they never understand
about racism” (Roybal Rose, 1996, p. 42).
Neither of us can shrink from our
commitment to justice, no matter
how tough the struggle becomes.
Jane's Story — Revisited
Before I'd met Roybal Rose,
I'd always thought of Jane's story
as a story about me helping Jane
become a better scientist. But
with new insights, I realized that
Jane's story is not about “helping”
— it is about justice.
When Jane first came to talk
to me, she was concerned about
how we were treating her, i.e.,
about the unfairness of being
excluded from participation. She
wasn't suggesting that her talents
weren't being used (although we
were to discover they weren't),
she was concerned with fairness,
with justice.
And by removing the barriers
to fairness and including her
more in our group’s activities, we
became a more productive group.
Jane didn’t need my help because she lacked talent,
or because she wanted special treatment.
What she needed from me was help in removing
the unjust barriers. And as the leader of our
group, I was in a position of power to do this,
i.e., I was in position to challenge — in a small
way — the prejudiced attitudes and discriminatory
mechanisms of the institutionalized oppressions
(Fig. 3) that were embedded in our group
and throughout Los Alamos.
And now when I discuss Jane's story in terms
of "justice" rather than “helping,” it goes like this:
Jane didn't need my “help,” she needed justice.
And by working for justice, we became
more productive. We also became more diverse.
This leads me to the following conclusion
about how we should think about both merit
and diversity in the workplace:
Justice is a prerequisite for merit. It's also a
prerequisite for diversity.
Justice is the most powerful argument for
diversity because it requires that the institutionalized
system of unfair barriers and unmerited
privileges (i.e., Fig. 2, Fig. 3) be dismantled.
The evolution in my thinking about diversity
is summarized in Fig. 5 (page 11). Initially I was
involved in diversity issues because I was legally
required to do so, based on civil rights laws. I
think of such involvement as “must” do — I had
no choice. Then I learned there were practical
or utility reasons for diversity — it made good
business sense, i.e., it was the “smart” thing to
do. Finally, my understanding moved to ethical
reasons, such as justice — the “right” thing to do. It is only
by dismantling the institutionalized
system of unfair barriers
and unmerited privileges
that we can arrive at a truly
meritorious workplace.
Towards Justice, Merit,
and Diversity
The simplistic view of
merit and success, as shown in
Fig. 1, commonly held by
many white male managers,
involves (1) denial of the
institutionalized barriers and
privileges and (2) blaming of
women and people of color
for their marginal success in
the workplace. These dominant
views are shown as the
two lowest stages of the
model in Fig. 6, which is a
model of personal growth and
commitment to justice. In the
lower stages of this model,
managers are found in three
stages of (mis)understanding of race and gender
issues in the workplace or in one stage of retreat
and withdrawal. These stages are:
Denial: The manager is oblivious to the barriers
and privileges, or he simply chooses to
remain unaware (only members of the dominant
culture have the luxury of such ignorance); i.e.,
“Discrimination is a thing of the past. We live in
a colorblind society. I don't even see color. I've
always been judged by merit, and I only judge
merit.”
Blame: The manager believes that the gender
and race problems in the workplace are caused
by women and people of color; i.e., “They
should just quit being victims and quit complaining.
I've made it by my own efforts — why can't
they? They're getting more favorable treatment.
It's reverse discrimination.”
Helper or “Nice Guy:” The manager understands
that some barriers exist for women and
people of color, and he sincerely wants to help “them;” i.e., “Even though I've never discriminated
against anyone, I feel a little guilty about
the way they have been treated in the past by
others, so I'll help out.”
Retreat and Withdrawal: The manager
becomes frustrated with his efforts to help. He is
criticized by women and people of color for not
doing enough, and, at the same time, he is criticized
by his white male colleagues for doing too
much. Consequently, his feelings get hurt
because he isn't appreciated, and he fears losing
the respect of other white males. Therefore, he
becomes defensive — he begins to pull back
from helping, becomes captive to political correctness,
and numbs out. This is the stage I
discussed earlier concerning my frustrations
about our floundering diversity
efforts at Los Alamos in 1989.
Roybal Rose (1966, p. 42)
points out that these defensive
behaviors of white people, such as
political correctness, lack of spontaneity,
and pulling away, are difficult
for women and people of
color to deal with:
“For People of Color, an
encounter with a white person who
knows what is right but has not
processed it emotionally can be frustrating
and exhausting. Every word,
every signal breeds confusion. Whites
busily guarding a politically correct posture
are impossible to reach on a human level,
because they have an image to protect.”
From Dominance to Diversity
Even though this pattern of denial, blame,
helping, and retreat is com-mon among white
males, it is not inevitable. We can choose to
break the pattern and move into the two highest
stages of Fig. 6. We can move from dominance
to diversity.
Non-dominance or Ethics: The manager
understands that if we want diversity in the
workplace, we must first achieve justice. And
to achieve justice, the manager must become a
just person.
He knows that real merit cannot be achieved
until: (1) the unfair barriers that women and
people of color experience in the workplace are
eliminated and (2) the privileges that white
males enjoy are available to every-one.
This manager understands that in order to
begin to dismantle the institutionalized system,
both personal and collective efforts are necessary.
The struggle to end racism (hooks, p. 195) “… is a struggle to change a system, a structure.… For our efforts … to be truly effective, individual
struggle to change consciousness must be
fundamentally linked to collective effort to
transform those structures that reinforce and
perpetuate white supremacy.”
The collective effort must be directed at all
three components of the institutionalized cycles
of privilege and oppression (Fig. 3), i.e., at prejudiced
attitudes, at imbalances of power, and at
inequitable outcomes.
The process that one needs to go through in
personal effort to unlearn sexism and racism is
both emotional and cognitive. Roybal Rose
encouraged me "not to shrink from the emotional
content of this process." She explained
(Roybal Rose, 1996, p. 42):
When the process is emotional as well as
cognitive, the state of being an ally [to
women and people of color] becomes a
matter of reclaiming one’s own
humanity. Then there is no fear,
because there is no image to tear
down, no posture to correct. The
movement to a global, ethnic
point of view requires tremendous
grieving.
The journey from dominance
to diversity begins with listening.
The white male manager:
- Learns to really listen to
others, i.e., to pay attention
without intention.
- Develops a new sense of personal
honesty and humility about racism, sexism,
and other oppressions, and about the
privileges that he enjoys in the workplace
and in society. He understands “that race
makes a difference in people's lives and that
racism makes a difference in U.S. society”
(Frankenberg, p. 159). He learns that facing
up to one's own biases, prejudices, and privileges
is the beginning of liberation.
- Adopts a deliberate skepticism about his
own ability to make racial and gender neutral
decisions. Involves others — women and
people of color, as well as other white men
— in decision making to uncover institutionalized
barriers and privileges.
- Engages in open and honest discussions
about racism, sexism, and other oppressions
and about privileges with white men, women
and people of color.
- Reads and studies the works of others
who have struggled with unlearning racism
and sexism.
- Seeks out examples of institutionalized
oppressions and privileges in the workplace
and actively works with allies — other white
men, women, and people of color who are
committed to justice — to eliminate them by
changing policies, procedures, beliefs, and
attitudes.
- Discovers white male pride and connects
with the universality of human experience.
And the journey leads first to justice, then to
both merit and diversity.
Personal Commitment: Working with allies,
the manager uses — but not misuses — his position
of power and privilege in non-dominant
ways to work for justice, merit, and diversity in
the workplace. He does this because he understands
the loss to himself and to others caused
by the subtle and not-so-subtle injustices and
privileges in the workplace.
The ethical challenge for white males, and
others in dominant positions, is this: We must
use our positions of power to tear down the
unfair institutionalized systems that gave us the
power in the first place. This is what we must do
if we believe in merit, justice, and diversity in
the workplace. And we will be better off if we
do it. We should not shrink from this challenge,
no matter how tough or uncomfortable the
struggles becomes.
This is a difficult stage for the white male
because he is under tremendous pressure from
his colleagues who are still in the lower stages of
Fig. 6 to return to his earlier dominant attitudes
and be-haviors. He must resists these pressures
by remem-bering that in the long run the (1) dismantling
of the existing system of institutionalized
barriers and privileges and (2) achievement
of merit, justice and diversity are in both
his organization's and his own best interest.
REFERENCES
Mark A. Chesler, “Contemporary Sociological Theories
of Racism,” in Phyllis A. Katz, ed., Towards the
Elimination of Racism, Pergamon Press, New York,
1976, pp. 21-71.
Richard Delgado and Jean Stefancic, Critical White
Studies: Looking Behind the Mirror, Temple Univ.
Press, Philadelphia, PA, 1997.
Federal Glass Ceiling Commission, Good For Business:
Making Full Use of the Nation's Capital, U.S.
Department of Labor, U.S. Government Printing
Office, 1995.
Ruth Frankenberg, The Social Construction of
Whiteness; White Women, Race Matters,
University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, MN,
1993.
bell hooks, Killing Rage, Henry Holt and Company,
New York, 1995.
Duncan Kennedy, “A Cultural Pluralist Case for
Affirmative Action in Legal Academia,” Duke Law
Journal, 1990, pp. 705-757.
Martha R. Mahoney, “The Social Construction of
Whiteness,” in Richard Delgado and Jean
Stefancic, Critical White Studies, Temple Univ.
Press, Philadelphia, PA, 1997, pp. 330-333.
Peggy McIntosh, “White Privilege and Male Privilege,”
in Richard Delgado and Jean Stefancic, Critical
White Studies, Temple Univ. Press, Philadelphia,
PA, 1997, pp. 291-299.
Lillian Roybal Rose, personal communications, 1990,
P. O. Box M, Davenport, CA 95017: Phone/Fax:
831-423-7678; e-mail: RoybalRose@aol.com).
Lillian Roybal Rose, “White Identity and Counseling
White Allies About Racism,” in Benjamin P. Bowser
and Raymond G. Hunt, Impacts of Racism on
White Americans, 2nd ed., Sage, Thousand Oaks,
CA, 1996, pp. 24-47.
Martha S. West, “Gender Bias in Academic Robes: The
Law's Failure to Protect Women Faculty,” Temple
Law Review, Vol. 67, No. 1, Spring 1994,
pp. 67-178.
Stephanie M. Wildman, Privilege Revealed, New York
University Press, New York, 1996.
Stephanie M. Wildman, with Adrienne D. Davis,“Language and Silence: Making Systems of
Privilege Visible,” in Richard Delgado, Critical
Race Theory: The Cutting Edge, Temple Univ.
Press, Philadelphia, PA, 1995.
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