Introduction
This article constitutes a follow-up examination of an empirical and qualitative research undertaken at the University of Luxembourg (UL) in 2016. The study focused on examining the close relationship between migration, international higher education (IHE) and educational inequality as perceived by myself (Mariana) as a participant/researcher and other three Latin American students enrolled at the UL (Clara, Santiago and Germán). The three methods of data collection selected, namely individual interviews, auto-ethnographic notes and a group discussion, were able to provide a critical examination within a decolonial framework. Together, they revealed significant personal experiences derived from moving from Latin America to Luxembourg for educational purposes. The data showed that most of those experiences were shared by all participants, who later explored why their place of origin may have influenced their experiences abroad.
I decided to include an auto-ethnographic approach because it was evident for me that the study’s theoretical motivation actually emerged from my own migration process. Individual experiences, together with their affective and cognitive components, are used within this research method to examine and interpret social life. Moreover, the presence of this approach indicates that the perspective of the researcher as an individual immersed in the situations that are being explored within the study is incorporated as a tool for understanding certain experiences that might not be accessible from other points of view (Scribano & De Sena, 2009). Acknowledging the researcher’s own positionings within any study enables more “transparent” projects. At the same time, it eliminates intentions of merely understanding “the other” that frequently exist in non participant-researcher studies. This conveys a methodological intention of more balanced power relations between researchers and participants. Non-research participants might thus sense that they posses authority to impact and influence the study’s process and results. In this particular case, this approach facilitated the emergence of bottom-up suggestions and proposals from us as students. As a material outcome of the research, a document was written and presented to certain members of the UL’s administrative staff. This action showcased how group dynamics allow shifts from personal or self-blaming explanations to the exploration of structural solutions (Kitzinger, 1995). Institutions can then be held responsible for certain practices and, at the same time, student’s opinions, disconformities and suggestions can turn into bottomup ideas. Besides, this methodology results from an attempt to conduct empowering research (Colmenares, De Mejía & Tejada, 2006).
The research methodology was also selected according to the adopted perspective, which states that international schemes of power relations become problematic when specific individuals experience personal and collective exclusion, discrimination, and symbolic, physical or/and systemic micro-aggressions (Fleras, 2016). Focusing on international educational inequality, both the research and this article advocate for more balance between the students as individuals and the greater social sphere by reflecting on the implementation of engaged and decolonial pedagogies. Significant study findings will be presented in this text intertwined with theory about decolonial pedagogies with the objective of establishing a dialogue between both. Afterwards, the emerging considerations will be shaped as resistance strategies for teachers and international commitment practices for international higher education institutions (IHEI).
Problematic and contextualization
Processes of internationalization and globalization influence individual possibilities of mobility. When IHEIs integrate intercultural education into their curricula, recruiting students from different parts of the world becomes one of their main interests (Brooks & Waters, 2011; Olwig & Valentin, 2015). International education discourses tend to reproduce notions of global meritocracy, neutrality and apoliticality (Lavia, 2007). However, as this study exemplifies, equity in educational opportunities is still not possible due to the scarcity of decolonial based frameworks. Consequently, mobility builds upon legacies of colonialism and global inequality (Madge, Noxolo & Raghuram, 2009).
Brooks & Waters (2011) describe this process as follows:
In fact, the majority of international students are found in a very small number of countries, and these countries are located in the West. Put crudely, rich countries benefit most from the economic advantages that accrue from international student mobility, and their presentday uneven (power) relationship with students ‘sending’ countries is often built on a recent exploitative colonial past. (p. 168)
Hence, IHE is paradoxical because, despite the attempts to provide global access to education by allowing students with various geographical origins to enroll—specifically, allowing non-EU students to enroll in EU universities—structural inequality is consciously and unconsciously reproduced by different educational practices. Acknowledging this paradox requires of us as educators, scholars, administrators, researchers and students embedded in international settings, institutions’ universalized agendas, or, in the fields of intercultural communication and multilingualism, to re-think the narratives of colonization and decolonization.
Decolonial pedagogies
Decolonial pedagogies emerge from an awareness that there needs to be justice in education, as well as from educators’, administrators’, students’ and researchers’ intentions to get closer to this ideal (hooks, 1994). For Lavia (2007) this approach refers to a strategic and dialogic way of working towards an inclusive society:
In this sense, postcolonial pedagogies claim a commitment to inclusion by fostering educational practice that challenge and confront discrimination and all forms of exclusionary attitudes, policies and practices; they reconstruct a politics of recognition, where notions of citizenship and who gets to participate are revisited in light of democratic schooling practices and education systems. (p. 297)
For Walsh (2013), decolonial pedagogies represent:
El trabajo de aprendizaje, desaprendizaje y reaprendizaje implicados en y necesarios para el de(s) colonizar de nosotros mismos y hacia formas “muy otras” de estar, ser, pensar, hacer, sentir, mirar, escuchar, teorizar y actuar, de con-vivir y re-existir ante momentos políticos complejos caracterizados por violencias crecientes, represión y fragmentación.1 (p. 68)
Unlearning refers to confronting naturalized categories of race and gender so that they are no longer identity categories used for classification and inferiorization (Walsh, 2013). Giroux (2003) refers to education as a form of political intervention with the capability of leading towards social transformation. Thus:
Any viable notion of pedagogy and resistance should illustrate how knowledge, values, desires and social relations are always implicated in relations of power, and how such an understanding can be used pedagogically and politically by students to expand further and deepen the imperatives of economic and political democracy. (p. 11)
Freire (1998) establishes that learning can be a liberatory act. He defines knowledge as a field in which everyone labors. Thus, critical pedagogies enable student’s agency as knowledge producers. This conception promotes the idea of involving student’s everyday life experiences as part of the content and makes pupils more aware of the relation between themselves as individuals and what is constructed in class. hooks (1994) argues that both students and teachers should be able to consider each other as “whole” human beings striving to learn not only “academic” information, but also how to engage with the world. She (2014) defines this term as “a philosophical standpoint emphasizing the union of mind, body, and spirit, rather than the separation of these elements” (p. 18). Madge et al. (2009) also conceive pedagogy as a carrier of specific political and strategic intent (not always necessarily conscious). Thus, decolonial strategies turn the process of (un)learning into a political praxis based on a constant articulation of responsibility and care for subjects as “whole” human beings, shifting relationships of otherness to relations of alterity. Decolonial education also challenges dominant structures of knowledge production, which legitimize a very narrow range of knowledge and limited knowledge production methodologies.
Freire (1985) claims that one of the legacies of coloniality is a curriculum that promotes silence, numbness, passivity and conformity. Both students and teachers end up replicating patterns and understandings without questioning them. Consequently, decolonial pedagogies should attempt to develop adequate language and varied forms of expression to address issues underlying human interactions. They should be accompanied by different actions designed to face situations of social injustice (Lavia, 2007).
Thus, a decolonial approach to pedagogy will be here defined as the continuous process of unlearning, learning, relearning and reflecting about the self (which cannot be detached from its surroundings) in order to actualize it constantly. By understanding the complexity of oneself, it is easier to approach and challenge broader sociopolitical entities together with their causes and consequences, specifically those implied in processes of (neo)colonialism. In other words, decolonial pedagogies take the form of holistic (un)learning that aims at the approximation to freedom by constant critical awareness of underlying historical oppressions, as well as personal agency and engagement in social transformation.
Study findings
Idealization of Europe
The motivation for traveling to Luxembourg that stood out the most was ideological. It refers to the participants’ constructed perception of Europe as an ideal place to be and, therefore, study. For example, Clara mentioned that she dreamt of living in Europe since she was little, and I expressed a similar experience in my autobiographical notes. Both explanations display how certain individuals and societies value migrating to Europe due to the social construction of this type of mobility as provider of “better opportunities” (Brooks & Waters, 2011). Similarly, Germán and Santiago said they chose Europe for their master studies because they believed education provided there was going to be better. This notion reveals an allocation that participants make of “academic knowledge” and knowledge generation to the European continent due to believing that a “better education” and symbolic capital is obtained when inhabiting that geographical location. “Western knowledge” (represented by European HEIs) has more symbolic value than other kinds of knowledge, even within Latin American settings. As a kind of capital with symbolic value, “academic knowledge” provides physical locations with socio-cultural value. Thus, we could see how the “myth” of believing that knowledge is localized still exists and was very rooted during our upbringings and personal motivations when choosing a master program as adult students.
Eurocentrism
There were various anecdotes regarding difficulties when students addressed topics in unexpected ways, or included topics and methodologies from outside Europe. Santiago’s description of his relationship with his teachers indicated inattentiveness. He felt that even though it was possible for him to make comments, there was no real dialogue because what he said was not truly heard. Therefore, unless listening is accompanied by a full acknowledgment of the other as a subject, unjust social orders will be perpetuated and “knowledge will be subordinated to power” (Todorov, 1984, p. 132). Santiago was concerned about the lack of interiorizing done by the teachers regarding their own and their students’ positionings. Truly understanding the other implies going beyond the “politically correct” approach of asking for the student’s name and nationality at the beginning of the first class. In IHE contexts, understanding the other implies the (co)construction of a dialogue in order to include students’ diverse backgrounds, needs, and expectations in the curricula. In other words, decoloniality entails the conceptualization of students as knowledge holders and as complex human beings.
Pratt (1991) states that, “The classroom functioned not like a homogeneous community or a horizontal alliance but like a contact zone”2 (p. 39). The anecdotes about how teachers ignored Santiago’s and Clara’s attempts of providing examples of situations located in Latin America displayed certain ways in which teachers exert positions of power within classroom dynamics. It was possible to notice the extent to which those in power define what is included and/or what is disregarded as knowledge and valuable content, often informed by “academic knowledge” ideologies. Consequently, not only is knowledge universalized—limited to a single form—but also its diverse nature is made invisible (Lander, 2000). “Any educational reform that seeks to close the achievement gap between students from dominant and marginalized communities will only be effective to the extent that it challenges the operation of coercive relations of power within the school and classroom” (Cummins & Ortiz, 2011, p. 13).
Extra effort, loneliness, uncertainty
All of us had feelings of loneliness and of making an extra effort that EU students were not required to make. We felt that it was more difficult for us to attain the same achievements than students holding EU passports. Clara uttered the words vale triple (it’s worth three times more) because she felt that being in Europe without an EU passport requires an effort deserving of a “triple” reward. Digging deeper into Clara’s assertion, I posed a general question designed to identify the specific causes of those feelings of effort, struggle, and difficulty. The rest of the participants replied concisely: the passport, the visa, and immigration matters. Although these answers refer to concrete and tangible objects, “immigration matters” are actually a set of complex processes and requirements that imply performing several actions and owning specific cultural and material goods. We saw how we experienced them as a form of micro-aggression and symbolic violence.
Additionally, we had the perception of simultaneously living two lives. Clara stated that this sensation was the most stressful element of the “adjustment process”. I later empathized with that sensation by arguing that such duality, together with the vast gap between both realities, was due to the extensive physical separation between the two locations and to the lack of physical interaction with (people from) the previous context. This unpleasant feeling had repercussions in everyday life experiences. One of them was “quedás también en ese lugar que nadie te entiende”3 due to occupying an in-between space between the previous and the current setting. Santiago mentioned that interactions with students undergoing a similar process could possibly alleviate these feelings. In addition, Germán described how experiencing physical loneliness—particularly during holydays and family celebrations—was one of mobility’s worst consequences.
Along with those perceptions, a sentiment of uncertainty was mentioned. When collectively discussing some of the findings, Clara said that, while living in Luxembourg, she was in a daily state of expectancy to see what happened. In contrast, she stated that if she had an EU passport, she would not be (as) worried about what was going to happen after finishing her studies. Even though it was evident for us that there are no guarantees for most students when they graduate (even if they hold an EU passport), I remarked that for non-EU students uncertainty has an extra layer to it, which Clara called a “ghost agent”. I described how I felt that after migrating to Luxembourg, everyday life decisions were not solely taken by us as individuals. Regulations defining if people can remain in the territory, for how long, doing what and living where have an extremely significant influence in the stress already generated by everyday uncertainty sensations. Additionally, they intersect with other aspects that go beyond one’s own will, such as finances, familial and social relationships, education, and job opportunities, among others.
It was clear for all of us that most of these structural configurations did not depend on the university, but on EU immigration laws. However, there are numerous ways for institutions to acknowledge them and engage:
With international students, there are no strong equity demands to accept lower achieving students from disadvantaged social backgrounds, provide free or heavily subsidised student tuition, emphasise social science and humanities education relevant to students’ personal identities or support the needs and interests of local communities surrounding college campuses as there are for higher education students domestically. (Brown & Tannock, 2009, p. 384)
This acknowledgement implies recognizing not only the students’ (and teachers’) backgrounds (Freire, 1998; hooks, 1994), but also colonial ongoing structural elements that cause feelings of worry and distress.
Internationalization discourse vs. practice
We perceived that a discourse of internationalization was being assumed and reproduced at the UL. It was being reinforced by the number of international students enrolled as well as by mechanisms of international assessment like university rankings. Germán recalled how the title of the “second most international university in the world”, often advertised within the UL, did not belong to the institution but is a reflection of the diverse backgrounds of the students enrolled in it and of the people already living in Luxembourg. Personally, we experienced a lack of internationalization practices along our studies, but specifically during the first weeks of our programs. We all shared a collective frustration regarding the (lack of) reception we had at the UL and reflected on how unprepared it was to receive students from abroad, particularly from outside the EU. There were no welcoming procedures nor accompanying systems thought for international (non-Erasmus) students, which could be implemented inspired by decolonial and engaged pedagogies. We encountered a gap between discourse and practice. Adapting curricula and programs for the recruitment of large numbers of international students cannot be mistaken for adopting pedagogical and institutional practices that actually acknowledge students’ migration processes, difficulties and diverse backgrounds.
Decolonial approaches as resistance strategies for teachers
Teachers should make the effort of constantly revising themselves as subjects involved in wider social and global dynamics in order to develop strategies to use in international (and also intranational) contexts (Lavia, 2007). hooks (1994) refers to this as self-actualization:
When professors bring narratives of their experiences into classroom discussions it eliminates the possibility that we can function as all-knowing, silent interrogators. It is often productive if professors take the first risk, linking confessional narratives to academic discussions so as to show how experience can illuminate and enhance our understanding of academic material. (p. 21)
Due to the fact that educators are implicated in unjust historical processes, decolonial teachers can no longer afford the luxury of ignoring colonial legacies and their consequences. Freire (1998) considers critical thinking within education as a fundamental part of human and professional ethics. Thus, as difficult as it may be, educators need to direct their curriculum, methodologies and practices to reflexivity, critical inquiry, and self-reflection (Lavia, 2007). Similarly to hooks (1994), Giroux (2003) refers to teachers’ “self-definition” as a practice that involves continuous shifting between attempting to alter unjust social situations while simultaneously questioning and examining personal definitions of social justice. This reflective pedagogical strategy is a decolonial strategy for the reason that it detaches the teacher from the pretentious illusion of scientific objectivity and allows autobiographical components to make meaning out of academic matters, similarly to what I did as a researcher. This acknowledgement produces an interrelation between the teachers’ knowledge constructions, the representations of their own feelings, experiences and emotions, and those from the students. Inquiry and reflection can then lead to linking the course contents to both students’ and teachers’ life experiences in order to make learning more meaningful.
Mignolo & Vázquez (2017) encourage teachers to invite students to analyze the source of every assertion, as well as the emotions that may come with this process:
Lo representado nos absorbe, nos enajena y no nos deja ver el qué, quién, cuándo, para qué y por qué enuncia. […] De modo que una estrategia de la educación es invitar a lxs estudiantes a que por un lado analicen la enunciación a partir de lo enunciado y que al hacerlo reflexionen sobre su propio sentir y emocionar4. (p. 506)
Such efforts and strategies should conduct teachers’ pedagogical approaches towards symbolically and practically resisting previous colonial structures. For Walsh (2013) “lxs maestrxs tienen la responsabilidad de activamente asistir y participar en el ‘despertar’ ”5 (p. 44). In this sense, it constitutes a professional responsibility not only to reflect about oneself and the implications of what is being transmitted, but also to foster reflexivity in students. Guiliano (2016) argues that the other is always a singular subject, impossible to describe and define according to “our” own concepts and to the power “we” hold. Therefore, “Comprender al otro no es sólo un acto cognitivo; es una acción política y moral” (Benhabib, 1999, p. 69).6 In other words, decolonial educators are ethically committed to look after the others (their students) and to take care of them: “Me hago cargo del otro cuando lo acojo en mí, cuando le presto atención, cuando doy relevancia suficiente a su historia, más allá de cualquier representación”7 (Giuliano, 2016, p. 16). This procedure encompasses a genuine interest in the experiences of students as complex beings: “It is only by speaking to the other (not giving orders but engaging in a dialogue) that I can acknowledge him as subject, comparable to what I am myself” (Todorov, 1984, p. 132).
Specifically within international contexts, students are constantly adjusting to a new and different setting and might need support. Thus, conceiving students as “whole” human beings implies acknowledging that besides attending lectures, students are also part of many other social dynamics. Therefore the importance of making an effort to get to know them and listen to what they have to say.
Within decolonial contexts, educators should not only examine themselves as subjects, but also regard their profession critically (Lavia, 2007). This means understanding that teaching constitutes a political act, which is already embedded in broader power dynamics. Thus, decolonial educators are in conflicting, contradictory positions of simultaneously contesting and reinforcing unjust practices (Madge et al., 2009). However, the emphasis should be placed on the potential of human agency to transcend personal and professional limitations: “Thus, critical professionalism is an exercise in critical praxis, human agency and the construction of political identity and action” (Lavia, 2007, p. 294).
Institutional commitment and internationalization policies
Madge et al. (2009) envision decolonial responsibility as a set of institutional actions motivated by focusing on the human complexities of students. In addition, it includes making efforts towards caring for students, which materialize in showing interest in student’s needs. Just like for teachers, genuine dialogue and attentive listening is necessary for administrators to access students’ own perceptions. After listening, institutions should thus invest enough time and resources to guarantee that student’s needs are being met. Part of being responsible and caring is thus acting according to international students’ concerns and creating discussion spaces and mechanisms:
Improving the experiences of overseas students is not just about a new policy-and resources initiative imposed from the top, but requires real and sustained dialogue between all groups in the HE sector, as well as a recognition of the active steps overseas students have always taken to help themselves. (Madge et al., 2009, p. 27)
Dialogues and conversations are interactions. Consequently, they are embedded in power relation dynamics, which turns them into easy tools for exclusion (Benhabib, 1999). However, they also represent one of the few ways human beings have to broaden their frames of reference while doing a critical self-revision of their own ideologies: “Las conversaciones hermenéuticas más exitosas son incómodas precisamente porque disparan procesos de desafío, cuestionamiento y aprendizaje mutuos”8 (Benhabib, 1999, p. 75). Both terms, responsibility and commitment, convey the desire to acknowledge what has historically happened and what is currently taking place in order to change it. Dialogue and alterity also aid in deconstructing “academic knowledge” and embracing more kinds of knowledge: “Students are not only products of culture but also produce their own pedagogic cultures” (Madge et al., 2009, p. 3).
Moreover, IHEIs need to be aware of the different geographically-routed power dynamics within their spatiality in order to generate an engaged political praxis that—together with serious institutional responsibility and care for international students—is later transformed into an engaged decolonial pedagogy. Such awareness should include the conception of migration for educational purposes as an integral and complex process of human life that influences and redirects every other aspect of it. Mobility is interwoven into livelihood opportunities, and it shapes and transforms them (Olwig & Valentin, 2015). Consequently, when structural migration regulations are forced upon (some) international students, they limit not only their academic possibilities in terms of length and location, but also the agency they have in constructing the rest of their life. Institutional awareness should lead to institutional commitment that includes acting accordingly and puts an end to considering people merely as transitory students.
Conclusions and recommendations
The article exposes some of the ways in which educational mobility builds upon coloniality. It shows that equity is not truly present within international higher education settings. This became evident because we, as students, could not perceive any kind of internationalization policy informed by decolonial and engaged pedagogies. As mentioned above, adapting curricula and programs with the intention of accepting a large number of international students has only a quantitative impact and does not imply an institutional commitment practice designed to foster the wellbeing of international students. Hence, narratives of coloniality and decoloniality need to be (re)theorized by listening to the multiple voices and diverse experiences of international students. Understanding their impressions raises awareness of the difficulties present in university programs. Therefore, when accepting international students, universities should also be aware and willing to support those students with the issues that might arise during the migration process. Adjusting to a new and different setting might require support. By including these approaches, universities move closer to more inclusive and more power-balanced environments.
Because reflexivity and critical inquiry are basic resistance strategies, educators need to constantly actualize themselves as individuals and direct their curricula, methodologies and practices towards them. Decolonial teachers have the responsibility of looking after their students, taking into account who they are outside educational settings. Thus the importance of getting to know them personally and listening to what they have to say. In addition, educators are ethically committed to foster reflexivity in students and to provide spaces for this purpose. Moreover, for educators, it is a responsible attitude to admit that teaching is a political act and that they are already embedded in unjust historical practices. When teaching, they should emphasize on transcending such personal and professional limitations.
Thus, as difficult as it may be, educators need to direct their curriculum, methodologies and practices to reflexivity, critical inquiry, and self-reflection. Students should have educational spaces to examine themselves, their multiple (and often contradicting) identities, their environment and the numerous broader power dynamics that are continuously present inside and outside the classroom (together with the relationship those dynamics have with academic matters of interest). After explaining their own and the program’s background, students’ expectations and needs should be included in the program. In addition, it is important to avoid believing that there already is an implied consensus on how international programs work, because different understandings are always present within international classrooms.
Decolonial responsibility should be an institutional commitment practice and include attentive listening and genuine interest in student’s experiences. Institutions should invest enough time and resources to guarantee that international students’ needs are being met. Recognizing students as agents allows them to participate in the (co)construction of policies and administrative procedures. By facilitating discussions, institutions create spaces that include other approaches to knowledge. Within these spaces, the information that international non-EU students already have (such as previous pedagogical methodologies and different ways of thinking) is particularly valuable. Hiring or including (more) lecturers and professors coming from a broader selection of backgrounds should also be considered.
Decolonial responsibility should also materialize into welcoming practices directed to international students. They should appear together with support systems and professionals capable of accompanying international students during their migration processes, creating or adapting, for example, programs similar to the ones currently provided to Erasmus students at some IHEI—such as the “Buddy” program or “Pick-up” services—to the rest of international students, with a special focus on non-EU students. Another strategy involves making sure that student offices offer a constant support system to international non-Erasmus students. Such departments should be able to provide them with official information and guidance about the various procedures that should be completed before and after arriving to the country. It would be advisable to include the participation of students who are enrolled (student jobs) and might have already gone through the process.
It is vital that these strategies take into account that non-EU students have to go through a more complicated process (involving other entities) to start their academic programs. In addition, universities should recognize the facts that, firstly, (in general) students coming from non-EU countries tend to find it more financially difficult to cover living costs in Europe (due to the difference in average incomes, devalued currencies, differences in costs of living, etc.); secondly, there needs to be recognition that for this group of students, enrollment procedure expenses (such as translations, apostilles, stamps, visas, certified post, international bank transfers, and transport fares) are larger. Possibilities of getting student jobs, housing assistance, non-EU scholarships and other kinds of financial support mechanisms should thus be considered.