The study was conducted by Ben Whitburn of the University of Southampton and Jonathan Vincent of Lancaster University. Participants came from 11 UK higher-education institutions and included 16 disabled staff members—eight academics and eight professional-services employees—as well as three full-time PhD students who also held paid university roles. Three of the staff participants were undertaking doctorates, placing them in the ambiguous space between student and employee. Fourteen participants identified as female, two as male, two as queer or non-binary, and one preferred not to say. Their disabilities and neurotypes included physical impairments, deafness, dyslexia, autism and multiple conditions. Rather than reducing their accounts to a conventional list of obstacles, the researchers examined how feelings of connection and disconnection moved through policies, buildings, digital systems, interpersonal encounters and institutional expectations.

The researchers used an approach combining critical disability studies with postqualitative inquiry. Critical disability studies examines how societies produce disability through barriers, norms and assumptions about what bodies and minds should be able to do. Postqualitative research, meanwhile, questions the idea that interviews contain a single, fixed truth waiting to be extracted and coded. Instead, it treats knowledge as something formed through relationships among participants, researchers, language, policies, technologies and environments. In this study, the researchers followed what they called four “flows” of un/belonging: belonging as an embodied and affective force; belonging as different from formal inclusion; belonging as relational; and un/belonging as a possible form of resistance. The term “un/belonging” captures the researchers’ view that connection and disconnection can coexist, fluctuate and sometimes become deliberate political positions.

For many participants, belonging was felt physically and emotionally rather than defined by a policy or organisational chart. They described it through comfort, safety, respect, care, validation and the freedom to ask for support without having to justify their presence. An autistic professor described belonging as being able to forget the physical space he was occupying, suggesting that an accessible environment can recede from conscious attention rather than constantly demanding adaptation. Another participant said belonging meant not having to “mask” continuously to make colleagues comfortable. A queer, non-binary autistic PhD student described it as being able to live daily academic life without performing the image of a “totally physiotypical and neurotypical person” capable of working 80 hours a week without breaks. These accounts show that belonging is not merely an attitude inside an individual; it is produced when environments and relationships reduce the need for vigilance, concealment and self-discipline.

That process, however, depended on practical infrastructure and on other people’s willingness to make support visible and usable. One disabled PhD researcher noted that universities may have systems in place, but autistic people may not automatically know where those systems are or how to access them. Someone inside the organisation may need to provide “scaffolding”—help navigating procedures, identifying available support and communicating that the institution is genuinely willing to respond. This is an important technical distinction between access and belonging. A captioning system, flexible timetable or adapted workstation can remove a specific barrier, but the surrounding process may still communicate suspicion, inconvenience or conditional acceptance. Belonging emerges not from the adjustment alone, but from the entire network of interactions that determines whether support is offered promptly, respectfully and without imposing excessive administrative labour on the person who needs it.

Participants repeatedly separated inclusion from belonging. Inclusion was often experienced as a managerial process of satisfying requirements, while belonging involved being recognised as a legitimate contributor to the university’s shared life. One participant said that institutions can provide inclusive measures, but cannot simply make somebody feel that they belong. Another compared inclusion with being “allowed to play,” while belonging meant being part of the game. Captions could make a lecture technically accessible, yet fail to create a sense of participation or value. The legal framework of reasonable adjustments, established in the UK by the Equality Act 2010, is intended to prevent disabled people from being placed at a substantial disadvantage. But the study indicates that adjustments can become individualised negotiations that expose a person’s impairment, consume time and reinforce the assumption that the ordinary university is already complete. The disabled person is then expected to approach the institution, document a need, wait for assessment and repeatedly defend a request for basic working or studying conditions.

The consequences were sometimes strikingly disproportionate to the apparent size of the request. One participant said that a manager responded to a request for a rollerball mouse, costing about £70, by saying it was “really expensive.” Such encounters accumulated into a sense of constantly fighting for the equipment needed to do the job. A deaf academic reported spending at least 25 per cent of additional working time managing access arrangements, while responsibility for that work was passed between human resources, administrators and other departments. The researchers interpret this unpaid administrative burden as part of institutional ableism: a system that rewards speed, stamina, uninterrupted availability and self-sufficiency, then treats the effort required to overcome its design as an individual matter. For autistic participants, the assumption that help will be available if someone asks was particularly problematic, because asking may itself be difficult when communication systems are unclear, stressful or inaccessible.

Relationships offered an alternative source of belonging. Participants described supportive managers, trusted colleagues, online communication and disabled-staff networks as spaces where they could be understood without extensive explanation. Physical proximity was not essential: one professional-services employee who worked from home described feeling close to colleagues through digital communication. Neurodivergent staff groups could transform an experience of isolation by revealing that a person was not the only autistic or neurodivergent employee in the institution. Seeing colleagues from different departments share similar experiences created recognition, solidarity and a greater sense of comfort at work. These networks also challenged the apparent completeness of the university by showing that disability was not an unusual exception but part of the institution’s existing social fabric. Yet the networks were not automatically liberating. One PhD researcher warned that disability groups could be used as a shield, allowing an institution to claim consultation with a single representative instead of engaging with the diversity of disabled people’s views. Belonging, the study concludes, is therefore political as well as emotional: it depends on who is heard, who speaks for whom and whether collective organisations can act independently.

The most provocative finding concerns “unbelonging.” When access barriers became relentless, some participants withdrew not because they lacked commitment, but to protect themselves and reject the idea that the problem was personal failure. A deaf academic described choosing to “unbelong” when access became too frustrating, using withdrawal to remember that inaccessible systems—not personal uselessness—were responsible. A dyslexic PhD researcher said she did not want to belong to university structures if belonging required complicity in barriers faced by students. The researchers frame these responses through the concept of “subscendence,” adapted from philosopher Timothy Morton: the idea that a whole may be less than the sum of its parts, rather than greater than them. Applied to universities, subscendence rejects the image of a coherent institution into which individuals must fit. It instead presents the university as a porous, unfinished assemblage created by people, technologies, rules, buildings and relationships. Disabled staff and students are not outsiders waiting for admission; they are already helping constitute the institution, even when its dominant systems fail to recognise them.

The findings do not amount to a statistical estimate of how many disabled people experience exclusion, and the authors caution that their four flows are not definitive themes or universally generalisable categories. Their significance lies in reframing the question. Instead of asking whether disabled people feel that they belong to an existing university, institutions could ask how their knowledge, labour and lived experience are already shaping what the university is. That would require moving beyond surveys and retention metrics toward policies designed with disability experience rather than merely applied to disabled individuals. It would also mean treating accessibility as an institutional responsibility, reducing the need for repeated disclosure and negotiation, and recognising that flexible work, communication and time are not special privileges but features of a university capable of supporting human variation. The study’s central message is both simple and disruptive: inclusion may permit presence, but meaningful belonging requires transformation. A university that demands masking, overwork or endless self-advocacy may count disabled people among its members while still refusing to be changed by them.

Detailed in their article, “Regulated but unchecked? Insights into Chinese graduate students’ experiences of supervisory bullying,” the authors explore the multifaceted nature of supervisory bullying within Chinese higher education. Drawing on a substantial pool of qualitative data collected from interviews, the researchers highlight how this phenomenon manifests and the various forms it can take, from overt verbal abuse to more insidious forms of emotional manipulation. Notably, the experience of supervisory bullying is not limited to isolated incidents; rather, it creates a pervasive climate of fear and anxiety that can stifle academic performance and personal growth.

One of the most disturbing aspects of this study is the recognition that many graduate students find themselves trapped in a system that ostensibly supports their academic pursuits but is rife with underlying power imbalances. The hierarchical structure of academia often places supervisors in positions of unchecked authority, complicating the ability of vulnerable students to address grievances without fear of retribution. This dynamic perpetuates a cycle in which supervisors may exploit their power, leading to widespread neglect of ethical responsibilities towards their students.

The psychological implications of such bullying are profound. Students who endure supervisory bullying often report heightened levels of stress, anxiety, and depression. They may struggle with a diminished sense of self-worth, viewing themselves primarily through the lens of their supervisor’s criticism rather than their achievements and potential. This negative stigma can deter aspiring academics from pursuing careers in research and teaching, leading to a brain drain in sectors that desperately need fresh ideas and perspectives.

Moreover, the study underscores the necessity for universities to implement robust policies and measures to protect students from such mistreatment. Although educational institutions often have frameworks in place ostensibly designed to foster a positive learning environment, the researchers argue that these frameworks frequently remain inadequately enforced. There are calls for a reevaluation of current policies, urging institutions to adopt a more proactive stance towards identifying and addressing supervisory bullying.

Yang and Yu’s investigation contributes invaluable insights into the importance of mentorship and the ethical obligations that supervisors have towards their students. The authors take a critical stance on traditional academic hierarchies that grant unchecked power to supervisors at the expense of student welfare. They argue for a paradigm shift that places student well-being at the forefront of educational policies, advocating for a system where supervisors are held accountable for their actions.

The topic also raises broader issues regarding systemic inequities within academia. Supervisory bullying is not merely an individual issue; it reflects larger sociocultural dynamics that perpetuate inequality and harassment. Understanding these underlying factors is crucial for creating a more equitable academic environment. The study calls for greater awareness and understanding of the intersectional components that contribute to supervisory bullying, including gender, race, and socioeconomic status, and how these elements influence the power dynamics in supervisor-student relationships.

Reflecting on the international implications of these findings, researchers and educators worldwide must pay close attention to the insights garnered from Yang and Yu’s work. The nuances of supervisory bullying in the Chinese context may resonate with similar issues in higher education systems globally, necessitating a shared dialogue and collaborative efforts to combat such adversities. Educational institutions can benefit from cross-cultural experiences, employing successful interventions from one region to help mitigate these challenging phenomena in another.

In addition to institutional reforms, fostering a supportive academic community is paramount. Graduate students should be equipped with resources and networks that empower them to speak out against bullying. Establishing confidential reporting mechanisms and peer support groups can be effective in creating an environment where students feel safe and valued. Training programs that emphasize the significance of mentorship and the ethical responsibilities of supervisors may also play a crucial role in shifting attitudes and behaviors within academic settings.

Through raising awareness of supervisory bullying, Yang and Yu hope to inspire a movement within academia that prioritizes integrity, respect, and support for all students. By abolishing toxic hierarchies and encouraging healthy supervisor-student interactions, the academic community can foster an environment where all students can thrive. As we consider the future of education in China and beyond, it is imperative to engage deeply with the findings of this research, ensuring that all students can pursue their academic and professional aspirations free from the threat of bullying.

As this dialogue gains momentum, the academic community must stand together to challenge complacency and advocate for meaningful change. Only through collective action can we hope to dismantle the structures that allow supervisory bullying to persist and to create a higher education landscape that truly supports the intellectual and emotional growth of all its participants. In navigating the complexities of graduate supervision, we must not forget that education should empower rather than oppress, promoting scholarship in a manner that is both ethical and equitable.

The exploration of supervisory bullying among Chinese graduate students has potential implications that resonate beyond the immediate academic sphere. It serves as a call to action for educators to reflect on their roles as mentors, as well as for institutions to take a stand against all forms of harassment and discrimination. Ultimately, this research pushes for a reimagining of the academic landscape, shifting from a focus on hierarchy and power to one that emphasizes mutual respect, support, and collaboration.

Within the evolving paradigm of higher education, it is crucial to acknowledge the experiences of those who may suffer in silence. Yang and Yu’s findings offer a necessary lens through which to scrutinize the existing power dynamics between students and supervisors and to advocate for a more inclusive academic environment. Their work is a potent reminder that we must continuously strive for progress, ensuring that our collective commitment to education translates into a nurturing atmosphere for every scholar.

As we look to the future, the voices of graduate students must be amplified, ensuring their experiences with supervisory bullying are acknowledged and addressed. Establishing safe spaces for open dialogue is essential, not only in China but globally, as universities navigate the challenges of maintaining academic integrity while fostering a culture that champions respect and collaboration.

In conclusion, Yang and Yu’s compelling research shines a much-needed light on the experiences of supervisory bullying among Chinese graduate students. Recognizing the profound impacts of such interactions is critical for anyone invested in the future of higher education. By confronting this issue head-on, institutions can begin to implement meaningful changes that prioritize student well-being, resulting in a healthier academic environment for generations to come.

Subject of Research: Experiences of supervisory bullying among Chinese graduate students.

Article Title: Regulated but unchecked? Insights into Chinese graduate students’ experiences of supervisory bullying.

Article References:

Yang, Y., Yu, L. Regulated but unchecked? Insights into Chinese graduate students’ experiences of supervisory bullying.
High Educ (2025). https://doi.org/10.1007/s10734-025-01584-z

Image Credits: AI Generated

DOI: https://doi.org/10.1007/s10734-025-01584-z

Keywords: Supervisory bullying, graduate students, higher education, power dynamics, academic integrity.