Acute advertising

Right. An e-mail came around from my Faculty here at the University of Not-Bielefeld this past week that I still have no idea what to really make of.

Apparently the question was raised at a recent faculty committee meeting as to what rights the teaching staff have to deal with “acute disruptions” during their classes. And, after the Faculty sough the feedback of the President’s Office, the answer came back that we have the power of Hausrecht.

Now Hausrecht is a word that was actually unknown to me before now (and could’ve stayed that way) and doesn’t have a succinct, English translation. The literal translation is simply “householder’s rights”, but practically it has more to do with deciding who can and cannot enter your property. So, sort of like the American idea of “stand your ground”, just without the guns.

Really?

They had to go all the way up to the President’s Office to officially clarify something that I took for granted, namely that I have the right to throw any annoying little SOBs out of my classes? (Although how I actually enforce that right without any American-style guns remains an open question. Cue the President’s Office again …)

What was really bizarre, however, was the single example of an acute disruption that was provided in the e-mail upon which you could flex your Hausrecht. It wasn’t something like a loud demonstration nor disobeying important safety regulations. Nor was it being generally disruptive by talking too loud, persistent heckling, or dancing to a TikTok video on your neighbour’s desk. Nooo. Instead, it was that ever present and pervasive threat of advertising.

Umm. What?

For some reason, I never realized that acute advertising is that much of a going concern in a university setting these days. Maybe it’s because I’ve been teaching for a long time now—and at four universities in four different countries—and can’t ever recall a single instance of explicit advertising, either by me, my students, or any of those door-to-door vacuum-cleaner salesmen that tend to loiter on university campuses disrupting, let alone even being present, in my classes.

In fact, the only advertising that I know of comes from the universities themselves. For instance, way back in the late 1990s, my undergrad university back in Canada followed the going trend in North America and signed something like a 10-year contract with Pepsi that gave Pepsi the exclusive rights to sell their soft drinks on campus. Soft-drink Hausrecht if you will. And then there is all the official merchandise—bags, shirts, hoodies, even art supplies—all emblazoned with the logo of the home university. German universities have been late to this latter game, but even the University of Not-Bielefeld has joined in since I’ve been here.

Of course, all of this begs the question as to exactly what counts as advertising, but the e-mail unhelpfully provides no examples for its example. Can I throw someone out who dares to promote a different university (i.e., the University of Not Not-Bielefeld) on their sweatshirt? Or if they bring some contraband Coca-Cola to class (and don’t offer me any)?

Now, I’m sure that I could ask for clarification on this last point. The President’s Office seems to have nothing else better to do than answer burning questions like these. But, writing about it instead seems more productive and a lot more fun …