Emily Sipiorski: ‘I grew up in the middle of nowhere and wanted to see the world’

Public Law and Governance assistant professor Emily Sipiorski (45) grew up in Wisconsin, USA, in a town ‘where there were more cows than people’. But from the age of 22, she moved from the Czech Republic to Japan, Poland, Germany, and Portugal for work and study, before landing in Tilburg in 2021. ‘I don’t think I would have as much freedom as a researcher anywhere else as I do here.’

If you ask Public Law and Governance lecturer Emily Sipiorski why she moved with her family from sunny Lisbon to Tilburg in 2021, you won’t have to wait long for an enthusiastic answer. ‘I don’t think I would have had as much freedom at other universities to explore all kinds of side paths as a researcher. For the first time, all my interests are coming together: law, literature, and developments in society.’

Teaching bachelor’s students in global law, who, like her, have come here from all corners of the globe, also appeals to her, says the American, sitting at her desk in the Montesquieu Building, where she sets down cups of tea. ‘I love the connection you feel with students. Standing in front of a class is a kind of performance; sometimes it’s fun, sometimes it’s stressful. I’m sensitive to the way students respond to what I offer.

‘The generation of students that emerged during COVID sometimes hides behind their computers and phones, while I need eye contact to know if everyone is paying attention. Sometimes I sit there looking at those bent backs and the backs of their heads and I start to wonder: are they still following, am I doing this right?’ Sipiorski shakes her head. ‘Last year, I was completely fed up with it.’

What happened?

‘During a seminar on international public law, students had to prepare a plea, but no one had read up on it. I said, okay, let’s take ten minutes so everyone can still prepare. At that moment, someone entered a prompt into ChatGPT and then presented it as an argument. But I’m not interested in what a computer has to say, I want to know what you think, even if your reasoning is incorrect or if you take a completely different direction than I had in mind. You don’t learn anything from entering a prompt.’

I don’t want my students to hide behind technology, literally and figuratively. That’s why I’ve started something new in my lectures. During the first 45 minutes, everyone is allowed to keep their computers open. In the second half of the class, we discuss a case study in which we apply what was discussed in the first half. So close your laptop, put away your phone, and grab a pen and paper.’ Cheerfully: ‘I’ve only just started doing this, but the difference in engagement is striking.’

The subject of Sipiorski’s 2017 PhD thesis in Germany – the principle of good faith in international investment tribunals – reveals her interest in the ethical implications of international treaties. ‘You see that investors who invest abroad enjoy a certain degree of protection under treaties between sovereign states, and I wanted to know what that means for environmental and human rights issues.’

The fact that she would one day be dealing with major social issues on the other side of the world was not obvious in her youth, she explains. ‘I grew up in the middle of nowhere, in rural Wisconsin, where there were more cows than people. Many of my classmates had to milk the cows before school.

My father was the manager of a local bank, my mother worked for public housing. My brother, sister, and I all went to college in Madison, where we were suddenly exposed to all kinds of progressive ideas and different kinds of people. That’s when I realized what a small world I had grown up in.’

What worldview were you raised with?

When I was little, my parents were very religious. We started out as Catholics, but later ended up at an evangelical Baptist church. My parents believed that religion was the way to teach us right from wrong. They were concerned about the evil influence of music. My mother had a book in her closet called Turmoil in the Toybox, which was very influential at the time. It claimed that the Smurfs were possessed by the devil.

The church was an important part of our lives, but there was also a strong emphasis on work ethic. From the age of 12, we were expected to work all summer. I loved British literature. I remember wanting to go to writing camp, but my parents sent me to Bible camp. The rest of the summer, I babysat neighborhood children for eight hours a day. When I started writing again at the end of the vacation, my mother said, ‘But Emily, you didn’t get around to it.’ That hurt, and it still does.’

You didn’t immediately choose to study law, but first studied chemistry and English literature.

‘I wanted to be a doctor, but a future as a writer also appealed to me. My father wanted his children to study science, so as a compromise I chose two majors: chemistry and English. But I found the laboratory experiments deadly boring. After two years, I transferred to the University of Madison and dropped chemistry. I continued with English literature and added international relations.’

After graduating, you left for Prague and later Japan to teach English. How did that come about?

I was 22 and had no idea what I wanted to do. Madison had a great program in international relations, covering history, political science, and international law. I found international law fascinating; for me, it was the ideal combination of logical thinking and geopolitics.

So I considered doing a PhD in international relations, but studying law also appealed to me. I thought: I’ll just take a break and go out into the wide world.

From America to Prague and Japan, was that a culture shock?

‘Prague was a soft landing. I went with friends and was in a bubble of American and British teachers. The city is beautiful, and I lived right in the center. That’s unthinkable in American cities, where the center is often the business district. You can’t live there, let alone cycle to work, as you can in Tilburg.’

‘Japan was a culture shock. As a Western woman, I stood out everywhere and had to be careful how I behaved. Everyday life in Japan is formal. The train conductor bows as soon as he leaves one car to go to the next. Even at the high school where I taught, the meetings were solemn and tightly organized. But culture shocks also work the other way around. When I went to study law in America after a few years, I was shocked by how casual and messy things were.’

You did a master’s degree in European Studies in the Polish capital Krakow, but in 2006 you returned to America to study law.

‘Hamline Law School in Minneapolis had a great international program on alternative dispute resolution. But in practice, the law program was disappointing. We never talked about the ideas underlying the functioning of the law; it was all about analyzing cases and argumentation. I actually wanted to quit, but I had already invested so much money in my studies that changing direction was not an option.’

During her studies, she did a six-month internship at a law firm in Vienna. ‘I really enjoyed it. I worked on all kinds of international arbitration cases between Western and Eastern European companies. It was a stark contrast to Minneapolis, where I drove to an office in the suburbs to do repetitive legal work in a small cubicle. After my studies, I wanted to go back to Vienna, but that didn’t work out.

I couldn’t get a foothold in Wisconsin either. The law firms I approached didn’t really understand my resume. They kept asking me: why have you worked in so many countries, can you sit still? You sound quite academic, are you sure you want to be a lawyer?’

Nowadays, international experience is seen as an advantage.

‘Maybe, but not at the small law firms in the Midwest where I applied at the time. For that, you have to go to the big firms in big cities, where you work long hours. As a mother of two small children, that was no longer an option for me.’

You moved to Halle to do your PhD. In East Germany, the majority of residents vote for the far-right AFD party. Since the fall of the Berlin Wall, people have been suspicious of foreigners, whether they are refugees or knowledge workers. Were you able to settle in there?

Halle is a university town, so they have to accept you. But I did have to get used to it. German culture is rigid. At the university, I shared an office with a colleague. I came in full of enthusiasm, but before long my colleague complained that I was typing too loudly. It made me self-conscious. It’s a complicated balance to reinvent yourself in a new country and still remain true to yourself. You ‘mute’ yourself a little.’

What was it like outside campus?

In most places in Europe, I can blend in with the crowd as long as I don’t open my mouth. As an American, you are so privileged that it’s almost embarrassing. But for my Portuguese husband, whom I had met there because he was also doing his PhD, it was completely different in Germany than it was for me.

‘After a few years, we moved to Hamburg. We had just had our first child and wanted to rent an apartment. The landlord looked at our baby and then said to my husband, ‘You’re not going to bring your whole family over, are you?’’

In 2017, Sipiorski tried again to find a job in her homeland. ‘I had an interview at a law firm. I had just completed my doctorate and had worked on a few major European energy cases at a German law firm. But they offered me a job as a legal assistant. Um, excuse me?’

Sipiorski bursts out laughing. ‘The man tried to convince me by telling me how well it paid, but that wasn’t what mattered to me. That’s the gap: in America, it’s all about making as much money as possible. Of course, I want to pay off my student debt, but if that means doing uninteresting work, then what’s the point?’

In 2016, the family moved to Portugal. Sipiorski’s husband found a job at the university there, while she did a remote postdoc in Hamburg. Four years later, they moved to Tilburg.

All those countries, it makes my head spin. How did you become so flexible?

‘You have to be. It was never my intention to leave America forever. But an academic career is more a matter of luck than choice; you have little control over your future. It’s difficult to move between the different academic systems within Europe, because how you climb the ladder to a permanent position is different in every country.’

Why did you choose Tilburg?

‘I found Tilburg very interesting because of the global law bachelor’s program. It’s nice to work in a place where so many people with different backgrounds and perspectives come together. You don’t find that at many other European universities. I didn’t have to get used to it here, because during my studies in Krakow I had become friends with a Dutch woman and often visited her in the Netherlands. The open culture here has always stayed with me.’

What do you remember about your first days on campus?

‘I started during the COVID epidemic. It was dead quiet on campus, and many people wore face masks. The classes were hybrid. I had to quickly make sure I had enough interesting teaching material. It was quite difficult to give equal attention to the students in my classroom and the students watching from home.

‘At first, I was overwhelmed because the faculty was much larger than I was used to. I wondered: how does everyone stay in touch with each other, which secretary do I need for what? I was surprised that all communication is digital and that we are so dependent on Teams. I thrive on personal contact.’

What is the difference between working at a university in Germany and the Netherlands?

‘I noticed that Tilburg is set up like a business. Every semester, as co-director of global law, I give a presentation to attract new students. Sometimes I feel like a kind of service provider who has to meet the expectations of future students exactly. In Germany, that pressure is less; universities there are less concerned with external marketing.

The evaluation system is also different here. At most German universities, lecturers are assessed by students once every three years, while at Tilburg this happens at the end of each semester. I once filled in for a colleague for a few classes. One of the students wrote: ‘Sipiorski has no idea what she’s talking about.’ Well, that was true! You get an unpleasant comment every round. The last time, I didn’t even read the comments. As long as I score well, I assume everything is fine.

‘In Germany, students have more respect for their teachers. In the Netherlands, students are quicker to criticize and challenge you, which I like, unless it gets in the way of the lesson because someone keeps zooming in on an issue that is far beyond the scope of the lesson. In Germany, lectures have a formal atmosphere, while in the Netherlands, education is much more interactive, which has its pros and cons.

Yesterday, in my international public law class, we discussed how different countries view nuclear weapons and what that says about power relations. There were 200 students, and half the room participated. It was a lively discussion, but the complex subject also led to misunderstandings. A large lecture hall is a difficult environment in which to facilitate an active discussion among students.’

Was it easy for you as an international student to settle in on campus?

‘Absolutely, the Netherlands is very open to international academics. Half of the lecturers in our department come from abroad. I have a number of very nice colleagues with whom I often have coffee or go out for dinner, and some of them are Dutch. It also helps that I have lived abroad for a long time, which is different from someone who has just made the move.’

How does a ‘newly arrived American’ behave?

Hesitantly: ‘Americans tend to take up space and assume a certain authority. That’s not in line with European practice, where you’re not supposed to stick your neck out. But in America, you’re encouraged from childhood to rise above the crowd. In elementary school, we were already taught how to be leaders. But much less attention is paid to how you can be a good part of a society and a community.’

How often do you go back to America?

I try to go once a year, but a lot has changed there too; I don’t quite recognize that world anymore. I remember going back twenty years ago for my sister’s wedding and all of us getting our nails done at the village beauty salon. The beautician asked where everyone was from. She said to me, ‘Oh, you’re clearly not from here.’ Okay.

‘I was taken aback for a moment. Because I feel at home in the Netherlands, but everything is more familiar in America. That’s a classic problem for expats: you feel at home everywhere and nowhere. You feel a constant divide.’

‘I notice that my daughters look at America with a European perspective. They are 11 and 13 and think: what is going on here? They know that there are political issues that you can’t talk about. When a news report about Trump’s involvement in the Epstein Files came on the car radio, my father immediately turned off the radio. He couldn’t handle it.

‘That says something about the mentality in the Midwest. You avoid difficult subjects. When I was still a student, my father was open to political discussions, albeit with difficulty. Nowadays, everyone prefers to avoid political issues.’

I understand that your political views can be a problem in the American workplace.

‘Last summer, we were in northern Wisconsin, and the first thing we saw was a large sign that read ‘Welcome to Trumpland.’ The problem in America is that there are only two political parties. Not only is that unfair, it also creates unnecessary division. I find it disturbing to see people on the street afraid to interact with others. People are walking on eggshells.’

As a researcher, I naturally see a complete disruption of the international legal order and a total lack of respect for agreements made and for ideals of integration and cooperation between states as a way to build trust. It’s unbelievable that one country can cause so much unrest worldwide. Whether it concerns international law or national law, Trump has always felt that he is above it. Apparently, the rules do not apply to him.’

In mid-October, Americans took to the streets everywhere to protest against what they see as a threatening dictatorship. How do you view this?

It is frightening to see national troops being deployed against protesters in California. I hope that politicians will be able to prevent things from going even further in that direction, but the protective mechanisms have already been severely eroded.

Have you lost anything by leaving America?

‘You lose familiarity, closeness. It’s difficult to see your parents grow older from a distance. It’s also difficult to convey everyday life within Dutch culture to your loved ones. My brother doesn’t understand the six weeks of vacation you get here, during which you are encouraged to take good care of yourself. In America, you sometimes only get three weeks off per year. In America, your work is your identity. For Americans, the classic opening question in any conversation is: ‘And what do you do?’’

You have a whole life outside of work. You came here with your husband and daughters, who were seven and ten years old at the time.

The first year was very difficult. My children were placed in a so-called integration school. At that point, they had already lived in Germany and Portugal. My eldest daughter was fine, but the youngest suddenly stopped talking. She only said one word in her first year at school. One word! But as soon as she came home, she was so full of what she had experienced that day that she couldn’t stop talking.

Those integration schools also have children from war zones, which made a heavy impression. On top of that, she had to learn Dutch when she had only just started reading. I think I expected too much of them: learning a new language, making friends, and integrating into a new environment. Fortunately, the school took action quickly, and within a few months we had an appointment with a therapist.

How was that time for you?

‘It was difficult to settle into my new job and be a good mother at the same time. That’s the challenge for a university: how do you ensure that older international academics integrate here? Because they often bring their whole lives with them: children and a partner who also has to find work here.

When I arrived here, I received a lot of support with my relocation. I was helped to find a house, register with the municipality, and apply for my visa. But I didn’t receive any support for my school-age children.’

Did you consider quitting your job in Tilburg during that first year?

‘It certainly crossed my mind. I thought: it’s not fair to expect my children to keep moving because of my career. If my child doesn’t talk at school and doesn’t make friends, that’s much more harmful than me doing something else. But I also realized that I would be unhappy if I gave up the work that makes me so happy. I worked so hard to get to a place where I can do work that really interests me.’

What can you do in Tilburg that you can’t do elsewhere?

A number of colleagues who, like me, were given permanent positions just before the cuts in higher education, received a nice start-up grant to explore a special research question. Investors always seem to benefit from international investment law, while citizens and environmental interests are sidelined. Economic law seems to prevail over environmental and human rights. Investment law is currently being reformed to bring it more in line with today’s world.

‘I have always found it interesting how treaties are formulated and interpreted, and how dominant the English language is in this process. I am curious: how do you involve other voices in that reform process, for example, children? And how could we use literary narrative forms to gain a better understanding of the issues at stake today?’

Your youngest daughter struggled with Dutch, but what about you? You wanted to conduct this interview in English.

‘I have learned new languages in so many places that my brain is saturated. Speaking Dutch is so important if you want to belong, but no matter how hard I work at it, my Dutch will never be perfect. Nowadays, you hardly need to speak Dutch at Dutch universities, and certainly not here at global law. But if you can’t communicate with your secretary in German in Germany, you’re lost, and it’s not socially acceptable either. As soon as you order a loaf of bread, the sales assistants start correcting you.

Sipiorski chuckles. ‘I have a communication problem on both a professional and personal level, because my Portuguese is also poor. My husband and I speak English to each other, and he also speaks a lot of Portuguese with the children. As I get older, I get confused more and more often. When someone speaks Portuguese to me, I sometimes answer in German, because that’s my second language.’

So at the end of the day you’re exhausted?

‘Yes, sometimes I wonder why I make it so difficult for myself. But life is all about compromise. When I used to go to Bible camp, I cried all week because I wanted to be at home. My parents didn’t expect me to ever leave. But I wanted to discover the world and went from one thing to another. If I had stayed in Wisconsin, I would have always wondered what my life could have been like.’

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