Monday, 7 April 2014

Vice-chancellor salaries and university quality

Oh my goodness, we need more quality and we need it now! We better pay some more people a lot of money at the top of our institutions to make quality happen. Quick, bring in the DVCs. No not that one, a new one.

Also, pay the VC more.

How do we know we have more quality? Oh we have MEASURES, don't you worry.

Oh yes, those lazy academics from whom we will need to squeeze the aforementioned increase in quality will complain about VC salaries, whinge whinge. But how on earth would we have quality universities if we paid vice-chancellors less money?

Check out this study that shows that Australian vice-chancellors earn significantly more than their counterparts in the USA and UK.

Of course VC salaries are an easy target. They are so obviously stupidly inflated that (from an analytical perspective) it is like shooting fish in a barrel (which actually doesn't sound that easy, now that I think about it).

But the brilliant thing about this VC salary study is the question of whether universities actually get what they pay for. And it seems we don't. Universities where VCs earn more are not better than those where VCs earn less.

And as for the quality measures. The wonderfully mathematical thinker in Melbourne, Emeritus Professor Frank Larkins confirms what we all know just by looking: adjustments to ERA rankings are achieved strategically, not by actually improving quality - 'quality' improvements are due "almost entirely to gaming the system rather than changing the quality of the research being produced".

That is why universities will bring in a DVC to address 'quality'. Their job is not to actually to make quality, right? It is NOT about shaping the research conditions at any university so it is the sort of place where quality work can happen; or to ensure teaching loads are not so excessive that academics can do good research; or to offer early career casual scholars a little bit of financial certainty so they concentrate and do the innovative work they are itching to do; or to give PhD students a desk. No, it is to 'game the system'.

That is so worthwhile I think we should pay them a bit more, don't you?

Sunday, 6 April 2014

Universities that help shore up structures of white supremacy

[This is a fragment from Chapter two: Universities make a grab for power, largely focused on the Columbo Plan]

Australia’s role in all this looks, on the surface, fairly peripheral. A key element of Australia’s Cold War foreign policy, however, deployed the universities in the task of preventing South and South East Asia from succumbing to the lures of communism. The ‘Colombo Plan’ was a foreign aid scheme intended to support increased living standards in Asia, which Australian foreign policy experts believed would help curb the spread of communism. They also believed that Australian commitment to economic development in Asia would encourage investment in the region by the United States. This would release Australia and Great Britain, both governments hoped, from some of their financial responsibilities in Asian countries whose infrastructure was affected during the Second World War – or (as in India) who lent Britain money to conduct it.  The plan worked, from that perspective anyway. Persuading nations, potentially over the course of decades, that communism was not the answer to their problems, needed more than some aid money, however, particularly in light of resentment through much of Asia about Australia’s White Australia Policy. Money was not enough: Asian nations needed to see and even feel that their big, capitalist neighbour was on their side (White Australia Policy notwithstanding, for Australian governments had no plan to dismantle that).  Designers of the Colombo Plan turned to higher education to help.

From 1951 to 1964, more than five thousand students from South and South East Asia studied at Australian universities, sponsored by the Colombo Plan.  The idea was that these students would return home, taking up jobs among Asia’s political and financial elite. Stories of their wonderful experience in Australia would inform the decisions they made in such roles. It did not quite work like that, for only a minority of Colombo Plan students took such leadership roles. Nevertheless, in the 1970s while Singapore’s Deputy Prime Minister was a Colombo Plan graduate, so too were four cabinet ministers in Indonesia.

Ensuring that these students had an experience that contradicted the received wisdom across South and South East Asia that Australia was profoundly racist was an important task. The Commonwealth Office of Education made every effort to ensure they had a positive experience. Academically, they gave Colombo Plan students significant support: an education officer spoke regularly with them about their progress and, if need be, paid for extra tuition. This worked well – the pass and graduation rates of Colombo Plan students easily exceeded those for Australian-born students.

While a key aim of the Plan was to make Australia look less racist to Asian students, there was more to it than just giving them a brilliant Australian experience. The intention was also to assist in Asian economic development. The courses Colombo Plan students enrolled in were to be ‘useful’ at home (and they also needed to sign a guarantee that they would return home, too). Acceptance into the Colombo Plan’s scholarship scheme was dependent on approval by the Department of External Affairs whose criterion (for eligible countries) was whether the degree was in a priority area for growing the economy of the student’s home country.  

Colombo Plan students were not the only ones enrolled in Australian universities from Asia. Private overseas students also took places in Australian higher education institutions. Without the additional support of the Commonwealth Office of Education, these students did not have the same experience. Although they were very few indeed, proponents of the Colombo Plan nevertheless feared that they might return home with negative stories, undermining some of the Colombo Plan’s work. Results were mixed. Overall it appears the Colombo Plan succeeded in inclining well-supported students towards Australian people. But despite higher education doing its best to cover up the White Australian Policy’s claim to white superiority, no visitor was persuaded that the policy was anything other than an expression of racism, legitimised in immigration policy. 

The Cold War represents the height of this complex use of education for foreign policy objectives, but the idea did not come from thin air. The Carnegie Corporation, for example, funded educational research and libraries in Australia since the 1930s with a view to influencing Australian culture in ways that favoured the interests of the United States.  The pattern continued in the post-war period, with agreements brokered by Senator Fulbright executing the belief that sharing knowledge would engender greater understanding of other nations and cultures, ensuring peace and prosperity (especially for America).  The Rockefeller Foundation’s philanthropic activities in Australia were similarly focused to sharing knowledge, specifically in fostering the new research culture that became a significant weapon during the Second World War.  These schemes show us that universities, governments and wealthy philanthropists were aware of the role of higher education in influencing ideas and in shaping economies, labour markets and political frameworks, even in shoring up the structures of white supremacy. Moreover, they were not reluctant to develop or wield that power.

[There are lots of footnotes here, acknowledging the work of other historians who have researched this. They will be in the book]

Tuesday, 25 March 2014

Is free tertiary education a good idea?

Against the international trend, Germany has announced it will abolish tuition fees and higher education will once again be free for its citizens. Could the same happen in Australia?

Tim Pitman and I discuss this at

And I know…I am more than a week late pointing to it….

Monday, 10 March 2014

Universities that are "just not good enough"?

I read this article by James Allan in Quadrant this week, which on the surface looks like it has some useful things to say about universities. Some of it is indeed quite great, but a lot really is not. This is a slightly edited copy of a rant I had about it on Facebook, when colleagues asked what I thought about it.

Firstly, the stuff about ARC is spot on - at least outside of science. People need grants because they need grants, not because theyneed money. It is stupid and wasteful. I am including this in Knowing Australia as part of a larger argument about connections between an academic 'economy of esteem' and money. It is complex and important. But also stupid.

Next, Allan makes an argument that students should move around more because it would make universities compete for the top students. This part of the text made me very angry, as my rant below will tell:
As far as competition for the top students. Well, honestly, I don't see what this has to do with quality anyway, not unless you care deeply about league tables based on student HSC marks (and if you do, you need your head checked). Since student HSC marks actually correlate to nothing except your SES status and the SES status of the school you go to and have no correlation at all to performance at uni (after first year) I don't care one jot for attracting the students with the highest marks out of high school. The additional suggestion that increased competition for the top students makes universities teach better is plainly wrong. As for what it takes for MOST people in the country to send their kids to the city…well there is a reason why participation by rural students is so low. Throwing around $12,000 a year like it is nothing shows JUST HOW ELITIST F*ING LAW SCHOOLS ARE and that the only students the author can imagine have parents where an extra thousand here or there is really no big deal. The number of things wrong with this…it makes me extremely angry. Parents' looks of incredulity are interpreted as cultural rather than financial? Seriously? "Some parents throw in a car". Sure. But many parents don't. Some have nothing. I've taught students working enormous hours at McDonalds because their parents can't really afford for them to be at uni at all. APPALLING analysis of the situation. "The demands on students are noticeably lower" - evidence, please? Is this just in law schools, everywhere? Or are you just declaring it to be so because - what? You're a lawyer that worked overseas. Pfft. This stuff really pisses me off.
I've blogged before about the cost of executive salaries, which is an issue Allen points to also.

On one level I agree. Yes of course we pay VCs too much. But I have to admit that every time I do the sums, the suffering that we could offset at the bottom end of the pay scales if we were to lower VC salaries ends up being very little at all. I'd like to look wider: VCs, DVCs, Deans, Associate Deans, Pro-Deans. In-house lawyers. I want to know the extent of performance bonuses across the sector at the levels under the top execs. I want to know how much "star" professors are being paid. I want a list of professors and star researchers given top-ups to the standard university salary and a justification for the expense. I want a list of professors that travel business class. Add THOSE things up and reduce them all and I reckon we could start by giving every PhD student a desk and every casual academic at least a small grant to help them survive the summer and get some of their research done - those are the places the really innovative research is being done anyway.

Much of the article was just petty whining, though. Yes we've carried the rules about assessment too far, bureaucracy is ridiculous, as for the needing-a-PhD rule - well, it was inevitable and is hardly the most terrible thing happening in universities today. Drawing on the idea of 'federalism' is just an appeal to Quadrant readers I think, with their love of small government...but in fact that has ABOLUTELY NOTHING to do the very good historical reasons for collegial governance.

Then Allan makes some suggestions. Here is my response to them (they are numbered down the bottom of his article).

1: The system already does this (record ratios of academics to administrators), we actually KNOW that ratio, though not with enough detail form to do the sums I want to do. Of course it also makes a whole lot of assumptions about administrators that are just untrue in the contemporary university. It is not actually easy as an academic to know that though, so it is understandable. I have spent a good deal of the past six months looking into this and it is far more difficult and complex than it sounds. But also, undoubtedly in my mind, a problem. Publishing ratios won't help a jot, however.

2. I would make them publish the salaries of EVERYONE, forget the top 20 execs (which is Allen's suggestion). My salary can be seen just by looking up the EBA…they should all be like that. Performance bonuses and top-up salaries are the sector's dirty secret. I look at this in Knowing Australia too.

3. The ARC is tough (Allan wants to close the thing down). I have long been very critical of the culture it has created and the values it forced, but I also know that we are very lucky in other ways to have it. We should stop wasting ARC money on unnecessary grants in areas that only applying for so much money because to progress in one's career you have to. Law would be one. History might be another... In fact wehat we need in the humanities and social sciences (like law and history) is SMALLER, MORE AVAILABLE ARC GRANTS, higher success rates so fewer people are wasting their time... But we can't close it down. In areas (unlike law) that actually need good quantities of research money, Australia's competitiveness in the global economy is at stake. I hope to heavens Quadrant readers have enough self-interest to see that, at least.

4. Sure, decentralised decision making. Though not as an end in itself. But yes, I too would like to see some collegiality. But not the type we had before - the corrupt boys club that excluded everyone but white male middle class professors or the corrupt collegiality that in colleges forces students to drink shampoo mixed with windex or that sees women raped in rituals that keep affirming who is IN the collegiate and who isn't. If we properly acknowledged the up AND downsides of collegiality, we might see the task that is ahead of a bit better. That being said, our universities are now HUGE. The old structures of collegial decision making would be very difficult indeed. Especially since they need to grow more, we need to teach more students and we still need to be able to do it cheaper because we already have just about half our population in education and not in the labour market..

Overall my assessment is this: yes, the universities are in trouble. This author has not really identified the problem and his solutions (to be brutally frank) are naive and unachievable. Universities HAD to change from the old elite, narrow things that they were and need to change still further. In the bumbling through though, all sorts of things went wrong. Instead of covering up the problems, universities need to expose them to the light and work - with government - to fix them. Academics need to figure out how to teach more students from a wider diversity of backgrounds. Endless comparisons to Harvard or Oxford are just stupid. Beyond stupid, actually, utterly worthless. And Law is not the same as all disciplines. If the ARC stopped funding some areas, our agricultural and mining industries (which prop up the whole economy) would stop being competitive internationally; our food would not be safe; and we'd have no idea how to tackle climate change. And for goodness sake: you want to be a researcher in a university, get a PhD and get over it. 

Saturday, 1 March 2014

Universities make entry to academia traumatic in order to prop up professorial esteem

What follows is a segment of my Chapter 7: The DVC Epidemic for the book Knowing Australia due frighteningly soon. The preceding paragraphs (the ones you can't see) describe the growth of competitive research funding as a signifier of academic esteem. My argument is that universities make entry to academia excessively traumatic in order to prop up professorial esteem - and that it is the economic structure of the university system in Australia (and overseas actually) that enable this to happen. This structure is not simple - and in fact consists of three intersecting economies, which I spend much of chapter 7 describing: an audit economy, a money economy and an economy of esteem.


Quality could now literally be measured by money. But even within the university, where esteem was the ‘real’ item of value and funding just its signifier, money corrupted nevertheless. Little slush funds became attached to privileged members of the professoriate, while at the other end of the research scale, postgraduates struggled on inadequate stipends or casual work, earning little or no superannuation. Casualisation of the scholarly workforce made research at the junior end of university life needlessly difficult. But while the senior academics whose voices are loudest in the union pointed (in many ways rightly) to senior administrators looking to massify on the cheap, they did not look to their complicity in an exploitative and deeply unfair system. Far from seeking to restructure a system that has enabled some professors to travel first class and stay five star to do the kind of research that early career researchers were funding from their own well-worn credit cards, senior academics appeared to be looking for more ways to line their own pockets. Performance bonuses and top-up salaries, the dirty secret of Australian universities, began to prop up still further the esteem (and cost) of senior administrators and ‘star’ professors.

When we consider, by contrast, the circumstances of the casual academics and postgraduate researchers at the other end of the pay scale, performance bonuses (and the cost of the DVC epidemic) seem particularly crass. This situation is well known. A key element of postgraduate training in Australia is a kind of medieval Trial of Poverty. The Council of Australian Postgraduate Associations found that reality contradicted the assumptions underlying the place of this torture machine for postgraduates in Australia. Most postgraduates were not, in fact, young 20-somethings just moving off student income support (Austudy) and whose parents could help them out. Their average age was 35. Many had children. The struggles for a chance to work passionately to pursue knowledge they cared about were significant. 

Since postgraduates conduct a very high proportion of Australian research – the Council of Postgraduate Associations estimates as high as 50 per cent ¬– the ‘real’ cost of knowledge is hidden beneath this suffering. The lucky ones are supported by partners or parents with the means to do so – indeed, we could well observe that perhaps only those with such support can really afford to do a PhD, even with the ARC’s stipend. I often thought that the really important pre-requisite for starting postgraduate research was a credit card with a decent limit, and a heart filled with the (potentially misplaced) faith that money will be available later on to repay it.

The life of a scholarship-funded PhD student, however, is in some ways sheer luxury compared to many an early career academic. I was reminded of this recently, after I gave a talk in which I argued that academics should whinge less and look optimistically towards building the kind of university we want. Afterwards, a young, exhausted-looking woman approached me, her whole body tensed, shoulders permanently hunched slightly as long-term stress etched itself into her body. I could sense tears were not far away as she told me how passionate she is about her research and teaching and asked – almost begged – for a way to stay positive under these conditions. I had no answer for her. Living off casual teaching, as this woman was, is a highly stressful, excessively uncertain life. Even when teaching does (or, in straitened years, doesn’t) come through at the last minute, this life combines the postgraduate’s Trial of Poverty with the anxiety attached to producing research no one is funding and the knowledge that, unless you do so, better conditions will never be forthcoming. It is very difficult to concentrate enough to do good work while feeling such urgent desperation. This system is not only wasteful of the nation’s best talent, but also unnecessarily harmful to humans who deserve more.

The issue is not just to contrast the earnings of the top and the bottom, it is that one caused the other. Competitive research funding, particularly that which was based on the purchase of time, resulted in widespread casualisation. Buy-out of teaching is understandable in the box-ticking economy, but the sub-industry it created not only damaged the prospects of a new generation of academics, it also damaged the next generation of research. And when cash-strapped universities push professorial salaries further upwards with performance bonuses and top-up salaries for ‘star’ researchers (how long until all scholars want that status, do we think?), it also made them less able to afford continuing salaries for junior scholars. The poorer of Australian universities who felt compelled to keep light on their feet with flexible short-term academic teaching contracts showed themselves nevertheless prepared to pay some of the highest salaries at executive level. Accountability, despite the stringencies of audit culture, seems located in the wrong places.

Sunday, 16 February 2014

I have been writing like crazy, but finding it difficult to know which bits to blog. Instead, I offer someone else's work, but which says something kinda like what I do...

Wednesday, 15 January 2014

Academic Freedom or Brand Protection

In their history, universities have sometimes down some dodgy things they should not have done - usually accepting money derived from slavery or some such thing.

But only within the past few decades has it been possible to make a statement like this. In wishing the university to assert some control over what types of political figures some of their academics talk about a Liberal politician is quotes saying: "This is not a question about academic freedom,"  "It is about brand protection."

Universities always had a reputation to protect and this could and would impact what money they got. In the this commercial environment, that seems more precarious - and seems (and is often talked about) as a brand. The very concept threatens academic freedom, so of COURSE it it *not* about that...