What are universities for?

The growth model of academic inquiry

Before Christmas, I blogged on a couple of occasions about the likely effects of a new set of criteria for the distribution for research funding in British universities. The "Research Excellence Framework" (REF) stipulates that "significant additional recognition will be given where researchers build on excellent research to deliver demonstrable benefits to the economy, society, public policy, culture and quality of life. Impacts will be assessed through a case-study approach that will be tested in a pilot exercise."

Many academics working in the humanities were quick to point out the likely effects on their fields of an economic growth-oriented model of academic funding, in which "impact" is a key criterion. In a petition submitted to No 10, leading researchers urged

the reversal of the Research Councils and HEFCE policy to direct funds to projects whose outcomes are determined to have a significant "impact". The arts and humanities do have such an impact, but it is typically difficult if not impossible to judge this in the short term. Academic excellence is the best predictor of impact in the longer term, and it is on academic excellence alone that research should be judged. "Users" who are not academic experts are not fit to judge the academic excellence of research any more than employers are fit to mark student essays. The UK is renowned for its creative industries. But the roots of creativity in the intellectual life of the nation need sustained support and evaluations based on short-term impact will lead to less impact in the long term.

A letter from the novelist and critic Gabriel Josipovici published in the latest issue of the TLS suggests that university administrations have already taken the REF to heart, and are setting about restructuring their institutions in its image. I have a particular interest in what Josipovici has to say, as he's writing about my alma mater, the University of Sussex, where he taught for many years. His letter is worth quoting at length:

A document has come into my possession which might be of interest to your readers -- an email, in fact, which the vice-chancellor of the University of Sussex, Michael Farthing, has sent to all undergraduates, explaining to them his plans for "the development of the university". These plans consist of the sacking of over 100 staff and the closing down or reduction of a number of "areas", so that the word "development" is somewhat ironic, but in keeping with the tone of the document, which is couched throughout in the worst bureaucratese. Thus: "Our aim is to continue to invest in successful areas in the university and grow our income where possible."

As one might imagine, this is not good news for those disciplines which have always been seen as at the heart of the humanities side of English universities. "In some areas," the VC says, "there are no opportunities for sustainable growth and we need to make targeted reductions in those areas while continuing to develop our university as a broad and balanced research-intensive institution across the arts and social sciences." It is difficult to see how this last aspiration is to be met when it is followed by this: "In a number of schools we are now seeking financial savings, including engineering and design; English; history, art history and philosophy; informatics; and life sciences." By contrast, predictably: "In academic schools with recent growth and good prospects for the future, we are pressing ahead with our growth and development plans, including the schools of business, management and economics; global studies; and media, film and music" . . .

The question this raises is: Are universities really businesses? And if not, what are they? Are they to become forcing houses for the immediate economic development of the country and nothing else (ie, are business and media studies to replace engineering, English, history and philosophy)? If that is what the country wants, so be it. But we should be clear that it means the end of universities as they have been known in the west since the Middle Ages.

I don't think Josipovici's conclusion is at all apocalyptic. Rather, it seems to me entirely uncontroversial -- we're sleepwalking into uncivilisation.

I'd encourage students and academics to leave further examples of the kind of thing described here in the comment box below.

Jonathan Derbyshire is Managing Editor of Prospect. He was formerly Culture Editor of the New Statesman.

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Goodbye, Sam Allardyce: a grim portrait of national service

In being brought down by a newspaper sting, the former England manager joins a hall of infamy. 

It took the best part of 17 years for Glenn Hoddle’s reputation to recover from losing the England job.

Between leaving his job as manager in February 1999 and re-surfacing as a television pundit on ITV during the 2014 World Cup, Hoddle was English football’s great pariah. Thanks to his belief in faith healer Eileen Drewery and a string of unconventional and unacceptable views on reincarnation, he found himself in exile following in a newspaper interview during qualification for England’s Euro 2000 campaign.

But just as Hoddle is now cautiously being welcomed back to the bosom of English football, current incumbent Sam Allardyce has felt the axe fall. After less than two months in charge of the national side and with only a single game under his belt, the former Bolton Wanderers manager was caught up in a sting operation by the Daily Telegraph — allegedly offering guidance on how to circumvent his employer’s rules on third-party player ownership.

The rewards for guiding an English team to major international success promise to be spectacular. As a result, the price for any failure — either moral or performance-related — is extreme.

Hoddle’s successor – the endearing Kevin Keegan – resigned tearfully in a toilet at Wembley after a tumultuous 18-month spell in charge. His replacement, the laconic Sven-Göran Eriksson, provided moments of on-field excitement paired with incredible incidents of personal indiscretion. His tangle with "fake sheikh" Mazher Mahmood in the run up to the 2006 World Cup – an incident with haunting parallels to Allardyce’s current predicament – led to a mutual separation that summer.

Steve McClaren was hapless, if also incredibly unfortunate, and was dispatched from the top job in little over a year. Fabio Capello – who inspired so much optimism throughout his first two years in charge – proved himself incapable of lifting the hex on English major tournament fortunes.

The Italian’s star was falling from the moment he put his name to the oddly timed Capello Index in 2010, although his sustained backing of then captain John Terry over a string of personal misdemeanours would prove to be the misjudgement that ultimately forced his exit. As Allardyce has found out, the FA has become increasingly hard on lapses in moral judgement.

English football is suffused with a strange mix of entitlement and crushing self-doubt. After a decade that has given us a Wimbledon champion, several Ashes triumphs, two Tour de France winners and eye-watering Olympic success, a breakthrough in this area has never felt further away.

In replacing Capello, Roy Hodgson — the man mocked by Allardyce during his hours supping pints with Telegraph reporters — had hoped to put a rubber stamp on a highly respectable coaching career with a spell managing his own country. But this summer’s farcical defeat to Iceland at Euro 2016 put his previous career in a much harsher light.    

Allardyce was a mix of the best and worst of each of his predecessors. He was as gaffe-prone as Steve McClaren, yet as committed to football science and innovation as Hodgson or Capello. He also carried the affability of Keegan and the bulldog spirit of Terry Venables — the last man to make great strides for England at a major tournament.  

And as a result, his fall is the most heartbreaking of the lot. The unfairly decried charlatan of modern football is the same man who built a deeply underrated dynasty at Bolton before keeping Blackburn, West Ham and Sunderland afloat in the most competitive league in Europe.

And it was this hard apprenticeship that convinced the FA to defy the trendy naysayers and appoint him.

“I think we make mistakes when we are down here and our spirit has to come back and learn,” Hoddle mused at the beginning of his ill-fated 1999 interview. As the FA and Allardyce consider their exit strategy from this latest sorry mess, it’s difficult to be sure what either party will have learned.

The FA, desperately short of options could theoretically turn again to a reborn Hoddle. Allardyce, on the other hand, faces his own long exile. 

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