Edinburgh University. Photo: Flickr/[Duncan]
Show Hide image

What would the future hold for Scottish higher education in an independent Scotland?

STEM academics are planning to vote No in today's referendum over concerns that they will lose a significant amount of UK-wide research funding.

In a Times Higher Education poll carried out last month, more than 1,000 academics and administrators from a range of top Scottish universities were asked whether Scottish universities should welcome independence.

The majority of them – 55 per cent – said Scotland should remain in the UK, while only 30 per cent disagreed. The remaining 15 per cent were uncertain or indifferent.

Opinion was divided by discipline, with the majority of Scottish academics in science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM) subjects planning to vote No in today's referendum. They cited their concern that they will lose a significant amount of UK-wide research funding. Arts and humanities academics, on the other hand, appear to be more pro-independence. This division isn’t surprising: STEM students rely more heavily on funding and grants from UK-wide research councils than those in the arts and humanities

At present, researchers within the UK are able to take advantage of access to world leading facilities, and benefit from their membership of over two hundred international centres, in everything from advanced computing and large longitudinal data sets to the work of the European Centre for Nuclear Research (CERN).

Last year Scotland secured more than £250m of the UK Research Council’s grants. This represents around a sixth of all its funding - a substantial amount given Scotland accounts for just 8 per cent of the UK population’s and GDP. 

Alongside public funding, Scotland also receives much financial support from charities. In 2011 roughly 14 per cent of funding raised by members of the Association of Medical Research Charities was spent north of the border. 

If Scotland does become an independent country, UK national funding agencies are likely to prioritise funding for the rest of the UK. Research collaborations would be viewed as “international collaborations” and receive grants from a much smaller international funding pot. There is much uncertainty over whether an independent Scotland would be able to make use of the perks they currently enjoy as part of the UK. As Sharon Mudie of the University of Dundee’s College of Life Sciences put it in the THE report: 

We rely on UK charitable donations to carry out our research. We have been given no idea of how an independent Scotland would maintain this level of funding as most of the current funding would be lost if we leave the UK.”

Similarly, a letter written collectively by the presidents of the Royal Society, the British Academy, and the Academy of Medical Sciences argued:

We believe that if separation were to occur, research not only in Scotland but also in the rest of the UK would suffer. However, research in Scotland would be more vulnerable and there could be significant reductions in range, capability and critical mass."

Scotland would have to make up for the loss in funding somehow, and it is unclear where the additional money would come from. Would Scottish students continue to attend university for free? With five universities in the world’s top 200, and with a share of the world’s top 1 per cent publications, Scotland is thriving as a key part of the current UK-wide system. Would Scotland’s success continue?

Show Hide image

Leader: Mourning in Manchester

Yet another attack shows we are going to have to get to used to the idea that our liberalism and our freedoms can only be preserved by a strong state.

Children are murdered and maimed by a suicide bomber as they are leaving a pop concert in Manchester. As a consequence, the government raises the terror threat to “critical”, which implies that another attack is imminent, and the army is sent out on to the streets of our cities in an attempt to reassure and encourage all good citizens to carry on as normal. The general election campaign is suspended. Islamic State gleefully denounces the murdered and wounded as “crusaders” and “polytheists”.

Meanwhile, the usual questions are asked, as they are after each new Islamist terrorist atrocity. Why do they hate us so much? Have they no conscience or pity or sense of fellow feeling? We hear, too, the same platitudes: there is more that unites us than divides us, and so on. And so we wait for the next attack on innocent civilians, the next assault on the free and open society, the next demonstration that Islamism is the world’s most malignant and dangerous ideology.

The truth of the matter is that the Manchester suicide bomber, Salman Ramadan Abedi, was born and educated in Britain. He was 22 when he chose to end his own life. He had grown up among us: indeed, like the London bombers of 7 July 2005, you could call him, however reluctantly, one of us. The son of Libyan refugees, he supported Manchester United, studied business management at Salford University and worshipped at Didsbury Mosque. Yet he hated this country and its people so viscerally that he was prepared to blow himself up in an attempt to murder and wound as many of his fellow citizens as possible.

The Manchester massacre was an act of nihilism by a wicked man. It was also sadly inevitable. “The bomb was,” writes the Mancunian cultural commentator Stuart Maconie on page 26, “as far as we can guess, an attack on the fans of a young American woman and entertainer, on the frivolousness and foolishness and fun of young girlhood, on lipstick and dressing up and dancing, on ‘boyfs’ and ‘bezzies’ and all the other freedoms that so enrage the fanatics and contradict their idiot dogmas. Hatred of women is a smouldering core of their wider, deeper loathing for us. But to single out children feels like a new low of wickedness.”

We understand the geopolitical context for the atrocity. IS is under assault and in retreat in its former strongholds of Mosul and Raqqa. Instead of urging recruits to migrate to the “caliphate”, IS has been urging its sympathisers and operatives in Europe to carry out attacks in their countries of residence. As our contributing writer and terrorism expert, Shiraz Maher, explains on page 22, these attacks are considered to be acts of revenge by the foot soldiers and fellow-travellers of the caliphate. There have been Western interventions in Muslim lands and so, in their view, all civilians in Western countries are legitimate targets for retaliatory violence.

An ever-present threat of terrorism is the new reality of our lives in Europe. If these zealots can murder children at an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester, there is no action that they would not consider unconscionable. And in this country there are many thousands – perhaps even tens of thousands – who are in thrall to Islamist ideology. “Terror makes the new future possible,” the American Don DeLillo wrote in his novel Mao II, long before the al-Qaeda attacks of 11 September 2001. The main work of terrorists “involves mid-air explosions and crumbled buildings. This is the new tragic narrative.”

Immediately after the Paris attacks in November 2015, John Gray reminded us in these pages of how “peaceful coexistence is not the default condition of modern humankind”. We are going to have to get used to the idea that our liberalism and our freedoms can only be preserved by a strong state. “The progressive narrative in which freedom is advancing throughout the world has left liberal societies unaware of their fragility,” John Gray wrote. Liberals may not like it, but a strong state is the precondition of any civilised social order. Certain cherished freedoms may have to be compromised. This is the new tragic narrative.

This article first appeared in the 25 May 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Why Islamic State targets Britain

0800 7318496