Campus Review Vol 29. Issue 6 June 2019 | Page 14

policy & reform are simply withdrawing from the rankings game. After all, no-one forces universities to help the predatory corporations that produce these league tables. Bear in mind that this ‘obsession’ is carefully fostered by the corporations University management now promotes a corporate culture glorifying ‘leaders’, and the top leaders now pay themselves on the corporate model – a million dollars a year. themselves, which produce many sub- rankings to boast about – and then sell universities advice on how to improve their ranks. You’re critical of that traditional paradigm of imparting knowledge used in most universities: the lecture. What do you take issue with, and what are the alternatives? The lecture is a classic case of the ’empty vessel’ model of teaching. Students are supposed to be empty of knowledge; lecturers, who are full of it, pour the precious fluid into the students’ heads. It’s incredibly inefficient, as anyone knows who has looked at the notes that students write. But lecturing is cheap, packing in up to 500 at a time. And cheaper still online. You don’t need lectures to teach a university course, at any level. Good university teaching starts where the students are, engages their creativity, gets students learning together, uses a whole variety of resources. Students do the main work of learning. There’s still a very active role for the teacher in this – learning about the students, organising groups, finding technical resources, diagnosing problems, leading discussions into the zone where the next discovery has to be made. In some Latin American contexts, the teacher is described as an ‘accompanist’ to learning, and I think that’s a nice way of putting it. Lectures have some uses. They can be public gatherings, they can put a human face on research and researchers, they can put groups of students in touch with 12 campusreview.com.au each other. But those are special events. We shouldn’t make lectures the routine of teaching and then complain that students aren’t interested in learning. You also explore how much of what we call knowledge is or has been produced in universities through research. But, you point out that most of this knowledge has to be produced in certain parts of the globe, or published in certain papers, for it to gain traction. Can you explain the history of this hierarchy, and how we can break out of it? It’s a big story, going back about 500 years. When powerful European states invaded overseas, they brought back more than gold and silver, coffee and sugar from the plantations. They also brought back data, masses of it, which went into the making of biology, astronomy, geology, social science, linguistics and much more. We should know that very well in Australia! Lieutenant Cook bumped into our east coast precisely because he was on a data-gathering expedition. He called the landing place Botany Bay because the scientists on his ship were so excited by the plants they found here. So the colonial world became a vast data mine, while the information was processed and theorised in the learned societies, botanic gardens, museums and universities of the imperial centre back around the North Atlantic. The result is not ‘Western’ science, it’s ‘imperial‘ science. That pattern survived the end of the old empires. The key scientific research centres, the major databases, the majority of journals (and all the most prestigious), are based in the rich countries of the global north, but they depend on data from the rest of the world. Academic work in the rest of the world normally follows the models of the US and western Europe. How to break out of that? It’s not easy. This hierarchy is deeply ingrained, and it has now got mixed up with the commercialisation of research. But there are many things we can do to get started. Disconnecting from Eurocentric status games is one. Making practical connections around the post-colonial world is another. We can share curricula, we can share research. I’ve published papers in journals from Mexico, Colombia, Sri Lanka and China, and I’ve been in research teams with colleagues from Chile, Japan, Brazil and South Africa. I’m not alone in this, of course. The resources are enormous, but they are dispersed. In practical terms, what actions need to be taken so we can transform universities into more equal, fair and ideal environments for students and staff? We can change public policies. University councils and vice-chancellors should be elected. Universities should be financed as a mainstream public service, not by fees. Policy should not force universities to compete with each other, it should support cooperation and joint planning. If we want the university system to educate students from poorer countries, we should fund it to do so properly, and not treat students as ATMs with legs. We can change internal workings. We can democratise universities’ decision-making. This is not rocket science, we know how to run institutions democratically. We can link curricula better to the diversity of students, though it will need some hard work. We can put effort into making equality of access a reality: start by thinking who is not at university. We should tell university managers to sell the Mercedes, zero out the advertising budget, and forget the glitzy prestige buildings. Universities should be modest in everything except their intellectual ambitions. I really appreciated how you didn’t shy away from lampooning the language of upper management. For instance, quoting a line from your book: “No university president opens their mouth in public without the word ‘excellence’ floating out.” From your own experience, is this exasperation with empty rhetoric shared by your colleagues? Too right! There are lots of colleagues who just sigh when the latest blast of hot air floats past. Eventually the boasting (fuelled by the league tables), the empty pronouncements (“If You Change Nothing, Nothing Will Change”), and the sheer silliness of slogans (“Never Stand Still”) can be numbing. I think it’s worse than annoying. Together with image-fabrication through advertising, all this undermines the universities’ cultural role. The business of universities is to sustain the search for truth, to be the site of open inquiry and a source of reliable knowledge. That role is now at stake. ■