Everything palls, everything passes, everything perishes

In his book, The Uses of a University, Clark Kerr, former President of the University of California, underscores the longevity of universities:

Eighty-five institutions in the Western world established by 1500 still exist in recognisable forms, with similar functions and unbroken histories, including the Catholic church, the Parliaments of the Isle of Man, Iceland, and Great Britain, several Swiss cantons, and 70 universities. Kings that rule, feudal lords with vassals, and guilds with monopolies are all gone. These seventy universities, however, are still in the same locations with some of the same buildings, with professors and students doing much the same things and with governance carried on in much the same ways.

Clearly, universities are venerable institutions, but an ancient heritage does not guarantee a rosy future. The Roman Catholic Church had been dominant in England for almost 1,000 years when it rejected Henry VIII’s request to have his marriage annulled. Henry’s revenge - the dissolution of the monasteries, abbeys, and friaries and the sacking of thousands of priests, deans, and bishops - took less than five years. The French Revolution required only three years to topple a 900-year-old monarchy. The Soviet Union went from a functioning (albeit troubled) nation to the “former Soviet Union” in only a few months. 

Some years ago, Simon Marginson, a leading expert on higher education, urged universities to address social needs lest they go the same way as the monasteries:

Nothing in the world, not even the rock beneath our feet, abideth forever. Every so often, nation-states and societies discover that they can live without inherited institutions. When institutions stand for nothing more, nothing deeper or more collective, no greater public good than the aggregation of self-interest - like the monasteries in … England, that accumulated vast social resources but came to exist only for themselves and those who used them - it is then that institutions are vulnerable. 

Clark Kerr would undoubtedly agree. He understood that universities need a purpose that addresses the needs of those who work or study in them and those of the greater society. Without such a higher purpose, Kerr, like Marginson, feared universities would lose public support. And this is what is beginning to happen. Formerly friendly commentators describe universities as “corrupted by their scrabbling for money” and governed by “naked self-interest.” Illiberal speech codes, the victimisation of dissidents, and scandals over corrupt admissions have taken a high toll on the reputation of higher education institutions. 

How can universities convince the public that, despite recent comments to the contrary, those who work in higher education are primarily interested in the public good? An excellent place to start is with Adam Smith, the gentle Scottish genius, who believed it was the government’s duty to support institutions that are “advantageous to society [but] of such a nature, that the profit could not repay the expense to any individual.”

Smith did not call such institutions “public goods,” nor did he give any examples. The task of defining the term “public good” was left to John Stuart Mill, who proposed a lighthouse as an example. Although it serves a vital function, Mill believed a lighthouse could never make a profit because anyone with eyes could use it for free. Mill concluded that taxpayers must fund lighthouses as no one would be willing to finance one privately. 

Universities do not fit Smith and Mill’s description of a public good. Universities confer private benefits on their students and staff, and they have no difficulty excluding “free-riders.” Some universities even make profits. It seems fair to conclude that universities are not by their nature public goods. If they wish to serve the general public, they must consciously set out to create goods the public wants.  

As Marginson puts it:

Universities have lost their rationale and need to reground themselves in the social. They will need to find a way to visibly create global public goods if they are not to follow the Tudor Monasteries and the Library of Alexandria! 

In the present age of money, in which all activities are assessed in financial terms, it is not surprising that universities claim they contribute to the public good by making countries prosperous. For example, a report published by the Group of 8 (a club of Australian research universities) boasts that its members contributed $66.4 billion to the national economy in a single year. Universities UK claims that universities in England contribute around £95 billion to the economy and support more than 815,000 jobs. The Institute of International Education calculates that international university students contribute $44.7 billion to the US economy. These are all impressively big numbers. They must be significant to convince governments, benefactors, and the public that they are getting something substantial back for the resources they put into higher education.

If higher education’s claims about economic impact are just puffery, they do little harm. But, suppose policymakers started taking them seriously? They might notice that, despite their name, economic impact studies have nothing to do with economics. They omit an essential ingredient—what economists call “opportunity costs.” That is, they do not compare the economic impact of an investment in universities with other potential investments such as a bigger airport, a new factory, or simply giving the billions spent on higher education back to citizens through tax cuts. Because they do not require long languid summer holidays, field sporting teams, or send their staff on extended sabbaticals, airports, factories and tax refunds generate jobs and wealth more efficiently than universities. If economic growth is the goal, why filter money through expensive universities? Why not invest directly in profit-generating infrastructure and businesses? 

If universities are not an efficient way to grow the economy, what is their purpose? Many people have tried to answer this question. For example, the European Union’s Magna Charta Universitatum states that a university “is the trustee of the European humanist tradition.” Not a bad start, but, like many similar declarations, it is rather vague. What is the “European humanist tradition?”

Clark Kerr was a bit clearer. He believed that universities have a moral purpose. Universities should not only create knowledge but should also articulate “the values that our knowledge should enable us to serve.” 

The former Minister of National Education of Romania and distinguished academic, Andrei Marga, also sees universities as moral institutions. He says, “The human life meaningfully lived implies solid values, and their cultivation, including ethically, [and this] requires the action of universities.” 

American academic David Kirp says that, since the 1970s, universities have opened their doors to a far greater diversity of students and faculty. Still, he asks, “into what kind of place, with what values, are these newcomers gaining membership?”

Former Stanford University President Donald Kennedy also believed that there is a “deep relationship between knowledge and values” and that universities play a “decisive role in the formation of a vision about society among its graduates.” 

What do Kerr, Marga, Kirp, and Kennedy have in common? They all fear universities will lose public support without a clear moral purpose. This was not always a concern. Consider the story of Jonas Salk. In 1955, he launched a human trial of a polio vaccine he had developed over years of research. (As a child, I was a subject in that trial.) The vaccine was hugely successful; Salk became famous but he did not become rich. He never tried to gain monopoly profits by licensing his discovery to a single drug company, nor did the University of Pittsburgh, where he worked. Instead, they licensed the vaccine to any company competent to manufacture it. Salk and his university wanted to disseminate the vaccine as widely as possible; making money was never their goal.  

No one working in higher education could imagine this happening at any university today. In Salk’s day, universities had well-understood moral purposes, and people trusted them. Today, universities are just another set of commercial players. Of course, universities must be competitive and commercially oriented. They cannot afford to be (nor should they be) against making money. There is nothing improper in universities trying to exploit the commercial value of their intellectual property. But commercial transactions carry their own ethical imperatives, which may not be compatible with traditional academic values or the best interests of the larger society.

Let me illustrate some of the problems. In a survey of 2200 medical scientists, 410 admitted to holding back the publication of their research results. They wanted to ensure that they, and their commercial sponsors, had time to safeguard their property rights. Holding back research results is not illegal, but when it happens, bedrock academic values - openness and the free expression of ideas - collide with the commercial necessity to protect profits. And profits almost always win. 

Commercial considerations not only influence when results get published but also which results get published. For example, a Stanford University study found that 98% of pharmaceutical research papers sponsored by drug companies report that the drugs are effective. In contrast, only 79% of non-company-sponsored research papers report positive results. 

If universities were just businesses, then no one would worry about profits coming first. But profit-making institutions do not have a claim to public subsidies. After all, why should taxpayers subsidise an institution that benefits from monopoly profits? By stressing their utilitarian nature, universities have neglected the opportunity to promote their vital social benefits.

What are the social benefits of universities?

Nobel Laureate Friedrich Hayek argued that we should judge social institutions by the extent to which they promote human liberty and freedom—not a bad yardstick. Universities can promote liberty and freedom in four ways: 

(1) by producing graduates who promote liberty,

(2) by giving graduates the freedom to choose how they will live,

(3) by encouraging diversity, and 

(4) by instilling in graduates a set of pro-freedom values and ethics. 

Preparing graduates for work is an excellent way to foster freedom. Lawyers advance the cause of justice, while doctors liberate the sick from disease and suffering. Scientists and engineers make discoveries that free people from drudgery. More generally, through discussions with academics and other students and by participation in clubs, politics, and sports, students learn the building blocks of a free society - freedom of expression, mutual tolerance, and respect for intellectual debate. And, let us not forget that education gives people greater freedom to choose how they work and live.

Universities also promote freedom by fostering diversity. Students do not only learn from lecturers; they learn their most important lessons from one another. One of the benefits of attending a university is the opportunity to meet students from around the world. By living and studying together, students get the chance to see the world through one another’s eyes. In this way, diversity deepens students’ understanding and tolerance for others.

Most importantly, universities can promote freedom and democracy by building character. Indeed, from ancient times right up to the 20th Century, it was taken for granted that the primary purpose of education was moral. With the decline in religion (at least in the West), it has become impossible for today’s secular universities to provide the prescriptive moral education of the past. In addition, the postmodern denial of universal standards, morals, and values and its scorn for the achievements of the Enlightenment has taken a severe toll on universities.

Muddled by relativism, universities fear championing the ideals at the core of western civilisation, ultimately sapping their confidence. In Kennedy’s words again: 

It is not difficult to conclude that the role of universities has been partially diminished by their own failure to exercise intellectual leadership in the areas that a thoughtful public believes to be important.

How can we expect our students to analyse ethical issues such as stem cell research, nanotechnology, euthanasia, gender identity, abortion, or freedom of speech if we do not show them how? Indeed, a higher education that is worth anything at all should equip students with a sense of morality and ethics. By refusing to teach students about civility and responsibility, universities have abandoned an essential part of their traditional mission.

How can universities achieve moral aims? In a secular age, it won’t be easy.

Still, they should not give up just because the challenges are significant. Universities cannot build character unless they provide good role models. Students learn ethics by being part of an ethical community. Universities can begin at the individual level by insisting that staff and students respect others, behave civilly, and meet their obligations. Academics must meet classes on time, return assignments promptly and mark fairly. They must also stay active in their fields, update their teaching materials and use effective teaching methods.  

At the institutional level, universities need policies about how long research results can be kept secret, and they must enforce these policies even if their corporate sponsors object. Universities must develop rules on conflict of interest. Academics with a financial interest in drug firms should reveal their interest to anyone considering participating in their research. Universities also require workable policies for academic freedom. As long as they are competent professionals, academics should not see their careers die because their views do not accord with the current wisdom.

The most crucial challenge facing universities is to articulate a vision of what they are trying to achieve for society and then live up to it. If they can demonstrate their social value, they will recapture the respect they once enjoyed. If they fail, they risk becoming little more than self-seeking institutions. If this happens, they will ultimately go the way of the monasteries, and we would all be much poorer for that.