The term “Multiversity”
first gained widespread recognition when Berkeley Chancellor and University of
California President Clark Kerr used it to describe the institution he saw
evolving before his eyes up and down the Pacific Coast, across a growing number
of campuses responsible for a growing number of students and home to a growing
number of faculty researchers and teachers.
Kerr described the Multiversity
as a “‘pluralistic’ institution—pluralistic in several senses: in having
several purposes, not one; in having several centers of power, not one; in
serving several clienteles, not one. It worshiped
no single God, it constituted no single, unified community; it had no
discretely defined set of customers. It was
marked by many visions of the Good, the True, and the Beautiful, and by many roads
to achieve these visions; by power conflicts; by service to many markets and
concern for many publics” (2001: 103).
Although Kerr always
positioned himself as the Multiversity’s describer rather than its defender, it
is hard to argue that the transformative higher education leader did not,
ultimately, embrace the beast that emerged—organically in his argument—under his
stewardship.
The University of
Nevada, Las Vegas, is attempting to undergo a similar transition today. To a certain extent, any existing public
research university in the United States already has a great deal of the “Multiversity”
in its DNA. But through its Tier 1
initiative, and its search for a new campus President, UNLV is making a conscious
effort to position itself as something new in relation to its students,
faculty, and community.
A key component of this
ambition comes from the University’s relationship to the wider regional and
state community and from the aspiration to use UNLV as a means to “stimulate
entrepreneurship, job creation, and economic vitality throughout the
surrounding region” (UNLV: The Path to Tier 1, Sept. 2014). This component focuses on increasing research
productivity and creating a more utilitarian version of the University, and is
connected to the widely-recognised need of the state and regional economy to
diversify.
The second major
component required for Tier 1 status is to retain students and improve
graduation times and rates, while improving the general “student experience” on
campus.
Elements of these
ambitions are reminiscent of the transformation that the University of
California was undergoing fifty years ago as the state and university were
buoyed by new connections to the military-industrial complex, and by the
efforts of a visionary state government comprehensively committed to expanding
and enriching the public sphere, something that helped to keep UC focused—although
not as much as some would have liked—on its public mission to students as well
as the state’s economy.
UC’s transformation and
UNLV’s efforts to remake itself are expensive processes, requiring sustained
effort and investment. Even in 1950s and
‘60s California, under public works promoter Pat Brown, there were losers in
such a process.
Many students, even
before the Free Speech Movement gripped the Berkeley campus, were restive in
the face of the changes sweeping their institution. Many felt that they were the victims of the
transition from a “university” to a “Multiversity”, and criticized the ways in
which the teaching mission became divorced from and subordinated to the imperatives
to produce research. Campus units were
seen as under-resourced, and there were divisions about the priorities given
certain disciplines relative to others.
In contrast to public
universities of the 1960s, UNLV is not the recipient of generous public
funding, being located in a state defined by highly-individualistic politics
anathema to more than cursory consideration of the common good, a politics which
might change as the state’s population stabilizes and there are increasing
numbers of multi-generation “Nevadan” families.
Nor is tuition free in 2010s Nevada as it was in California until the
1970s when Ronald Reagan introduced it at UC to punish the students against
whom he crusaded with such physical and structural violence as Governor. It strikes me as being a perilous
political-economic environment in which to pursue ambitions which are in other
respects often commendable.
As they develop their
plans and search for a President, UNLV’s leadership will be aware of these
challenges associated of making a costly transition to Tier 1 in a lean
environment informed by public austerity in spite of the region’s great private
wealth. And it does so as an institution
which, because of reduced public funding, rising tuition, and the need to
depend on philanthropy, is already in some ways moving down the road to
privatization.
Here too, developments
at the University of California offer some points of comparison. Rising tuition has terribly over-burdened that
system’s comparatively affluent student body.
The increases in tuition which seem likely to accompany Tier 1 (and I’ve
heard voices say that current tuition levels at UNLV somehow “undervalue” the
institution, and should be raised to enhance its profile) will place a greater
burden on UNLV’s more diverse student body in a way that might very well
compromise efforts at improving retention and completion.
The separation between
teaching and research that is slowly occurring at UC—particularly in STEM
fields—together with the increased burden placed on faculty in institutions
which are expanding their capacities and ambitions in spite of inadequate
resources means that students struggle to gain access to research faculty and
the opportunities that come with such access, and are increasingly taught by adjunct
faculty. Those faculty are often superb
teachers, but are victims of academic casualization and in many instances have
to survive on woefully inadequate wages.
Many top departments at
UC see retaining large numbers of graduate students as central to their
prestige and to supporting faculty research (again, particularly in STEM
fields). Many have persisted in doing so
in spite of dire job markets. This practice,
common across research universities, leads to a glut of graduate students on
the academic market in particular, doing a disservice to students who are often
lured into academia without anyone having an honest conversation with them
about the state of the market and field.
One part of the Tier 1 push at UNLV involves increasing the number of
graduate students. The reasoning is that
southern Nevada suffers from a shortage of highly-skilled labour. I assume that Tier 1 proponents have taken
into account the fact that local graduates will be competing with a national
market that is not in every instance experiencing such a shortage (particularly
in the absence of public investment in venues for skilled labour). Nevada, Clark County, and Las Vegas should not
be assumed to be captive markets for UNLV graduates.
In listening to presidential
candidates last week I was struck by the range of tones and views of the
process, and of the anxieties associated with the search and the transition to
Tier 1.
Students asked about tuition
increases and their role in what might effectively become a Multiversity. Faculty wondered about the fate of their
disciplines in the increasingly utilitarian, short-termist environment that
increasingly defines academia, once an environment that encouraged people to
think about the long term. These
concerns speak to the capacity—well developed at UC—for the institutional
interests and goals of the Multiversity as an institution to diverge wildly from
those of core members of its community.
Candidates sought to
reassure faculty that when they discussed Tier 1, they meant it as a process
for everyone. One individual cited the
need for a transparent process with metrics that allowed all campus units to
shine. But transparency has little to do
with equity, and metrics for measuring performance are not neutral. Their provenance matters and many of the
metrics that increasingly define the higher education sphere in the U.S. and
worldwide don’t allow all academic fields to be equally legible. Their politics ensure that some fields and
research endeavors will register at a different rate than others.
Candidates discussed “advancing”
the state of Nevada. But I wonder about
the capacity for this if the University proposes to remain dependent on public
support. I’m a newcomer to the state
with an admittedly superficial understanding of its demographics and society,
but nothing that I’ve seen so far of its libertarian, individual-centred politics
indicates much interest in the kind of “advancement” with which a public
university could traditionally assist.
But some candidates
made it clear that in their view public-affiliation is a liability. “Self-sufficiency” was one oft-repeated euphemism
for privatization. And some candidates,
evincing little understanding of the human element of a public university, or
of the intellectual lessons of the humanities and social sciences, discussed
the “inevitability” of the privatization and monetization processes, declaring
that “there is no going back!”
But of course as
historians can tell you, nothing is inevitable.
Changes and processes are driven by political decisions, some conscious,
others less so, but all of them to some degree contingent on politics. The ability of an institution like a
university to affect that politics may be limited, but it is dishonest to
suggest that history rolls inexorably towards a harsher less equitable world.
Clark Kerr invoked this
same logic in describing the Multiversity, describing it as “an imperative
rather than a reasoned choice among elegant alternatives. Kerr was more honest when he described the
Multiversity as “based more on conflict and on interaction” than its
predecessor institutions (2001: 5, 106), because such is the logic of the
market which then as now was seen as a juggernaut to be ridden rather than
resisted.
But Kerr was not
content to defang his critics with the Whiggish reading of history that
obscured the agency of politics and political actors. He simultaneously aimed to extirpate what he
saw as the inappropriate “nostalgia” and “romantic dreams” of “a campus community
of close-knit friends engaged in collegiate activities”. No longer was it acceptable to be engaged in “surveying
the world and its evils and wishing to set them aright” in his new Multiversity,
an institution that now resembled a “city of great variety”. “Nostalgia”, he wrote, “is for the very old
and dreams are for the very young, not for those navigating the swiftly-flowing
currents of life” (2003: 22).
The insistence that the
age of dreams is dead and that we must choose between being victims of or proselytizers
for events beyond our control is dispiriting, and designed to incapacitate critics
of particular politics and particular trends.
It is an age-old tactic, but one which, whatever you think of Tier 1
(and there is much good in the aspirations behind the push), seems appalling to
deploy in universities, which many of us think of institutions where people can
and must remain free to dream…not because universities are removed from the
world, but because they offer glimpses of its future, whether in the students
they are charged with nurturing, or in the work they do to make that world a
more bearable, just place.
In many ways, the
discussions on campus of the past week are a reminder that in Nevada as in
California, a fait accompli of sorts is occurring in higher education when it
comes to privatization and the long-term trajectory of these institutions. Lots of big decisions are occurring, quietly
and in some cases by default. In some
instances this has to do with the character of administrators and the nature of
decision-making. In others it has to do
with a political environment that administrators, faculty, staff, students, and
parents are unwilling to challenge.
And it nearly always
has something to do with a discussion of institutional change that focuses on
what their proponents describe as objective process rather than on the small-p “politics”
that produces those processes and makes them weighted with significance for the
future of our institutions and society.
If changes are going to
occur, particularly in some of our society’s most treasured public
institutions, it seems as though those should be as a result of frank, honest,
and very public conversations, not by default or as a result of public
quiescence.
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Clark Kerr, The Uses of the University (Cambridge:
Harvard University Press, 2001).
Clark Kerr, The Gold and the Blue (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 2003).