I spent all last week in Asia, at events put on by the International Association of Universities (IAU) in Tokyo and the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) in Jakarta. As usual, these meetings were interesting for me not so much because I can discover secrets of “how they do things better elsewhere” (they don’t, by and large, we’re all screwed for roughly the same reasons, which is that the public does not want to pay for the kind of institutions that academics want to work in), but simply because they help me get a wider take on the direction that global academia is heading.

And here’s the thing: having sat through five days of meetings, I am more convinced than ever that universities are, globally, caught in a conflict of their basic institutional logics. And also, that for some reason, no one wants to talk about this openly even though it is self-evidently a pretty big deal. Let me explain.

Over the course of the 19^th and 20^th centuries, at different paces in different parts of the world, universities went from being purely institutions of instruction to institutions that also engaged in advanced research. In the United States, where this process went the furthest, the fastest, it was shaped substantially by one man: Vannevar Bush, President of MIT and special scientific advisor to President Roosevelt during WWII. Bush was appropriately excited by the strides made by American science during the war, and wanted the party to continue after the war was over only with one difference: instead of giving scientists untold billions and placing them under military control as was the case for the Manhattan Project, Bush thought the correct path forward was for the government to give scientists untold billions and then leave them alone to make their own decisions about how the money should be spent. That’s not quite how things panned out, but there is no question that the system of curiosity-driven research that emerged gave an awful lot of power to individual researchers and left universities as mere intermediaries for funding. Or, as a colleague sometimes puts it, with respect to research missions, universities are simply holding companies for the research agendas of individual professors.

And let’s face it, this worked well for many decades. The scientific output of universities working under this model has been amazing (see my interview with David Baker on global science from a few weeks ago). And it didn’t require universities to take on a particularly dirigiste role with respect to the faculty. In some ways, quite the opposite. It was during this period after all that a professor challenged then-Columbia President Eisenhower with the immortal words: “we faculty are not employees of the university…we are the university.” So as far as anyone could tell, the public could just dump money on scholars working in hubs and good things would happen.

Somewhere over the past few decades, though, the mission of universities changed. Instead of being asked to provide research, they were asked to promote local economic growth, or provide solutions to “grand challenges” or sustainable development goals. And these were challenges that universities took on—gladly for the most part. “Look!” they said to themselves, “Society wants our knowledge/help/advice, we get to show how useful we are, and then people will love us and give us even more money.” And trust me, this is happening All. Over. The. World. Oh sure, the details vary a bit by place in terms of whether the push is more on institutions to push local economic growth or to help deliver social progress, and the extent to which this obligation is imposed on institutions and to what extent they embrace it on their own…but the trend is universal, unmistakable. 

Except (how can I put this?) I am fairly sure that the lessons institutions learned with respect to growing research outputs do not translate well into these new missions. Research is something that can be done within academia; these new tasks require partnerships and relationships. Things which institutions are a lot more capable of delivering reliably than individual professors, whose commitment to particular endeavors may be more transitory, shaped as they often are by the availability of funding streams, changing research interests, the occasional switch of institutions, etc.

It has taken universities awhile to work this out. The initial assumption that universities could take on all these missions could be met in much the same way that the research mission was: just assemble a lot of smart people in one place, and wonderfully imaginative solutions will naturally emerge. No central coordination necessary, and great universities could continue working as they had always done: like a great jazz band, where the anarchy is the point.

But if these new missions actually imply a need for more durable structures to bring stability to partnerships and relationships, then a jazz band approach is probably not such a hot idea. If these missions require institutions to be able to act corporately, strategically, then jazz doesn’t cut it anymore. Neither does Big Band. You need something closer to a symphony orchestra. And boy, the implication of that change is significant. The locus of control and responsibility shifts upwards from professors to the larger institution. Professors, increasingly, would need to be treated as if they are second cello—that is, as parts of a larger musical enterprise—instead of as Thelonius Monk or John Coltrane. It would be a fundamental re-think of what it means to be an academic.

There you have it: an old version of a university in which great things happen just because you put a bunch of smart people in close proximity to one another, and another which requires substantially more organization and (in a Weberian sense) bureaucracy. And it’s not that universities are being asked to choose—they aren’t. It’s worse than that: because these new missions are meant to be in addition to the older ones of teaching and research, universities are being asked to be both of these things at the same time. And that’s a recipe not only for unhappiness, but also for incoherence. Universities are simply becoming less effective as their missions multiply. 

None of this has escaped the notice of governments. They were mostly quite enthusiastic about the idea of universities as community resources, places that in effect apply brain power on-demand to various types of social and economic problems and are getting frustrated that jazz-based universities can’t deliver. Despite promises to the contrary, old-style universities simply aren’t set up to deliver the promised results, leaving an expectations gap that is souring relations with that subset of governments that don’t view higher education as the enemy in the first place.

And this, in turn, is contributing to a widespread recession in vibes around universities: simply put, they are not liked and admired the way they used to be. But more on that tomorrow.