An Idea for Public Education: Disintermediation!

The problem: public education at tertiary level in the humanities, in the UK, has been abolished. In some other places in the world it has never existed. We even now hear regular denials that a Public Good is obviously constituted by an accessible system of advanced training in the great ideas and arguments that humans have come up with over the course of their history. 

There are large numbers of people, some of whom I know personally, who want to study but can’t afford it and are terrified of incurring lifelong debt. Some of them belong to the long-term unemployed and are bored to insanity. There are also many people, some of whom I know, who would love to teach them and are prepared to do so for free. Pro Bono edification.

The only thing that is stopping the aspiring learners meeting the aspiring teachers is the 'For-Profit' model that has been imposed on Higher Education, along with self-appointed professional managers. These people, often scarcely literate, work on behalf of neither students nor teachers but for themselves, thereby extracting large salaries.

The solution: wide publicity surrounding a really ‘open’ university--one so open that it is, in fact, free of charge altogether.  I propose a new model of an inclusive university which shows governments and Vice-Chancellors and ‘For-Profit Educators’ that all you actually need for exciting and useful education is a keen learner and a bit of inspiration and guidance from an expert teacher. The father of my children tells me that removing the greedy middle management, which skims layers of unnecessary renumeration off the fundamental encounter between student and teacher, is called by business people ‘disintermediation’.

Lectures could be ‘donated’ by experts and uploaded on youtube.edu; committed academics, with PhD students to support them, could donate an hour or two a week to run Skype and/or email seminars, and grade a paper; materials would need to be exclusively those which are available free-of-all-financial-charge on the web. I have already run several such courses, aware of the poverty afflicting some of my undergraduates, which has put book-buying beyond their reach. Not to mention the problems that London University libraries pose physically to people in wheelchairs.

The study of ancient Greek and Roman authors is an ideal area for a pilot Humanities ‘degree’ course at The Really Open University, because the texts are almost all well out of copyright and available to anyone who can access the Internet (and I do know this will unfortunately not be everyone as long as the Digital Divide persists).

The practicalities: the project would need:

• A better name than The Really Open University
• Academics to volunteer a course curriculum or a youtube.edu lecture;
• A public discussion of the best way to administer admissions (I for one would suggest simply the invention of a machine that measured motivation), the student/teacher interface, and accreditation.

Intellectual culture is far too precious to be left to anti-humanist managers and money men. Any comments and suggestions more than gratefully received.  ¡No Pasarán! LET'S DISINTERMEDIATE!

On an Idea for Public Education

The problem: public education at tertiary level in the humanities, in the UK, has been abolished. In some other places in the world it has never existed.  We now hear regular denials even that a Public Good is obviously constituted by an accessible system of advanced training in the great ideas and arguments that humans have come up with over the course of their history. 

There are large numbers of people, some of whom I know personally, who want to study but can’t afford it and are terrified of incurring lifelong debt. Some of them belong to the long-term unemployed. There are also many people, some of whom I know, who would love to teach them and are prepared to do so for free. Pro Bono edification.

The only thing that is stopping the aspiring learners meeting the aspiring teachers is the for-profit model that has been imposed on Higher Education, along with self-appointed professional managers. These people, often scarcely literate, work on behalf of neither students nor teachers but for themselves, thereby extracting large salaries.

One Solution: a really ‘open’ university--one so open that it is, in fact, free of charge altogether.  I propose a new model of an inclusive university which shows governments and Vice-Chancellors and ‘For-Profit Educators’ that all you actually need for education is a keen learner and a bit of inspiration and guidance from an expert and sympathetic teacher. Education is a consensual act between two people, who do not need to be 'managed'. The father of my children tells me that removing the greedy middle management, which skims layers of unnecessary renumeration off the fundamental encounter between student and teacher, is called by business people ‘disintermediation’.

Lectures could be ‘donated’ by experts and uploaded on youtube.edu; committed academics, with PhD students to support them, could donate an hour or two a week to run Skype, email seminars, and grade a paper; materials would need to be exclusively those which are available free-of-all-financial-charge on the web. I have already run such several such courses (very successfully) aware of the poverty afflicting some of my undergraduates, which has put book-buying beyond their reach. 

The study of ancient Greek and Roman authors is an ideal area for a pilot Humanities ‘degree’ course at The Really Open University, because the texts are almost all well out of copyright and available to anyone who can access the Internet (and I do know that unfortunately this will not be everyone as long as the Digital Divide persists).

The practicalities: the project would need

• ·        A better name than The Really Open University

• ·        Trained academics to volunteer a course curriculum or a youtube.edu lecture

• ·        A public discussion of the best way to administer admissions (I for one would suggest simply a machine that measured motivation), the student/teacher interface, and accreditation

Intellectual culture is far too precious to be left to anti-intellectual managers and money men. Any comments and suggestions more than gratefully received.  ¡No Pasarán! Let’s disintermediate!

On Toleration

I just came back from a trip to Warsaw, where a leading Professor at the University’s Institute of Culture listened in disbelief to my account of the recent abandonment of Britain’s precious intellectual heritage to professional ‘managers’ and unrestrained market forces. What I found on my return was that the student occupation at Royal Holloway had ended, thankfully without any violence. 

The Principal had agreed to withdraw the legal action he was taking against the students. He also conceded that measures should be taken ‘to improve student involvement which should increase the number of legitimate means through which students can express their views’. 

I think the Principal sees this as a victory. He probably does not have the insight of King Pyrrhus of Epirus in the 3rd century BCE, who won a battle against the Romans in which his forces suffered so much damage that the world was given the idea of the ‘Pyrrhic victory’. Pyrrhus said reflectively, ‘If we are victorious in one more battle with the Romans, we shall be utterly ruined’. 

But Paul Layzell, rather than reflecting on the ruin that has been caused to his own community over the last six months, can’t bear not to have the last word. 

In an email circulated round the entire college Intranet, he does not try to heal the wounds his team has inflicted on relationships within RHUL. Instead, he makes a pre-emptive and inflammatory strike against any further student activism, using the strong first person singular: ‘I want to make it absolutely clear that I will not tolerate any action that disrupts College life in a similar way next term.’

The phrase ‘I will not tolerate’ this or that is often used by career politicians setting out their stall as uncompromising rulers cast in the mould of Charles de Gaulle. After police arrested over a hundred activists occupying part of Boston a few weeks ago, Boston Mayor Thomas Menino announced, ‘I will not tolerate civil disobedience in the city of Boston’. As lawyers have been quick to point out, this puts Menino in danger of undermining the constitutional right of US citizens, enshrined in the First Amendment, ‘peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances’. 

 

Script-writers know the comical and despotic overtones of the ‘I will not tolerate’ cliché: it is a favourite phrase of Dr. Evil in the 'Austin Powers’ movies. In The Spy who Shagged Me, for example, when it is pointed out that he has cappuccino froth on his nose, he screams ‘I will not tolerate your insolence.’

Toleration is one of the most important topics within Political Philosophy, from Socrates’ insistence that only through freely expressed disagreement in dialogue can the truth be discovered, to John Stuart Mill’s classic formulation in On Liberty (1859), ‘the only purpose for which power can rightfully be exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others.’ It is difficult to see what harm the students were doing, and to whom, when they peacefully occupied their own college.

I just came back from a trip to Warsaw, where a leading Professor at the University’s Institute of Culture listened in disbelief to my account of the recent abandonment of Britain’s precious intellectual heritage to professional ‘managers’ and unrestrained market forces. What I found on my return was that the student occupation at Royal Holloway had ended, thankfully without any violence. The Principal had agreed to withdraw the legal action he was taking against the students. He also conceded that measures should be taken ‘to improve student involvement which should increase the number of legitimate means through which students can express their views’. I think the Principal sees this as a victory. He probably does not have the insight of King Pyrrhus of Epirus in the 3rd century BCE, who won a battle against the Romans in which his forces suffered so much damage that the world was given the idea of the ‘Pyrrhic victory’. Pyrrhus said reflectively, ‘If we are victorious in one more battle with the Romans, we shall be utterly ruined’. But Paul Layzell, rather than reflecting on the damage that has been caused to his own team over the last six months, can’t bear not to have the last word. In an email circulated round the entire college Intranet, he does not try to heal the wounds his team has inflicted on relationships within RHUL. Instead, he makes a pre-emptive and inflammatory strike against any further student activism, using the strong first person singular: ‘I want to make it absolutely clear that I will not tolerate any action that disrupts College life in a similar way next term.’ The phrase ‘I will not tolerate’ this or that is often used by career politicians setting out their stall as uncompromising rulers cast in the mould of Charles de Gaulle. After police arrested over a hundred activists occupying part of Boston a few weeks ago, Boston Mayor Thomas Menino announced, ‘I will not tolerate civil disobedience in the city of Boston’. As lawyers have been quick to point out, this puts Menino in danger of undermining the constitutional right, enshrined in the First Amendment, ‘peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances’. Script-writers know the tyrannical overtones of the ‘I will not tolerate’ cliché: it is a favourite phrase of Dr. Evil in the Austin Powers’ movies. In The Spy who Shagged Me, when it is pointed out that he has cappuccino froth on his nose, he screams ‘I will not tolerate your insolence.’ Toleration is one of the most important topics within Political Philosophy, from Socrates’ insistence that only though freely expressed disagreement in dialogue can the truth be discovered, to John Stuart Mill’s classic formulation in On Liberty (1859), ‘the only purpose for which power can rightfully be exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others.’ It is difficult to see what harm the students were doing, and to whom, when they peacefully occupied their own college.

Space: The Political Frontier

Just when I thought that we were entering a quiet phase in the campaign to keep Classics intact at Royal Holloway, things have suddenly hotted up.

Last Wednesday a group of students peacefully occupied the charged space of the main building’s east wing (sometimes known as ‘Testosterone Corridor’) leading to the Principal's office. They are demanding that management helps students more financially, allows them greater representation on Council, and lifts all the threats of redundancy from the Department of Classics & Philosophy. 

Several of them are signed up for courses in Classics or Ancient History. They play guitars and read poetry; they are orderly and civil; they have charmed the friendly security men posted all around them; they are coming and going to their lectures and diligently writing essays on laptops and iPads.

The young people outside Paul Layzell's door, beneath the portraits of former Principals, are symbolically taking back ownership of Higher Education. They are asking politely but firmly to be allowed a real part in decisions about the curriculum and funding.

They are also very brave. Layzell has form when it comes to heavy-handed reactions to student activism. There exists on Youtube a film clip of assaults made by riot police on peaceful protestors at Sussex University on  4 March 4 2010. Layzell was Deputy Vice-Chancellor there at the time and had tried to implement swingeing cuts. 

His appointment at Royal Holloway was ratified by our Council precisely two weeks later.

The classicists among the Royal occupiers know that there is a precedent for their policy — which in my youth long ago we used to call a ‘sit-in’ — provided by a famous ancient play.  

Most people associate Aristophanes' comedy Lysistrata with the women's sex strike. But the most effective tactic they employ in their bid for a voice in the administration of their state actually has nothing to do with sex. It is their occupation of the Acropolis, the civic and religious central space of Athens in which the public money was kept.

Lysistrata and the women want control over the exchequer because the men have created a hopeless crisis in both domestic and international politics. When the self-regarding city magistrate orders his battalion of thuggish Scythian archers (the ancient equivalent of riot police with batons and pepper sprays) to evict the women, he suffers a physical, moral and intellectual defeat.   

Lysistrata teaches him a lesson he will never forget in how to run a community's finances without incurring intolerable human costs.

The Royal Holloway occupation mirrors similar student initiatives on campuses up and down the country. For the cause of this particular occupation of course can't be understood in isolation from the government's plans for HE in the UK, which is to turn universities into commercial enterprises regardless of the deleterious impact this will have on the quality, accessibility and diversity of intellectual work in our country. 

 

It was almost exactly a year ago, on 9th December 2010, when the coalition government pushed through the education 'reforms' which proved to be the crunch psychologically for all financially fixated UK university managers. The first anniversary of that lamentable decision will be a suitable occasion for a performance of Lysistrata's great speech on fiscal policy and morale in Management Corridor next week.

WHOSE COLLEGE IS IT ANYWAY?

In an article published in today’s Observer the Royal Holloway spokesperson Helen Coleman repeats the tired old disparagements of the performance of the Classics Department at Royal Holloway that her office has been churning out for months. 

Never mind that most of the allegations have been shown to be based on false data. The really staggering point is that the people appointed to ‘manage’ the College think that it behoves them to slag off the College in the national press.

But who or what is ‘the College’? It surely consists of academics and students:   its 1985 charter states the objects of the College shall be ‘to promote for the public good education and scholarship’ and ‘to provide instruction leading to degrees of the university, to superintend postgraduate studies and to promote research’.  This certainly assumes that ‘the College’ must consist of the people engaged in education and research, which means teachers and students.

University leaders used to be distinguished academics who fought for, rather than against, their co-lecturers and students. They also used to have sufficient courage of their convictions and respect for the work done by their fellow scholars to speak to the public for themselves without employing ‘Directors of Communication’.

In ancient Greece, both tyrants and democratic city-states used heralds as their spokespersons.  A successful career as a herald required sacrificing to Hermes (the herald of Zeus), an extremely loud voice and ownership of a trumpet.  You could actually compete in the Panhellenic games in heraldry, where the sole criterion seems to be the number of decibels you could produce!

Tyrants used their heralds to deliver oppressive messages.  The herald Talthybius is ordered by the Greek elite to tell Andromache to hand over her baby son to be thrown from the walls of Troy.  A nauseatingly sycophantic Hermes is sent by Zeus to try to get Prometheus, being tortured on his rock, to submit to the supreme god’s dictatorship.

But no ancient Greek democracy would ever dream of hiring a herald to criticise its own work and achievements at the top of his voice to the rest of the world.

At the end of the fifth century BCE, Athens was enduring the reign of terror of the so-called Thirty Tyrants. The prominent democrats of Athens asked their spokesman, the herald Cleocritus, to address these opportunistic aristocrats. He said, ‘Fellow citizens, why are you keeping us out of Athens? Why do you seek our deaths? For we have never done you any harm. We have taken part alongside you in the most hallowed rituals and sacrifices, and in the finest festivals. We have been your co-dancers in choruses and co-students, as well as your co-soldiers. We have been in dangerous situations with you on both land and sea in defence of our mutual security and freedom.’ It would be good to see the Royal Holloway spokesperson sounding more like Cleocritus and a bit less like Hermes in Prometheus Bound.

On Tipping-Points

So I handed in a letter of resignation from Royal Holloway the day before yesterday, having finally signed a contract on Wednesday at King’s College London. 

King’s had approached me less than 24 hours after RHUL management dropped its crazy bombshell on the department of Classics & Philosophy way back on June 28^th.  At some point between June and last week I reached the tipping-point which made it psychologically impossible to continue working at RHUL.

Was it the day when the management’s spokeswoman started denigrating our departmental research to a readership of thousands on Facebook? 

Was it October 5^th, when my colleagues and I heard with astonishment the identity of the people who felt it was incumbent upon them to defend management’s proposals to our Councillors? 

Or was it the day when I was told there was no money at RHUL to provide me with a computer when mine packed up (actually, I have since much enjoyed using the postgraduate computer room!)

Tipping-points are fascinating. The metaphor comes from the scales, an important symbol for decision-making in Greek literature. When Zeus decides who should die in a battle, he weighs the souls of the warriors in counter-posed scale pans until one outweighs the other. 

In Aristophanes’ Frogs, the drama of Aeschylus is weighed against the drama of Euripides to decide which poet could save the Athenians from crisis. But it is when Dionysus reaches his own internal tipping-point—a gut reaction—that Aeschylus is actually chosen.

In another Aristophanic comedy, Clouds, the hero Strepsiades accepts all the rules of the university run by the conman of the education industry, a caricatured Socrates, who can teach you how to Get Rich Quick. Strepsiades accepts that Right is Wrong and that the goal of intellectual work is to get hold of your opponent's money, rather than to pursue truth and enlightenment. But Strepsiades does reach his own tipping-point and rediscovers his moral centre when his son argues that it is ethical to beat up your own ageing parents.

Some of my fantastic students and campaign workers staged a brilliant adaptation of Clouds as the sun went down over the south quadrangle on Friday.  

 It was written by David Bullen and directed by Helen Eastman. It attracted a huge impromptu audience. The young are fed up with being pushed around by baby boomers  who have bagged all the best jobs and houses and are now wrecking their universities.  

The comfortable generation should take care that their children don’t suddenly refuse to accept debt, poverty and unemployment as their inevitable lot. They just might reach a tipping-point.