““A schoolmaster is a productive labourer when, in addition to belabouring the heads of his scholars, he works like a horse to enrich the school proprietor. That the latter has laid out his capital in a teaching factory, instead of in a sausage factory, does not alter the relation”
As Karl Marx suggested in his masterwork Capital volume 1, the university is akin toa sausage factory in that is a site of capitalist production – in this case the production of knowledge. Writing from our own experience as four doctoral researchers within the higher education system, we want to add to Marx’s analysis and argue that, since Capital was rst published in 1867, academic research & teaching has been increasingly subordinate to, and reorganized in the interests of, capitalist value. Every stage of the knowledge production process – from the choice of topic, to the allocation of funding,to the criteria against which research is assessed – is becoming increasingly guided by values that guarantee the conditions for the reproduction of capitalism. Over the past two decades, this has taken the form of the introduction of metric systems into the university -under the guise of guaranteeing ‘quality’ and ‘competition’ – in order to subject teaching and research to quantitative measurement. This move to quantify the value of academic work is a key strategy in facilitating the marketisation of higher education. The nancial crisis has proven the excuse for accelerating the extension and introduction of further systems for the measurement of university labour, not least in the form of ‘academic proling’. We contend that resistance to these metric systems must be at the heart of strategies to prevent the marketization of the university”
Tina Richardson Source Showdown at the Sausage Factory
Reimagining The University Roundhouse Journal www.reimaginetheuniversity.org Roundhouse Journal | Reimagining the University Contents Editorial Situation Why Education is not a Commodity Michael Chanan We Will Not Disrupt Your Education Matt Cheeseman Using Schizocartography as a Method of Critiquing the ‘University of Excellence’ Tina Richardson Source Showdown at the Sausage Factory Tom Gillespie Andre Pusey Bertie Russell Leon Sealey-Huggins From Manifestos Against The University (For The University) Anon Resisting Resistance Rosalee Dorfman This IS a postmortem…What’s Left? Mike Watson Strategy Student as Producer: Bringing Critical Theory to Life through the Life of Students Mike Neary What Does Recognition Look Like? Thomas Gokey Occupation: a place to deliberate the socio-history of re-production Richard Hall Pedagogies of resistance and anti-capitalist creation in Latin America Sara C Motta Roundhouse Journal | Reimagining the University 4 Editorial The University’s future is uncertain; uncertain because we – editors, contributors, readers – intend to change its structure, practices and relationship to society. Left to the government, market, bureaucracy and hopeless academics, its future is certain: fueling the free market – a slave shoveling coal aboard a Titanic no government can steer. Our call to re-imagine the university was not an invitation to rearrange the deck furniture or write the score for the string-quartet as the ship sinks. Rather, it was a call to loot the vessel and abandon ship to whichever destinations contributors thought best or, for now, reachable. There is a thematic narrative to the structure of this journal: Situation – where we are, Source – why we are here, Strategy – where we could go. Contributions were diverse: from personal anecdotes to poetry to practicable plans for parallel institutions and practices. Reassuringly some of these projects are already being implemented. Michael Channan frames this edition by elucidating why education is not a commodity; treating it as such is a corruption of education and can only produce disillusioned or corrupted students. He reminds us to reassert what education ought to be for society, rather than let it languish as a market-defined commodity. Matt Cheesman’s lyrical account of his PhD experience perfectly describes the burden of academia, the social distance between the ivory tower and society, and the wrenching contradiction of being in and against the institution. Tina Richardson gives an essay on her practice of schizocartography in the University of Leeds. Fusing Guttari’s Schizoanalysis and the Situationist International’s psychogeography, she explores the socio-historical atmosphere created by The Unviersity, reminding us that it is not just an academic system but a physical manifestation of capital that has impacted upon a community through history. ‘Showdown at the Sausage Factory’ explains how the Research Excellence Framework in the UK (with analogues abroad) facilitates the further standardisation and marketisation of the education system. Continuing the theme of Channan’s essay, it insists that resistance to market led standardisation is a key struggle to defend education from irreversible commodification. Editorial 5 Manifestos and Rosalee Dorfman’s thought piece describe the subjective disillusionment with the educational process and the student protests respectively. Theirs remind us that university is primarily a personal experience; transformative, and often disillusioning. Mike Watson insists in his paper that the education delivered via higher education institutions, infused with market economics, should be abandoned altogether. Watson gestures towards alternative structures of learning – taking us to the closing section of the journal The four final pieces outline alternative directions for pedagogy and higher education struggles: Mike Neary’s Student as Producer project implemented at The University of Lincoln recodifies the relationship between tutor and student; Thomas Gokey’s scheme for alternative accreditation undermines the university’s primary market asset – the holographic crest; Richard Hall’s positive account of university occupations as a locus of democratic deliberation; Sara Motta offers a Latin American perspective, where pedagogy has in some instances been un-coupled from the market. Often your political actions and thoughts encounter the riposte ‘yes, but what’s the alternative?’ This is the political strategy of neo-liberalism: elimination not only of structural alternatives, but the very possibility of conceiving of structural alternatives; this is reality, all else is fantasy. Burdened by debt and bludgeoned into rough shapes by bureacracy, students and academics can rarely confidently imagine an alternative; corridors echo sympathetic complaint rather than critique. Critical theory, as published in this journal, insists that there are alternatives and they are not theoretical, but exist in the dialectical and reflexive relationship between theory and practice. This is not a postmortem. This is an assemblage of theory, praxis and strategy to stimulate discussion and action. This is a reimagining insistent of an alternative. Roundhouse Editors Evan Harris Tom Jeffries Dora Meade Henry Palmer Andrew Walker Roundhouse Journal | Reimagining the University 6 Why Education is not a Commodity Michael Chanan The arguments advanced by government ministers like David Willetts for the draconian reform of university funding are confused and specious. They would certainly fail any exam in logic. Instead of reason, they depend on various forms of mediatised rhetoric: like Orwell’s Newspeak, doublespeak, or what the writer Steve Poole has called unspeak. Sometimes they amount to simple misrepresentation, derived from hasty and inadequate statistics, or denial-induced falsehood. Just read the statements and take your pick. The confusion begins with the vagueness of the words being used–when is a debt not a debt? Actually, it seems to depend on who owes it to whom, although you can also try calling it a graduate tax. As Rafael Behr recently put it, debt is “a curse and a blight, except when incurred by students to pay university tuition fees, in which context it is an opportunity and an engine of social mobility”. There is also confusion with regard to unexamined but fundamental concepts, like of the concept of a market for education. Markets deal in commodities, but what exactly is being bought and sold in the case of education? The first clue comes in this passage from Michel Serres, quoted recently by the Social and Cultural Geography Research Group: “To illustrate the importance of knowledge sharing, I would like to tell you a little lesson in economics: I have a block of butter, and you have three Euros. If we proceed to do a transaction, you will, in the end, have a block of butter, and I will have three Euros. We are dealing with a zero sum game: nothing happens from this exchange. But in the exchange of knowledge, during teaching, the game is not one of zero sum as more parties profit from the exchange: if you know a theorem and teach it to me, at the end of the exchange, we both know it. In this knowledge exchange there is no equilibrium at all, but a terrific growth which economics does not know. Teachings are the bearers of an unbelievable treasure – knowledge – which multiplies and is the treasure of all humanity.” (Michel Serres) In other words, education is not a commodity like a bar of chocolate or a café latté, which is physically consumed until there’s nothing left. Nor is it like a motor car or a washing machine, which are durable but eventually break down and have to be replaced: an education is never replaced but only added to, extended, and renovated. Perhaps it’s a bit like a book, in constituting a store of knowledge, but it isn’t a physical object and Why Education is not a Commodity 7 doesn’t create a second-hand market – although it seems to be something you can cash in on, because it’s supposed to guarantee you a better income. However, education also happens informally, and you can also pass on bits of it for free without depriving yourself of what you’ve passed on (the early rabbis thought of it as like the flame of a candle). A teacher is someone who gets paid for doing this, but they’re not selling an object, they are performing what Adam Smith called a service. Education is closer to art forms like theatre, music, exhibitions and circuses, where the price of admission buys you the right to an experience, but it is not an object you can carry away with you except in your mind. Modern media have blurred the boundaries between different forms of cultural consumption, but there’s still a distinction between going to the cinema and watching a film privately at home. Choosing a course of study, however, is not like deciding what to see by reading the critics or watching the trailers – the league tables are no more reliable a guide than the year’s ten best lists, and corporate styles of advertising have no demonstrable effect on recruitment1. If education is not a regular kind of commodity, it also means that the work of the teacher is of a different kind to that of someone whose output can be measured in terms of productivity. It’s more like that of doctor or nurse, where quality of attention matters just as much as quantity. In a famous passage in The Wealth of Nations, Adam Smith observed that the labour of some of the most respectable, as well as some of the most frivolous orders in society are in this respect the same: churchmen, lawyers, physicians and men of letters on the one hand, and on the other, buffoons, musicians, opera-singers, opera-dancers, etc. All of them, he says, fall into the category of “perishable services”, a type of activity which “does not fix or realize itself in any permanent subject, or vendible commodity, which endures after the labour is past.” Discussing this passage, what this comes down to, says Marx, is that only labour that reproduces capital is economically productive: ‘a singer who sings like a bird’ – the kind of singer who, like the young Mozart, sits with the servants- “is an unproductive worker. When she sells her song, she is a wage earner or merchant. But the same singer, employed by someone else to give concerts and bring in money, is a productive worker because she directly produces capital.” Oddly, neither of these writers mentions teachers, but someone who does is Schiller. Coming between Smith and Marx, his Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Mankind drew a pertinent distinction between the work of the craftsman or artist and that of the teacher. When a craftsman, he said, works on his raw material he has no scruples about doing it violence. The artist has just as few scruples, but avoids showing it (which was true in Schiller’s day, though not in ours). But in pedagogy things are very different, because Roundhouse Journal | Reimagining the University 8 the material with which the educator works is not inert, but the same as the product: namely, the human being. Do violence to the material you are working with and you can no longer achieve your aims, because your ends and your means are the same. In their time, none of these authors could have remotely imagined the specious measures of productivity devised by neoliberal managerialists and policy makers who are utterly alienated from the experience of teaching or caring, but yet insist on quantifying the outputs of such activities. In Schiller’s terms, to treat the student managerially is a form of systemic violence which breaches the very principles of pedagogy. This managerialism isn’t new, but goes back to the first reform of higher education by Mrs Thatcher 25 years ago. Thatcherism devised a reform of higher education based on the advice of the accountants and business consultants Coopers and Lybrand. The idea was to place higher education institutions in direct competition through a ranked assessment system based on the inspection of courses. The allocation of student numbers, and hence funding, was to be the reward (or punishment). To the question what is good and who does the ranking and the judging, the answer was built in to the system. What looked superficially like an extension of the peer-review system which guided British higher education in the past, became a systemic process in the form of a categorized audit conducted by trained assessors3. Many of these features were pioneered in the polytechnics (which Thatcher subsequently turned into universities), such as using student numbers and staff/ student ratios to determine funding and thus ensure expansion in more popular courses according to the law of the market. But what do you do in domains like education where market mechanisms emerge naturally, because you’re not dealing with a regular kind of commodity? Managerialism is normative, bludgeoning people into compliance, and ‘better management’ is not only a euphemism for management according to market principles, but also more management (which by definition falls into the category of unproductive labour–it would be more productive to let them go and work for Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs.)