Margaret Thatcher is reported to have despised higher education—or rather, a higher education that in her view was famously ‘putting out poison’. The poison in question included left-wing ideas—of course—but apparently also politically-aware thinking. How else to interpret the fact that when Thatcher was Secretary for Education and Science (under Heath), she pursued student union ‘reform’ partly because the unions ‘tended to be controlled by politically conscious cliques…’(1)? Would Thatcher have preferred politically ‘unconscious’ cliques?
After she became prime minister, many academics felt that Thatcher pursued the universities with the kind of venom that she attributed to the academics themselves. Budgets were slashed, and after Kenneth Baker became the Secretary of Education (1986-1989), the Tory government introduced what its members would normally describe as ‘socialist’ controls. Amongst many other measures, the government told each university how many grant-maintained students it could admit, with penalties for institutions that deviated from the expected numbers. Higher educational quangos began to blossom, and academics began the long march towards a form of bureaucratic enmuzzlement (apologies for the neologism).
Simon Jenkins, himself not the most radical of Liberal Conservatives, described the changes quite aptly when in 1995 he wrote a piece for the Times Higher titled ‘The lady who turned to nationalisation’. In his words, ‘United Kingdom universities at the start of the 1980s were in remarkable shape. They were second only to those in the United States for international popularity and were both a growth industry and an export earner. Yet from the moment Margaret Thatcher came to power, scholastic leadership and tradition collapsed in the face of state intervention more fierce than anything done under Labour. Thatcher mesmerised higher education and transformed its structure beyond recognition. It was one of her most vigorous “nationalisations”’(2).
Aspects of this form of control continue to this day, making a nonsense of Mandelson’s claim in early 2010 that academics are ‘set in aspic’. If they are set in aspic, it is in the aspic of Thatcherite controls of the kind I’ve just described, and which New Labour enthusiastically embraced. If anything, British academics have shown a remarkable capacity to adapt to red tape, and to produce year on year ‘productivity gains’.
Alas, there were three things that Margaret Thatcher never dared to do, and so three things that British academics never had to face—this despite, or perhaps thanks to, her ‘socialist’ intervention. One of these was to allow a university to fail. In a manner not entirely dissimilar from that of a Siberian tractor factory under the old five-year plans, universities and their academic workers were frogmarched to the tune of quality control (or what we might describe as ‘blue army’) choirs. Controls over teaching reached the point where academics had literally to justify, assess, and then reassess each lesson, each essay, and each exam in much the manner of primary and secondary school teachers who endured an analogous process of nationalisation. A craftily hegemonic system led by the Quality Assessment Agency, ostensibly introduced by the academics themselves, forced lecturers to go through the equivalent of an Ofsted examination every few years (will the Tories be eliminating this red tape too?). And yet, however bitterly we complained about this system, it is true to say that any failing university was rectified as opposed to eliminated.
The second thing that Thatcher did not do was set up private universities. Perhaps that would have contradicted the underlying logic of nationalisation, i.e. it might have allowed the alleged poison to spread to areas where the academics might be less closely watched and controlled.
This brings me to the third thing that Thatcher did not do, at least not directly. Despite the nationalisation, and despite a creeping curricularisation, she never dared to put in quango managers or indeed university vice-chancellors that suggested to academics what they could or could not teach, what they could or could not research, from the point of view of economically valuable skills. Of course, a case can be made that university managers, and indeed departmental heads still did this by way of indirect controls via funding regimes, curricular design, etc. But to this blogger’s knowledge, there was never a case of a university receiving as vice-chancellor a former quango head who threatened academics, however charismatically, with the big machete of business and vocational skills: if you don’t teach economically useful skills (or the social equivalent of), you may eventually lose your jobs.
That honour goes not to the Tories, but to Thatcher’s New Labour reincarnations, i.e. Tony Blair and Gordon Brown. I remember rather vividly how, in the course of ‘pep’ talks given to the different departments at the University of the West of England, Howard Newby warned staff, in so many words, that if they failed to perform according to his new ‘knowledge exchange’ criteria, then jobs could eventually be lost (I take it that knowledge exchange is a radical subspecies of knowledge transfer, which I take in turn to mean ‘knowledge transferred to businesses for the sake of its commodification’).
It was also during the New Labour years that Newby engaged in knowledge transfer and then knowledge exchange activism at HEFCE. Thereafter New Labour took it upon itself to give knowledge transfer and knowledge exchange an institutional corporeality which went far beyond that of Newby himself. There was, on the one hand, a string of ‘reviews’ of education, all led by businessmen (and it was all men). All coached their unsurprisingly pro-business findings in the language of business, and one insurance man even went so far as to state that Adam Smith himself had had a go at universities for not teaching enough business!
There was, on the other hand, a sweeping change in the ministerial nomenklaturas. The Department of Education was abolished, and the very word, ‘Education’, was subtly exchanged (knowledge exchanged?) for ‘Skills’. In the New Labour higher ed bureaucrateese, education became a bad word. A new Department of Innovation, Universities and Skills (DIUS) emerged which began to subtly and not-so-subtly introduce the transformations that would be required to begin to switch from a Soviet model of higher education (ceteris paribus), to a Thatcherite model of higher education (well, to an ideal Thatcherite model, as opposed to the working model).
Way back in 2007 and 2008 when these changes began to become most evident, I was one of a handful of academics who editorialised them in this blog (see for example ‘Lord Leitch’s Levers‘, or ‘Unlocking the Business of Higher Education: New Labour’s “A New University Challenge”’, or indeed, the partly censored ‘Carter & Carter goes into administration’).
In 2009, the pace of privatisation/vocationalisation suddenly quickened; I wonder if Gordon Brown shared Tony Blair’s reported sentiment that it was time to eliminate that ‘left elite’, members of which were presumably still thought to be ‘putting out poison’ from the nation’s universities? Be that as it may, DIUS became a performative (in philosophy of language-speak) of its own acronym (Die-Us), and was replaced by a new acronym: BIS (as in Bus-iness). Universities were now placed under the aegis of Business, Innovation and Skills, and with it, the growing princedom of Peter Mandelson.
The announcement today that a new private university has been created (one whose untimely acronym is BPP) is, in my opinion, at once more bad news, and evidence that there is little that is new under the Thatcherite, which is to say the neoliberal, sun. As soon as it became apparent that Dem Tories would leave BIS intact, it also became obvious that we should expect more of the same. And when we heard that Vince Cable—he also of that famous Red Paper on Scotland—was now himself singing along in the chorus of privatisation, it became abundantly clear that this would be a re-run of that old classic, ‘When Tony Became Margaret’. Those who voted for the Liberals thinking they were getting an older Labour have once again been thoroughly duped; perhaps I will be proven wrong, but Clegg and the rest of Dem Tories should enjoy what may well be their last months in power, or rather, close to power.
The real change, if there can be said to be a change, is that Dem Tories now feel sufficiently self-assured in their ideological quest to be able to let go of that useful tool of laissez-fairism, nationalisation. From now on, the cadre of managers patiently groomed within and beyond universities will become, in the manner of the post-Soviet ‘oligarchs’, the new barons of the business of what was once truly a higher education.
Incidentally, why do we speak only of Russian oligarchs?
See also, Big Society, Big Oil, Muzzled Universities (especially parts 2 & 3, forthcoming)
For a longer account of the history of the privatisation of higher education in the UK, and its relation to financial scandal, see
Financial Scandal, Corruption, and Censorship, Part 4
References
1) H. Richards, ‘Papers reveal Thatcher’s persuasive powers’, in Times Higher Education, 4 January 2002, at http://www.timeshighereducation.co.uk/story.asp?storyCode=166437§ioncode=26, accessed 20 March 2010.
2) S. Jenkins ‘The lady who turned to nationalisation’, in Times Higher Education, 20 October 1995, http://www.timeshighereducation.co.uk/story.asp?storyCode=95716§ioncode=26, accessed 26 July 2010.