Monday, February 22, 2021

A century that profoundly changed universities and their campuses

by Geoff Hanmer, The Conversation: https://theconversation.com/profiles/geoff-hanmer-90647

This history of the development of universities is the first of two articles on the past and future of the campus. This is a long read, so set aside the time to read it and enjoy.


Image: The Conversation

Once the first atomic bomb exploded on 16 July 1945 in New Mexico, the world would never be the same again. Scientists and engineers had turned an obscure principle into a weapon of unprecedented power. Los Alamos, the facility where the bomb was designed, was run by the University of California.

This was a turning point for universities. As they increasingly focused on scientific research, the role of universities worldwide - and their campuses - changed.

Before the first world war, the largest investment on most campuses was the university library. After the second world war, investment shifted decisively to laboratories and equipment.

A key reason for the increasing focus on university research was the lessons of the first world war. After the war, governments of rich countries took an increasingly interventionist role in directing and encouraging the research and development of artificial materials, weapons, defences and medicine. Universities or institutes associated with universities did much of this work.

By 1926, the Council for Science and Industrial Research, the predecessor to the CSIRO, and the organisation that would become the National Health and Medical Research Council (NHMRC) had been founded in Australia.

A gradual turn towards research

In the UK, many of the older universities were not that keen on applied research. Chemistry, engineering and physics were taught at Oxford between the wars, but by 1939 the chemistry cohort was just over 40 students, of whom “two or three were women”.

It wasn’t until 1937 that Oxford drew up a plan to develop the “Science Area” with new buildings, but in that same year, the university also agreed to reduce its size to avoid a fight with the Town over “further intrusion on the Parks”.

Facilities at Cambridge for physical sciences were slightly better, but not by much, despite its historical focus on mathematics. The Cavendish laboratory in which the New Zealander Ernest Rutherford discovered in 1911 that the atom had a nucleus was small, dark, damp and ill-equipped.

The room used by Ernest Rutherford for his atomic research
A century ago, universities provided modest facilities for researchers like Nobel laureate Ernest Rutherford. Science Museum London/Wikimedia CommonsCC BY-SA

This relative lack of interest in experimental sciences at  Oxbridge was unhelpful for science research in Australia, because our six small state-run universities tended to follow their lead. As an indication of its priorities, the University of Adelaide built its humanities buildings in stone and its much more modest science facilities in brick.

Nobel laureate and University of Adelaide Professor W.H. Bragg carried out his pioneering experiments on X-ray crystallography in Adelaide during 1900 to 1908 in a converted storeroom in the basement of the Mitchell Building. His lab is now a storeroom again.

The post-war transformations

The application of university research had been a German strength since well before the first world war with the rise of the Humboldtian model of higher education, which favoured research over scholarship. A key reason the Allies prevailed in 1945 was that the United States in particular rapidly improved its capacity to carry out and apply research, based on the Humboldtian model.

In 1917, MIT established a naval aviation school. The University of Washington soon followed MIT’s example.

This decision had a direct bearing on the success of the Boeing company following construction of the Boeing wind tunnel at the University of Washington’s Seattle campus in 1917. It led directly to the development of advanced aerodynamics for the Boeing 247 of 1933, which provided the template for all subsequent commercial airliners.

The Australian university system between the wars offers no such exemplars. The focus on applied research was foreign to the prevailing university culture in Australia at the time. As  Hannah Forsyth writes in A History of the Modern Australian University, not until the 1940s did “scholarly esteem began to move away from ‘mastery’ of disciplines towards the discovery of new knowledge”.

Boeing 247 aeroplane on the runway
The wartime construction of a wind tunnel at the University of Washington enabled development of the Boeing 247, which provided the template for commercial airliners. Ken Fielding/FlickrCC BY-SA

New research facilities and new campuses

New technologies led to a host of new post-war industries, including commercial aviation, television, plastics, information technology (IT) and advanced health care. The demand for skills to operate these new industries was the primary driver of an explosion in university enrolments.

University science research in Australia only got a serious start in 1946 with the foundation of the Australian National University (ANU) and the Commonwealth Universities Grants Committee, which became the Australian Research Council (ARC).

Australian National University sign on Canberra campus
The founding of the Australian National University in 1946 marked a shift in Australia towards more research-focused universities set on very large campuses. EQRoy/Shutterstock

As Robert Menzies, the prime minister from 1949-66, later wrote:

The Second World War brought about great social changes. In the eye of the future observer, the greatest may well provide to be in the field of higher education.

In Australia, about 80% of our universities have been founded since the second world war. The growth of the sector has been startling.

chart showing postwar growth in university student numbers in Australia
Author provided

All of the institutions founded during the Menzies era were sited on large campuses in the suburbs or beyond. Although mainly Commonwealth-funded, they were designed and delivered by state public works authorities to tight budgets on land provided largely by state governments. UNSW, Monash, Griffith, La Trobe, Flinders and WAIT (now Curtin) share a heritage of economical buildings on large parcels of land.

The key reasons for this approach were to minimise cost and maximise capacity for growth and change. Low to medium-rise buildings on land surplus to state needs maximised bang for buck. Development costs per square metre of building were about half that of a campus in the central business district (CBD) of cities.

This was not a new discovery. The universities of Stanford, Berkeley, Caltech, Tokyo, Wisconsin and Peking, all founded in the 19th century, used this model for similar reasons.

Fortunately, the states were generous with land they didn’t need. Of all the universities built in the Menzies era, only UNSW with 39 hectares has a significant land area constraint. The other universities have at least 50ha and several have well over 100ha. This has given them some headaches, but also lots of options.

Research by ARINA, an architectural firm specialising in higher education, community and public design, shows that virtually all universities built since 1949 - that’s more than 90% of universities in the world - have large campuses with densities less than 500 students per hectare. The University of Bath, built in 1966, is typical of post-war UK universities with 59ha and 16,000 students in 2021, less than 300/ha.

The same is true even in small city-states such as Hong Kong and Singapore. The National University of Singapore has a campus of about 140ha with 37,000 students (264/ha) and Hong Kong University of Science and Technology has 55ha with 11,000 students (200/ha).

Campus of National University of Singapore
The National University of Singapore has a campus of about 150ha despite the city-state’s small area. EQRoy/Shutterstock

Most new universities in Europe, Asia, India and the Middle East still rely on the large campus model. The University of Paris-Saclay, for example, is being built on 189ha of former farmland 15km south of the Paris orbital motorway.

Broad-acre campuses are popular with students as measured by surveys of educational experience such as the Australasian Survey of Student Engagement (AUSSE) and the US National Survey of Student Engagement (NESSE). The most popular campuses in Australia are Bond, New England, Griffith and Notre Dame. RMIT and UTS, the highest-ranked CBD campuses finish in the middle of the pack, a long way behind the leaders. A similar phenomenon can be seen in the UK and the US.

Campus model goes corporate

The ARINA research indicates broad-acre campus models have also become increasingly part of the physical organisation and accommodation of many commercial operations.

In 2020, 63% of the top 30 US Fortune 500 index and 87% of the top 30 tech companies in the index were located in suburban and extra-urban settings, mostly campuses. This includes well-known tech companies such as Apple, Alphabet, Facebook, Tesla and HP, but also less obvious candidates such as Walmart, Exxon Mobil and Amazon.

Chart showing locations of top 20 Fortune 500 tech companies
ARINAAuthor provided

In the UK, 28% of all FTSE 100 companies and 54% of FTSE Techmark 100 companies by market capitalisation are based outside greater London.

Chart showing locations of top 20 tech companies in the UK
ARINAAuthor provided

The reasons for this are straightforward: capital and operating costs for research-based firms are lower outside a CBD. While some Australian universities are choosing to head into the city, much of the new economy appears to be heading for the suburbs. It’s happening for the same reason that universities started to migrate there over a hundred years ago.

Saturday, February 20, 2021

Document naming conventions to avoid confusion between candidates and supervisors

by Claire Aitchison, Doctoral Writing SIG:  https://doctoralwriting.wordpress.com/2021/02/18/%ef%bb%bf%ef%bb%bfdocument-naming-conventions-to-avoid-confusion-between-candidates-and-supervisors/

Image by process.st

In my experience, academic writers often create fairly idiosyncratic systems for naming and sharing word documents. However, when authors need to collaborate, share, and review documents together, these individual systems can collide causing mix-ups and frustrations.

For example, one area for confusion can arise when a file is marked FINAL – with all the certainty and boldness the capitalisation deserves! Sparked by this quandary, here I reflect on practices for the naming and exchange of writing between supervisor and candidate. This post gets its energy from the promising idea of a FINAL draft, and suggests some practical ways to avoid confusion when drafts pass between supervisors and candidates.

There is a seduction, a promise, a hope in the term ‘Final’. There is also a closing, a release, a sense of completion and satisfaction from employing the term. It is a shared longing, but not necessarily a shared perception of the state of affairs.

What does ‘Final’ mean?

Does Final mean one or both supervisors have finished their reviews and do not wish to see the chapter again? Does it mean the work is ready to go to the printer, to be submitted, or ready to go to a paid editor (if that is allowed at the conferring institution)?

When a doctoral student sends their supervisors a chapter marked ‘FINAL’, are they taking agency and showing their own critical evaluation? Or are they calling out that they have had enough? This is it. No more. Or, does it simply mean, for now, this is my final version?

Whether as author, co-author, student, or doctoral supervisor, I expect there would be few of us who have not had the unsettling experience of finding more than one version of a document labelled ‘Final’. Indeed, recently I joked with a colleague: How many Finals does it take to finish a PhD? (Let us know if you have the answer!).

Clarity around naming of documents

We have written before about the importance of good file management. Researchers, collaborators, and the members of supervisory teams share a common need to exchange files regularly and to do so with clarity about versions and editing/feedback cycles. The naming of files can play an important role in this, and yet, there doesn’t seem to be agreed or widely practiced method. 

Even when documents are open for access between numerous people (such as shared in Google Doc), naming and turn-taking conventions can be confused.

In my opinion, good file naming conventions mean I can easily identify the author, the contents, the version, and, when necessary, the identity and sequence of reviewers. My preference is to know this information, in that order. I’ve worked out one way of doing this which I’ll explain – but we’re keen to hear about other practices too. Minimising confusion and errors that can maximise efficiencies is in everyone’s interests.

Here are my basics:

  1. Agree on the conventions: Have a discussion to establish your shared practice early on. Be aware that institutions and relevant research/ethics bodies may have advice/practices you should be cognisant of. 
  • Be consistent. Stick to your agreed conventions and apply them consistently over time and across different kinds of documents (unless it really does need revising). 
  • Whose is this? Because supervisors are likely to have more than one student, make authorship clear. I favour initials at the beginning of the file name.
  • What is this? File names need to indicate what is contained therein. Be informative, even if this means names need to be longer than you would like. Avoid cryptic, and obscure abbreviations. For example, doctoral work can sometimes be simply described as MJ-Chapt 1 (that is, author: Mahira Jaraha, content: Chapter 1). At other times, we need to indicate this is significantly different from previous versions, as this modification shows: MJ-Chapt 1_NewIntro.
  • Haven’t I already seen this? Having established authorship and content, provide information that indicates which version this is. In my view, this cannot be adequately indicated by writing Version 2 (or v2). As a doctoral student, you are probably keenly aware of how many versions you have exchanged with your supervisor – but they, on the other hand, are unlikely to know if this is the 4th or the 14th version … they will have lost track. Date is a far more reliable indicator. And here’s another tip – please include the year (yes, you will be returning to manuscripts that are years old …).  I do it this way: MJ-Chapt 1_150221 (that is, Mahira Jaraha, Chapter 1, circulated on 15th February 2021).
  • Who is to read and review this? So far, it is relatively easy – the bigger challenge is naming documents that are shared with different people individually or sequentially, as occurs commonly within supervisor teams. This is about keeping track of the reviewing process. It can be a nightmare trying to record who has seen and worked on the document last. One of my students introduced me to this convention when she sends work only, or first, to me: MJ-Chapt 1_150221_for CA (that is, Mahira Jaraha, Chapter 1, circulated on 15th February 2021 to Claire Aitchison for review). 
  • Who is next? Using the same example, when I return it to MJ and/or pass it on to the next supervisor, I adjust the end of the file thus: MJ-Chapt 1_150221_afterCA_280221 (that is, Mahira Jaraha, Chapter 1, originally circulated on 15th February 2021, and returned after it has been read by Claire Aitchison on the 28th February 2021). 
  • And what about other readers? This system allows for additional reviewers to be added, for example, a second supervisor reviewer receives this document into which I have already provided feedback. Then, with his feedback added, he returns the document to us naming it thus: MJ-Chapt 1_150221_CA_280221_SL_140321. 

Clearly, the file name is getting long and cumbersome, so it may be appropriate to drop off unimportant details. For example, if this is a closed circle of exchange and no-one is likely to need reminding of the author, or if the date of the first draft is no longer relevant, such components could be left off – but beware, changes can alter the automated sequencing order.

As I write this, my system seems more complicated than I realised! If nothing else, I hope this post will encourage you to create something better. However, whether you use my ideas or other conventions, what’s important is that your practices for exchanging documents are sustainable and clearly understood by all the users.