Category: Universities

  • Re: University | Join the Conversation Before It’s Too Late

    Re: University | Join the Conversation Before It’s Too Late

    Hello Everyone,

    The Re: University team here! I know you didn’t expect to hear from us this week, but we just passed the 100-day mark until the Re: University conference and the excitement is getting real. For those of you who don’t know, we are hosting the conference in the Marriott Ottawa on January 28th and 29th

    Our full agenda will be released soon but we have begun announcing our speakers and themes. Our two-day agenda is focused on exploration and action.

    •  Day One looks outward and forward. Through provocative plenaries, global case spotlights, and rapid-fire exchanges, participants will examine how universities are adapting to shifting financial realities, emerging technologies, and new models of teaching and learning. The focus is on ideas: what’s possible, what’s working elsewhere, and what change might look like in practice. 
    • Day Two turns those ideas into strategy. Sessions will focus on the “how” of transformation, think: governance, funding models, partnerships, and culture change. Participants will dig into what it takes to move from experimentation to execution and build institutions that are both resilient and ready for the future. While we may be biased, it is an incredible lineup so far. 

    So if you haven’t already, you should check out who is on the agenda so far here.

    We also wanted to give you a heads up that we are 90% sold out of tickets so if you are planning to come, please make sure to get your ticket soon.

    The university is the focal point of this conference, although we have others attending from the college sector,  and we are so happy to say we have representatives from nearly 50 Canadian universities. If your institution isn’t on this list, we would love you to be part of the conversation:

    Algoma University

    Ambrose University

    Brock University

    Capilano University

    Carleton University

    Concordia University

    Dalhousie University

    Emily Carr University of Art and Design

    Kwantlen Polytechnic university

    Lakehead University

    McMaster University

    Memorial University of Newfoundland

    Mount Allison University

    Mount Royal University

    Mount Saint Vincent University

    Nipissing University

    Northeastern University

    Ontario College of Art & Design University

    Ontario Tech University

    Pacific Coast University for Workplace Health Sciences

    Queen’s University

    Saint Mary’s University

    Simon Fraser University

    St. Francis Xavier University

    St. Jerome’s University

    Thompson Rivers University

    Toronto Metropolitan University

    Trent University

    Université de l’Ontario français

    Université de Moncton

    Université de Montréal

    University College of the North

    University of Alberta

    University of British Columbia

    University of Calgary

    University of Guelph

    University of Guelph-Humber

    University of Manitoba

    University of Northern British Columbia

    University of Ottawa

    University of Regina

    University of Saskatchewan

    University of Toronto

    University of Victoria

    University of Waterloo

    Western University

    Wilfrid Laurier University

    York University

    Yorkville University

    We have been asked who should attend this conference and although it is open to anyone with an interest in the future of postsecondary education, we wanted to give you an idea of who will be joining these conversations. 

    40% of these attendees come from the President, Vice-President and Associate Vice-President portfolios, another 40% are Deans and Deputy Deans. The remaining 20% come from a wide range of roles such as CAOs, Special Advisors, Managers, Directors, Professors and many other important roles. We have attendees from institutions coast to coast with representatives also from colleges and polytechnics along with government, associations and various industry stakeholders. And not to forget our partners who we know are looking forward to meeting you all. Check them out here.

    Whoever you are, if you are passionate about the future of the university in Canada then now is the time to get involved in the conversation. 

    We hope to see you there,

    The Re: University Team

    Thank you to our partners:

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  • Who gets to decide what counts as knowledge? Big tech, AI, and the future of epistemic agency in higher education

    Who gets to decide what counts as knowledge? Big tech, AI, and the future of epistemic agency in higher education

    by Mehreen Ashraf, Eimear Nolan, Manual F Ramirez, Gazi Islam and Dirk Lindebaum

    Walk into almost any university today, and you can be sure to encounter the topic of AI and how it affects higher education (HE). AI applications, especially large language models (LLM), have become part of everyday academic life, being used for drafting outlines, summarising readings, and even helping students to ‘think’. For some, the emergence of LLMs is a revolution that makes learning more efficient and accessible. For others, it signals something far more unsettling: a shift in how and by whom knowledge is controlled. This latter point is the focus of our new article published in Organization Studies.

    At the heart of our article is a shift in what is referred to epistemic (or knowledge) governance: the way in which knowledge is created, organised, and legitimised in HE. In plain terms, epistemic governance is about who gets to decide what counts as credible, whose voices are heard, and how the rules of knowing are set. Universities have historically been central to epistemic governance through peer review, academic freedom, teaching, and the public mission of scholarship. But as AI tools become deeply embedded in teaching and research, those rules are being rewritten not by educators or policymakers, but by the companies that own the technology.

    From epistemic agents to epistemic consumers

    Universities, academics, and students have traditionally been epistemic agents: active producers and interpreters of knowledge. They ask questions, test ideas, and challenge assumptions. But when we rely on AI systems to generate or validate content, we risk shifting from being agents of knowledge to consumers of knowledge. Technology takes on the heavy cognitive work: it finds sources, summarises arguments, and even produces prose that sounds academic. However, this efficiency comes at the cost of profound changes in the nature of intellectual work.

    Students who rely on AI to tidy up their essays, or generate references, will learn less about the process of critically evaluating sources, connecting ideas and constructing arguments, which are essential for reasoning through complex problems. Academics who let AI draft research sections, or feed decision letters and reviewer reports into AI with the request that AI produces a ‘revision strategy’, might save time but lose the slow, reflective process that leads to original thought, while undercutting their own agency in the process. And institutions that embed AI into learning systems hand part of their epistemic governance – their authority to define what knowledge is and how it is judged – to private corporations.

    This is not about individual laziness; it is structural. As Shoshana Zuboff argued in The age of surveillance capitalism, digital infrastructures do not just collect information, they reorganise how we value and act upon it. When universities become dependent on tools owned by big tech, they enter an ecosystem where the incentives are commercial, not educational.

    Big tech and the politics of knowing

    The idea that universities might lose control of knowledge sounds abstract, but it is already visible. Jisc’s 2024 framework on AI in tertiary education warns that institutions must not ‘outsource their intellectual labour to unaccountable systems,’ yet that outsourcing is happening quietly. Many UK universities, including the University of Oxford, have signed up to corporate AI platforms to be used by staff and students alike. This, in turn, facilitates the collection of data on learning behaviours that can be fed back into proprietary models.

    This data loop gives big tech enormous influence over what is known and how it is known. A company’s algorithm can shape how research is accessed, which papers surface first, or which ‘learning outcomes’ appear most efficient to achieve. That’s epistemic governance in action: the invisible scaffolding that structures knowledge behind the scenes. At the same time, it is easy to see why AI technologies appeal to universities under pressure. AI tools promise speed, standardisation, lower costs, and measurable performance, all seductive in a sector struggling with staff shortages and audit culture. But those same features risk hollowing out the human side of scholarship: interpretation, dissent, and moral reasoning. The risk is not that AI will replace academics but that it will change them, turning universities from communities of inquiry into systems of verification.

    The Humboldtian ideal and why it is still relevant

    The modern research university was shaped by the 19th-century thinker Wilhelm von Humboldt, who imagined higher education as a public good, a space where teaching and research were united in the pursuit of understanding. The goal was not efficiency: it was freedom. Freedom to think, to question, to fail, and to imagine differently.

    That ideal has never been perfectly achieved, but it remains a vital counterweight to market-driven logics that render AI a natural way forward in HE. When HE serves as a place of critical inquiry, it nourishes democracy itself. When it becomes a service industry optimised by algorithms, it risks producing what Žižek once called ‘humans who talk like chatbots’: fluent, but shallow.

    The drift toward organised immaturity

    Scholars like Andreas Scherer and colleagues describe this shift as organised immaturity: a condition where sociotechnical systems prompt us to stop thinking for ourselves. While AI tools appear to liberate us from labour, what is happening is that they are actually narrowing the space for judgment and doubt.

    In HE, that immaturity shows up when students skip the reading because ‘ChatGPT can summarise it’, or when lecturers rely on AI slides rather than designing lessons for their own cohort. Each act seems harmless; but collectively, they erode our epistemic agency. The more we delegate cognition to systems optimised for efficiency, the less we cultivate the messy, reflective habits that sustain democratic thinking. Immanuel Kant once defined immaturity as ‘the inability to use one’s understanding without guidance from another.’ In the age of AI, that ‘other’ may well be an algorithm trained on millions of data points, but answerable to no one.

    Reclaiming epistemic agency

    So how can higher education reclaim its epistemic agency? The answer lies not only in rejecting AI but also in rethinking our possible relationships with it. Universities need to treat generative tools as objects of inquiry, not an invisible infrastructure. That means embedding critical digital literacy across curricula: not simply training students to use AI responsibly, but teaching them to question how it works, whose knowledge it privileges, and whose it leaves out.

    In classrooms, educators could experiment with comparative exercises: have students write an essay on their own, then analyse an AI version of the same task. What’s missing? What assumptions are built in? How were students changed when the AI wrote the essay for them and when they wrote them themselves? As the Russell Group’s 2024 AI principles note, ‘critical engagement must remain at the heart of learning.’

    In research, academics too must realise that their unique perspectives, disciplinary judgement, and interpretive voices matter, perhaps now more than ever, in a system where AI’s homogenisation of knowledge looms. We need to understand that the more we subscribe to values of optimisation and efficiency as preferred ways of doing academic work, the more natural the penetration of AI into HE will unfold.

    Institutionally, universities might consider building open, transparent AI systems through consortia, rather than depending entirely on proprietary tools. This isn’t just about ethics; it’s about governance and ensuring that epistemic authority remains a public, democratic responsibility.

    Why this matters to you

    Epistemic governance and epistemic agency may sound like abstract academic terms, but they refer to something fundamental: the ability of societies and citizens (not just ‘workers’) to think for themselves when/if universities lose control over how knowledge is created, validated and shared. When that happens, we risk not just changing education but weakening democracy. As journalist George Monbiot recently wrote, ‘you cannot speak truth to power if power controls your words.’ The same is true for HE. We cannot speak truth to power if power now writes our essays, marks our assignments, and curates our reading lists.

    Mehreen Ashraf is an Assistant Professor at Cardiff Business School, Cardiff University, United Kingdom.

    Eimear Nolan is an Associate Professor in International Business at Trinity Business School, Trinity College Dublin, Ireland.

    Manuel F Ramirez is Lecturer in Organisation Studies at the University of Liverpool Management School, UK.

    Gazi Islam is Professor of People, Organizations and Society at Grenoble Ecole de Management, France.

    Dirk Lindebaum is Professor of Management and Organisation at the School of Management, University of Bath.

    Author: SRHE News Blog

    An international learned society, concerned with supporting research and researchers into Higher Education

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  • The Shrinking Research University Business Model

    The Shrinking Research University Business Model

    For most of the past 30 or so years, big Canadian universities have all been working off more or less the same business model: find areas where you can make big profits and use those profits to make yourself more research-intensive.

    That’s it. That’s the whole model.

    International students? Big profit centres. Professional programs? You better believe those are money-makers. Undergraduate studies – well, they might not make that much money in toto but holy moly first-year students are taken advantage of quite hideously to subsidize other activities, most notably research-intensity.

    Just to be clear, when I talk about “research-intensity”, I am not really talking about laboratories or physical infrastructure. I am talking about the entire financial superstructure that allows profs to teach 2 courses per semester and to be paid at rates which are comparable to those at (generally better-funded) large public research universities in the US. It’s about compensation, staffing complements, the whole shebang – everything that allows our institutions to compete internationally for research talent. Governments don’t pay enough, directly, for institutions to do that. So, universities have found ways to offer new products, or re-arrange the products they offer, in such a way as to support these goals of competitive hiring.

    Small universities do not have quite the same imperatives with respect to research, but this business model affects them nonetheless. To the extent that they wish to compete for staff with the research-intensive institutions, they have to pay higher salaries as well. Maybe the most extreme outcome of that arms race occurred at Laurentian, whose financial collapse was at least in part due to the university implicitly trying to align itself to U15 universities’ pay scales rather than, say, the pay scale at Lakehead (unions, which like to write ambitious pay “comparables” into institutional collective agreements, are obviously also a factor here).

    Anyways, the issue is that for one reason or another, governments have been chipping away at these various sources of profit that have been used to cross-subsidize research-intensity. The situation with international students is an obvious one, but this is happening in other ways too. Professional master’s degrees are not generating the returns they used to as private universities, both foreign and domestic, begin to compete, particularly in the business sector. (A non-trivial part of the reason that Queen’s found itself in financial difficulty last year was because its business school didn’t turn a profit for the first time in years. I don’t know the ins and outs of this, but I would be surprised if Northeastern’s aggressive push into Toronto wasn’t eating some of its executive education business). 

    Provincial governments – some of them, anyway – are also setting up colleges to compete with universities in a number of areas for undergraduate students. In Ontario, that has been going on for 20-25 years, but in other places like Nova Scotia it is just beginning. Some on the university side complain about these programs, primarily in polytechnics, being preferred by government because they are “cheap”, but they rarely get into specifics about quality. One reason college programs are often better on a per-dollar measure? The colleges aren’t building in a surplus to pay for research-intensity – this is precisely what allows them to do revolutionary things like not stuffing 300 first-year students in a single classroom.  

    In brief then: the feds have taken away a huge source of cross-subsidy. Provinces, to varying degrees (most prominently in Ontario), have been introducing competition to chip-away at other sources of surplus that allowed universities to cross-subsidize research intensity. Together, these two processes are putting the long-standing business model of big Canadian universities at risk.

    The whole issue of cross-subsidization raises two policy questions which are not often discussed in polite company – in Canada, at least. The first has to do with cross-subsidization and whether it is the correct policy or not. I suspect there is a strong majority among higher education’s interested public that think it probably is a good policy; we just don’t know for sure because the policy emerged, as so many Canadian policies do, through a process of extreme passive-aggressiveness. Institutions were mad at governments for not directly funding what they wanted to do, so they went off and did their own thing. Governments, grateful not to be harassed for money, said nothing, which institutions took for approval whereas in fact it was just (temporary) non-disapproval. 

    (I should add here – precisely because of all the passive-aggressiveness – it is not 100% clear to me the extent to which provincial governments understand the implications of introducing competition. When they allow new private or college degree programs, they likely think “we are improving options for students” not “I wonder how this might degrade the ability of institutions to conduct research”. And, of course, the reason they don’t think that is precisely because Canadians achieve everything through passive-aggression rather than open policy debates which might illuminate choices and trade-offs. Yay, us.)

    The second policy question – which we really never ever raise – is whether or not research-intensity, as it is practiced in Canadian universities, is worth subsidizing in the first place. I know, you’re all reading that in shock and horror because what is a university if it is not about research? Well, that’s a pretty partial view, and historically, a pretty recent one.  Even among the U15, there are several institutions whose commitment to being big research enterprises is less than 40 years old. And, of course, we already have plenty of universities (e.g. the Maple League) where research simply isn’t a focus – what’s to say the current balance of research-intensive to non-research-intensive universities is the correct one?

    Now add the following thought: if the country clearly doesn’t think that university research matters because the knowledge economy doesn’t matter and we should all be out there hewing wood and drawing water, and if the federal government not only chops the budget 2024 promises on research but then also cuts deeply into existing budgets, what compelling policy reason is there to keep arranging our universities the way we do?  Why not get off the cross-subsidization treadmill and think of ways of spending money on actually improving undergraduate education (which the sector always claims to be doing, but isn’t much, really).

    I am not, of course, advocating this as a course of policy. But given the way both the politics of research universities and the economics of their business models are heading, we might need to start discussing this stuff. Maybe even openly, for a change.

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  • Am I the Weakest Link?

    Am I the Weakest Link?

    by Paul Temple

    Call me a sad old geezer, but I’m finding the never-ending positivity that characterises LinkedIn’s sunshine world rather wearing. To take one example, the “comment” options you’re offered after each post might run from “awesome“, through “love this,” to merely “impressive”: where is “misleading”, “time-wasting”, or “plain wrong”? Anyway, turning this negativity (my “inner snark” as a kindly colleague once put it) into a business proposition, in a way that LinkedIn’s owners (Microsoft paid $26 billion for it back in 2016) would surely understand, I’m about to pitch a rival version,  provisionally titled PissedOff – though the investors might want to focus-group that first. (Warning: if this title offends you, please stop reading at this point.) It will instead tap into the deep wells of pessimism that characterise so much of British life (though the French surely are just as good at it). The sociologists refer to this kind of thinking as “narratives of decline”, supported by Britain’s unofficial national motto, “Could be worse”.

    So a typical post on my new site might be: “Dave has just been fired from the University of Hounslow – ‘I always hated the place anyway, and the VC was a complete ****er,’ he said.” “Dave, absolutely with you, mate, the place is beyond awful, surprised you stuck it as long as you did”. “Dave, you speak for all of us who have suffered at Hounslow – I got out as soon as I could. Nobody who values their integrity should think of working there”. I’m confident that the latest from PissedOff will be the first email that everyone working in higher education will open in the morning, to see who/where is getting the flak. An absolute rule of the site will be that references to “seeking new challenges” or similar euphemisms are banned: if you’ve been fired, let’s hear about it, it’s (usually) nothing to be ashamed of – be loud and proud. What you’re now going to do is make them very, very sorry…

    What will then happen is that everyone with a grudge about Hounslow (and which university doesn’t have an army of grudge-bearers?) will pile in, Four Yorkshiremen-style: “You think you had a bad time, let me tell you about what happened to me…”, and pretty soon the place will be a national laughing-stock. After the VC has had a torrid meeting with the governing body, and the HR Director has been fired as a pointless gesture, there might possibly be some improvements. I’d be surprised to learn of any institutional changes as a result of another glowing LinkedIn endorsement.

    LinkedIn’s Californian roots are its problem. Up to a point, and having seen it working first-hand, I am actually in favour of American-style positivity in organisations: there is a sense that if the people around you are saying “Yes, we can do this!”, then maybe the difficulties can, actually, be overcome – what the Navy calls the “Nelson Touch”. But equally, some of those difficulties may be intractable, and pretending they don’t exist won’t make them go away. If you want some actual American examples of difficulties being overcome, or not, look at George Keller’s still-excellent Academic Strategy (1983), or my own more recent reflections on it (Temple, 2018). Or my review of some honest American case studies of university leadership and – the book’s best bits – of its failures (Temple, 2020).

    What these studies show is how real problems are identified and how they then might be overcome. One of the weaknesses found in too many university strategy documents is the inability to face up to problems and creating instead a make-believe world (call it LinkedIn World) where everything always goes well and everyone is enjoying themselves. The danger, of course, is that strategy documents like that will make everyone pissed off even if they hadn’t been before. I once got into trouble with the VC of a post-92 university by asking, quite innocently (no, really), about the basis of a claim in a staff recruitment ad that they were a top-ten research university (something like that, anyway: as my then-colleague David Watson drily remarked, “Another fine mess you’ve got us into”.). This was a perfectly good university, doing a fine job in supporting regional development goals, doing next-to-no research (as measured by research income), but feeling it necessary to buy into the apex research university model. They were assuming that they had to live in LinkedIn World, rather than the world they were actually in. (I’m glad to say that the VC and I eventually parted on good terms – he even bought me a beer.)

    Anyway, once the IPO for PissedOff goes through, do join me for a cocktail on the deck of my yacht in Monte Carlo. But leave any whingeing about your job back in the office – I don’t want the real world intruding on my Riviera idyll, thank you very much.

    Dr Paul Temple is Honorary Associate Professor in the Centre for Higher Education Studies, UCL Institute of Education.

    Author: SRHE News Blog

    An international learned society, concerned with supporting research and researchers into Higher Education

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  • Opening January 2026: Inside One of the Biggest University Mergers in Australia

    Opening January 2026: Inside One of the Biggest University Mergers in Australia

    There’s a huge story going on right now in Australian higher education, one that hasn’t made many ripples outside the country yet, but really should have.

    In January of 2026, two of the country’s major universities will be merging. The old research intensive University of Adelaide, one of the country’s so-called sandstone — meaning prestigious — universities, will be joining with the newer post Dawkins i.e., created in the early 1990s, University of South Australia, which began its life as the South Australian Institute of Technology.

    The new institution, Adelaide University, will be a behemoth of a multiversity, among the five largest institutions in the country. I’m fairly certain I’m right in saying this is the largest merger ever of two anglophone universities. But there are a lot of questions about how this is gonna work out. How will the new institution manage to maintain two separate missions? One is a research institution and one is an access institution. How can two very distinct cultures be bridged? And also, how do you create a distinct curricular or pedagogical identity for a new institution?

    With me today is David Lloyd. He’s the Vice Chancellor of the University of South Australia, and until the merger happens, also the Deputy Vice Chancellor at the University of Adelaide, and as you probably guessed, he’s one of the architects of the merger.

    In the course of this interview, we cover a range of issues such as what are the benefits of mergers? Why these two institutions? Why now? And how on earth do you possibly make a merger of this scale actually work? I can’t do any of this justice in an intro, so let’s just turn it over to David.


    The World of Higher Education Podcast
    Episode 3.33 | Opening January 2026: Inside One of the Biggest University Mergers in Australia

    Transcript

    Alex Usher (AU): David, why merge these two institutions—and why now? What made this the right moment to bring these two very different institutions together?

    David Lloyd (DL): I guess sometimes we joke and say there’s never going to be a better time. I’m not sure there ever is a perfect time. In this case, it’s not our first attempt. Ever since UniSA was established in 1991, people have questioned why another university was needed in South Australia.

    Right now, though, the political landscape is aligned in support of this. There’s institutional ambition on both sides of the ledger—coming from different motivations, but ultimately converging. You’ve got leaders who’ve known each other for a long time, strong financial positions in both institutions, and a shared history—we came very close before. We nearly merged in 2012. We nearly did it again in 2018. So in some ways, it’s like—third time lucky.

    AU: What do you gain together that you don’t already have apart? What’s the advantage here?

    DL: One of the biggest advantages is scale. Australian universities are large organizations. UniSA has about 40,000 students and Adelaide has about 30,000. So combined, you’re looking at 70,000 students—which makes it a $2.1 billion enterprise. It’s a big operation. Now, big isn’t automatically better, but it does mean you’re more financially robust and resilient.

    At that scale, the student mix is also important—about 75% domestic and 25% international on day one. That gives you a really strong foundation, making the institution more shockproof in the face of events like the pandemic or future geopolitical disruptions. You get a very robust organization.

    And then, if you think about how you can leverage the cash flow of a $2.1 billion enterprise into applications and resources—it throws off a lot more than each institution could alone. That gives you a real capacity for investment.

    AU: You said this isn’t your first go at this, right? That this is actually at least the second time, that I know of, that this has been considered. So take us back. Presumably, at some point after 1991, as UniSA grew from being an old technical institution into what it is now, there would have been various moments when people said, “Hey, there are gains to be had from a merger.” Over this long period—20 or 30 years—what were the big turning points? When did the light go off and people say, “Aha, we should definitely do this”?

    DL: I think it goes back to the origins of the institution in the 1990s. When the policy came through under the Hawke Labor government—John Dawkins was the Minister for Education at the time—the creation of new institutions was happening across the country.

    In that formative period, you had faculties and activities from what had been an Institute of Technology and a College of Advanced Education. There was a bit of a shop-around approach—people were saying, “Well, these parts could go to University X, or those parts could go to University Y, or we could put them together and create something new.” And in South Australia, that led to the creation of a new university.

    So you went from a town with two institutions—the old, established sandstone University of Adelaide, and Flinders University, a 1950s construct—to suddenly having this new kid on the block in 1991. And it quickly became a real challenger to the other two. It grabbed a large share of the domestic market and drove the participation agenda. The national driver at the time was to increase tertiary attainment, and suddenly, a lot of people who’d never gone to university had access.

    Then you fast forward to 2012. There was a desire at that time—between the University of South Australia and the University of Adelaide—to pursue a merger. It didn’t go through, for all sorts of reasons. I think mostly small, local considerations. Peter Høj—who’s now my co–Vice Chancellor at the new Adelaide University—was the Vice Chancellor of UniSA back then. He left to run the University of Queensland.

    And I was recruited to lead UniSA after that particular push toward merger had fizzled. So I came into an institution that had thought about merging, had moved somewhat in that direction, but ultimately hadn’t done it.

    Then in 2018, the same kinds of conversations came up again. These things tend to resurface when there’s a leadership change. When a Vice Chancellor leaves, people say, “Well, we could hire a new one—or we could merge the universities.” It’s a very simple framing, but it does come up.

    In 2018, that cycle happened again. We went quite far down the road exploring a merger. There was a public process. But in the end, UniSA withdrew. We said no, and we said no because of the business case. What was being articulated at that time didn’t look like something that would take the goals and ambitions of the institution to where we believed it needed to be—especially not given the overhead that would come with creating a new university.

    So things settled down again—until we got to the conditions we talked about earlier, the ones that make this moment feel like the right one.

    AU: Let me just ask you—based on what you’ve described, why, from the University of South Australia’s perspective, is Adelaide the right merger partner? Why not Flinders?

    DL: Yeah, yeah, that’s a really good point. I can tell you that in the various machinations over the years—and I’ve been here now for 13 years—there have definitely been times when I thought, you could actually end up with quite a different landscape in South Australia. UniSA and Flinders could have come together to create a kind of younger, more modern university that would have competed in the domestic market against the older, more established University of Adelaide. That would’ve created a local differentiator.

    But the combination that actually came about—and the reason we are where we are today—has a lot to do with a key political shift. In 2021, while still in opposition, the now state government released a policy position saying that, if elected, they would establish a merger commission to examine the merits of a combination—with a view to making it happen. It was a very clear and determinative policy.

    They believed a merger had been a missed opportunity in the past and were committed to a process that would determine the next steps. That put universities in an interesting position. You had the prospect of an external body telling you, “You have to merge—and here’s who you’re going to merge with.” That creates a real risk of losing institutional autonomy and control.

    What stood out in that policy position, though, was the stated ambition to create a university that could rank sustainably in the global top 100. If you look at different combinations, a UniSA–Flinders merger wouldn’t get you there—at least not without a significant uplift in investment. But a UniSA–University of Adelaide merger could. And so that becomes one of the key factors shaping the path we chose.

    AU: There’s one other country that’s really moved in this direction, specifically with the goal of getting institutions into the global top 100, and that’s France. Right? You’ve seen a lot of that in places like Lyon and Paris. Did you spend much time looking at the dos and don’ts from the French experience—or from any other international mergers?

    DL: We did spend some time on that. There’s quite a bit of jurisdictional variability when it comes to amalgamating institutions. The example we really studied, with a kind of weather eye on how to do this properly, was the creation of the University of Manchester.

    But that was quite a while ago now. When we looked at the French experience, what stood out was that their approach often seemed to involve putting a veneer of amalgamation over existing institutions and then dropping a kind of cash bundle on top to make the veneer hold together. So it’s less the creation of a single institution and more the creation of an amalgamated system. From our perspective, this is a non-trivial exercise. We didn’t want to just have an umbrella that said, “This is a merged university.” We wanted to create a new university.

    And from UniSA’s side, the conditions for entering the process were very clear: we would create a new institution—with its own mission, its own purpose—its own values, and all of those things. That’s not really what the French model does. But one interesting lesson from the French approach was that if you apply that veneer—and if you’re something like Paris-Saclay—you can be considered a young university again, which is an intriguing outcome. The Sorbonne, for example, is now viewed as a young university again.

    That was an interesting insight into how these things are perceived. So for us, the goal was to do this really well—to create an integrated, new institution. That way, we’d have the benefits of a young university, with all the pedigree and legacy behind us too.

    AU: David, I assume—though I’m not sure exactly what process you used—there was some kind of letter of intent or memorandum of understanding that said, “We’re going to do this, and we’re serious.” How does the planning process unfold from there? Once you’ve done the initial feasibility and assured each other you’re acting in good faith, how do you move through the bottlenecks of institutional governance, stakeholder engagement, and all those kinds of things? How do you get to the finish line?

    DL: Um, great tenacity—I think that’s key. Peter and I started this as an informal conversation back in 2021, and we’re planning to open the doors of the new university on the first Monday of 2026—January 5th. So it’s a long road from informal talks to delivering a functional, operational, competitive institution.

    On the plus side, we had very strong intent from the state government to enable this. In our system, it’s the state government that legislates the creation of universities. But then you also have to negotiate with the federal government to be recognized as an Australian university—

    AU: And funded.

    DL: Exactly. So, at the local level, we could establish a corporate body, but we still needed legislation to pass through the house. It was much more complex than just signing an MOU.

    We actually had to draft legislation and, mechanistically, we created a new corporate entity—a new university—that sits alongside the two existing ones. So when I’m co–Vice Chancellor of the new Adelaide University, I’m still the Vice Chancellor of the University of South Australia. These are independent and autonomous institutions—one of which is actively creating the other, even while the original continues to exist legislatively. It’s quite an unusual construct.

    On the federal side, this goes back to why now. The current federal government—a Labor government—has a strong agenda around widening participation. When we approached them and said, “We’re going to have the largest population of domestic Australian students of any institution in the country,” that positioned us as a sovereign educator. We’re delivering an equity and participation agenda at a scale no other Australian university can match. That naturally leads to a conversation about: how do they help us set it up?

    AU: As I understand it, you’ve got some kind of transition council. I’m not sure if that’s a joint council for both institutions, or if each has its own. How does that work? Who’s on that council making the nitty-gritty decisions? And how do you make sure everything stays on track?

    DL: That goes back to the legislation. Adelaide University was formally established in legislation in March 2024. That legislation created a council—capital “C”—with the word “transition” in front of it, which gives you a sense of its purpose.

    The composition of that council was agreed upon by the two institutions, determining how to populate the board of this new university from the existing boards of UniSA and the University of Adelaide. It was set up as a 50/50 split between the two, with UniSA having the right to appoint the chancellor of the new university. That was one of the key elements in the background negotiations—like why it’s called Adelaide University and not the University of South Australia.

    In fact, the act establishing the new university is based on the University of South Australia Act, and UniSA retained the right to appoint the transition chancellor.

    But functionally, this council operates as a fully independent university council, completely autonomous from the two existing institutions. Everyone who joined the council had to step off their former boards and now acts solely in the interest of the new institution, as required by law.

    What the council does is provide a governance framework for the executive to work within. It approves the strategy, but it’s the executive team—originally Peter and myself, along with a team drawn from both universities—that brings forward the decisions.

    Now, we’ve started appointing deputy vice chancellors who are employees of the new Adelaide University. We’ve brought forward a strategy that actually originated in the business case—a white paper—that both universities had independently agreed was in their best interests.

    If you go back to 2022, we were asking: What will we create? What should it look like? Why are we doing this? How much will it cost? We built a strong business case and rationale. That was then translated into a strategy for the new institution—one that doesn’t just cover the start in 2024, but runs all the way through to 2030. That’s when we aim to have a fully established, steady-state university of scale, delivering everything we set out to achieve: a purposeful, excellent institution.

    AU: One thing that’s really struck me about this process—watching it from 8,000 miles away—is how remarkably smooth it seems to have been. Mergers often stir up a lot of turbulence, especially with alumni communities. And while I don’t know the geography of Adelaide very well, I imagine there can be tensions if one part of town gains certain things and another part doesn’t.

    Then there’s the fact that your two institutions have different origins, stories, and areas of specialization—but still quite a bit of overlap in terms of departments and programs. That’s usually where the real head-butting happens: getting people to play nicely together. But you seem to have managed that really well. What’s the secret to a smooth merger?

    DL: Well, part of it is that this is our third attempt—so maybe it’s third time lucky. As I said earlier, this isn’t our first rodeo. This has been considered before, so there was a certain inevitability in the way we presented it this time. There was a clear policy position, enabling legislation, and strong support from the government behind us.

    But that only takes you so far. You can’t just rely on top-down directives. People can still dig in their heels. If the message had been, “We’re doing this because we were told to,” we could’ve faced a lot of turbulence.

    Instead, what we had were two universities that went through their own internal processes—through their academic boards, their senates—and independently concluded that creating this new institution was in their best interest, and in the best interest of the state. So both came to the table willingly, but from different perspectives.

    Each institution had a view of what it would give up—and what it would become. This is really a baton pass from both organizations to something new.

    And when we looked at the mechanics of creating that new institution, we didn’t take a “lift and shift” approach. We didn’t just bundle together the activities of both universities under a single umbrella. We committed to building a new structure. We committed to delivering a new curriculum. We agreed to design everything—program content included—through a forward-looking Adelaide University lens, rather than from the perspective of UniSA’s past or Adelaide’s past.

    And what was remarkable—and maybe a bit fortuitous—was the way our people responded. Let’s say we brought together two marketing faculties. We told them, “We want you to design a new curriculum that takes the best of both.” And instead of any sense of loss or resistance, what we got was strong academic alignment in shaping that new product.

    We did that across the board—wherever we had overlapping programs: two business degrees, two law degrees, two science degrees. The faculty teams who had once been institutional competitors came together and asked, “If we start with a blank piece of paper—not with the past—what would the ideal program look like?”

    And that approach has been incredibly unifying. Thousands of academics have gone through that process already, and many more will continue to do so between now and 2030.

    AU: You’re talking about new programs here. What’s striking, again from a distance, is the early commitment to pedagogy—a move away from the traditional lecture system. As I understand it, the institution committed to moving away from in-person lectures. Have I got that right? Is that the plan?

    DL: I love having these conversations—especially when the 8,000-kilometer view is, “You guys aren’t going to have lectures anymore.”

    AU: That’s why we’re having this conversation, David!

    DL: Exactly. And we had a similar conversation in Beijing when we were on stage launching the new brand. Journalists there were asking the same thing. But no, we are not getting rid of lectures.

    What we are getting rid of is the idea that students just sit in a room while someone talks at them for an hour, and then leave—as if knowledge has magically transferred from the person at the podium to the students in the seats. Instead, we’re aiming for much richer, more engaging classroom experiences.

    These will still be face-to-face, but students will come prepared. The foundational content—the pre-reading, the prerequisite material—will be delivered online. We’ll expect students to engage with that before attending the in-person component, whether it’s a workshop, tutorial, or some other interactive format.

    And that core online content is being designed so it can also stand alone. If you’re not physically in South Australia, you’ll still be able to engage with the material from anywhere—across the country or internationally.

    AU: So, it’s flipped classrooms at scale?

    DL: Yes. Exactly.

    AU: That’s a significant pedagogical shift. It’s not something you’d typically get from individual departmental committees. Was there wide buy-in for that? Because even when you frame it as flipped classrooms rather than online classes, it still feels like a big change for academics across a wide range of disciplines.

    DL: Yeah, and I think in a post-COVID era, that shift is more understandable. The pandemic showed us all that you can go online—and do it either really well or really poorly. But if you do it well, students can have a great experience.

    We’ve anchored all of our structural decisions through the lens of student experience and student success. And the evidence we have shows that, when done right, students actually report better experiences with these kinds of blended or flipped models than they do with traditional, lecture-heavy formats.

    If you go back to one of UniSA’s strengths: in 2018, we created a division called UniSA Online. Higher education bodies now say we’re number one in Australia for online education—and top ten globally. That means we already had a strong engine for content creation and pedagogical design.

    Now we’re layering that into an institution with the generational pedigree and academic reputation that the University of Adelaide brings. So together, the new Adelaide University will have a really compelling mix.

    And to be clear—it’s not a wholesale replacement of everything that came before. The academic content is still owned by the faculty. What’s changed is how that content is curated and presented in the online environment. That curation is handled institutionally, but the ownership remains firmly with the academics.

    AU: We’re a little more than seven months away from opening day. I have two questions: what are you most looking forward to in all of this? And what do you think the global implications are—what lessons might institutions outside Australia take from this?

    DL: Yeah. The first part—this has been nearly a five-year journey for me, getting this institution to the point of opening. On a personal level, my daughter is just finishing a diploma with the University of South Australia. She’s about to start her degree in the next few weeks, entering mid-year. So she’ll begin at UniSA just as it officially ends—and she’ll graduate from Adelaide University in, hopefully, three years’ time.

    So I have a very real hope that we’ve managed to build an institution that will empower her, her peers, our colleagues, and future learners—to be successful, to find meaningful employment, and to have a great experience along the way. That’s not the reason we did all this, of course, but when I look at the outcomes we aimed for, I want to see that we’ve hit the metrics we set.

    It’s a very ambitious strategy. But we’ve had the financial resources and a long runway to plan—something only a whole-of-institution change like this could make possible.

    Personally, I’m really looking forward to 2030. That’s when I want to look back and assess whether we’ve achieved what we set out to do. Not necessarily from inside the organization—Peter and I won’t be the Vice Chancellors next year. We’ve made a conscious decision to hand over to a new leader who will carry this strategy forward.

    But I want to see how they reach those milestones based on the breadcrumbs and trail we’ve laid down. And in the next few months, we’ll see the inaugural rankings for this institution as we move into its first year of operation. I’m quietly confident we’ll meet our targets.

    And I’ll admit—part of me is looking forward to proving the doubters wrong. The ones who said, “You can’t do this. You’ll go backwards. It’s dilution.” I want them to be left eating humble pie. Glen Davis—the former Vice Chancellor of the University of Melbourne, now working in the Prime Minister’s department—once said to me, “Good luck as you attempt the impossible.” And if we pull this off, that’s where the real satisfaction will come from.

    AU: And from an international perspective—what should others learn from this?

    DL: I think what we’re demonstrating is that there are two ways to approach a merger. You can put up an umbrella, apply a veneer, and say, “Here’s a system.” Or you can take a planned, deliberate, mindful approach—what I wouldn’t call a leap of faith, but an investment in doing it properly.

    And that means proper integration. Proper consideration of what it means to deliver a new organization—not just on paper, but in culture, structure, and purpose. If you do that, you can create something that really is more than the sum of its parts.

    I think we’re showing what’s possible.

    AU: DL, thank you so much for being with us today.

    DL: Pleasure. Thanks, Alex.

    AU: And it just remains for me to thank our excellent producers, Tiffany MacLennan and Sam Pufek, and to thank you—our viewers, listeners, and readers—for joining us. If you have any questions or comments about today’s episode, or suggestions for future ones, don’t hesitate to get in touch at [email protected]. Run—don’t walk—to our YouTube page and subscribe. That way, you’ll never miss an episode of The World of Higher Education.

    Join us next week, when our guest will once again be Brendan Cantwell from Michigan State University. You may remember him from last fall’s episode, when he suggested—based on a close reading of Project 2025—that a second Trump administration might shift from a culture war posture to one of active sabotage and destruction of the higher education sector. We’ll see whether he can resist saying, “I told you so.” Bye for now.

    *This podcast transcript was generated using an AI transcription service with limited editing. Please forgive any errors made through this service. Please note, the views and opinions expressed in each episode are those of the individual contributors, and do not necessarily reflect those of the podcast host and team, or our sponsors.

    This episode is sponsored by KnowMeQ. ArchieCPL is the first AI-enabled tool that massively streamlines credit for prior learning evaluation. Toronto based KnowMeQ makes ethical AI tools that boost and bottom line, achieving new efficiencies in higher ed and workforce upskilling. 

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  • HESA’s AI Observatory: What’s new in higher education (May 16, 2025)

    HESA’s AI Observatory: What’s new in higher education (May 16, 2025)

    Highlight from a Canadian PSI

    New AI Research Assistant available in library search

    April 25th, 2025. University of Manitoba. 

    UManitoba recently announced the launch of their new AI Research Assistant (beta), a GenAI tool to help with library searches and to help gather initial insights on research topics. Functions include providing summarized responses to research questions, recommending relevant publications from the libraries’ collections, and suggesting additional question prompts to expand the research topic.

    AI Policy

    Encadrement de l’IA en enseignement supérieur: des syndicats d’enseignants déplorent la lenteur de Québec à agir

    Dion-Viens, Daphnée. Le Journal de Montréal. April 24th, 2025.  

    “Québec a annoncé l’automne dernier la création d’une instance de concertation sur l’intelligence artificielle en enseignement supérieur, dont les travaux ont débuté en octobre. Le bilan des travaux devait être présenté en avril, mais cet échéancier a été repoussé à la fin de l’été. Un cadre de référence pour l’intégration de l’IA dans les cégeps et les universités devrait être présenté à la rentrée. La Fédération nationale des enseignantes et enseignants du Québec (FNEEQ-CSN) déplore ce report. Le temps presse puisque plusieurs établissements attendent ces lignes directrices pour agir. »

    Universities have a chance to lead in shaping AI’s future

    Kaya-Kasikci, S. et al. University World News. April 23th, 2025.

    The authors of a recent academic analysis of national AI policies share their thoughts about how the diverse AI policy approaches and perspectives around the world might impact the future of post-secondary education.   

    Transformation of Education

    Are You Ready for the AI University?

    Latham, S. The Chronicle of Higher Education. April 8th. 2025. 

    “What’s happening in higher education today has a name: creative destruction. The economist Joseph Schumpeter coined the term in 1942 to describe how innovation can transform industries. That typically happens when an industry has both a dysfunctional cost structure and a declining value proposition. Both are true of higher education.“

    AI is unable to outpace higher education

    Lumina Foundation. April 29th, 2025. 

    “Leaders from academia, economic development, and industry discuss how universities and colleges are advancing research and equipping students with the skills to lead in an AI-powered future. From addressing social inequities to preparing cities for the economy of the future, the conversation highlights the transformative potential of AI when nurtured within higher education, and the tradeoffs that must be made in an education system wired for the past.“

    Gen Z says AI has made their college degrees irrelevant

    Torres, R. April 29th, 2025. Higher Ed Dive.

    “The ongoing push to deemphasize college degree requirements in job postings has led half of Gen Z job seekers to view their degrees as a waste of time and money”, according to a recent Indeed report that surveyed 772 US adulted workers and job seekers with an associate’s degree or higher.

    Workforce readiness

    Labor Market Disruption and Policy Readiness in the AI Era

    McGrath, E. and Burris, M. The Century Foundation. April 29th, 2025.

    Policy recommendations to prepare current and future workforce for AI.

    Teaching and Learning

    Here is how experiential learning can save colleges from AI

    McKeen, S. University Business. April 30th, 2025.

    “If knowledge is now universally accessible, what remains of higher education’s value? (…) The traditional college lecture is obsolete. Why should students pay thousands in tuition to sit in a lecture hall when AI can summarize complex theories in seconds? The world no longer rewards passive knowledge absorption. Employers want graduates who can think critically, collaborate effectively, and apply knowledge in complex, unpredictable environments. Experiential learning isn’t just an educational trend— it’s a survival strategy.“

    Is AI Enhancing Education or Replacing It?

    Shirky, C. The Chronicle of Higher Education. April 29th, 2025.

    “The fact that AI might help students learn is no guarantee it will help them learn. […] The teacher can advance learning only by influencing the student to learn.Faced with generative AI in our classrooms, the obvious response for us is to influence students to adopt the helpful uses of AI while persuading them to avoid the harmful ones. Our problem is that we don’t know how to do that.“

    Teaching Writing in the Age of AI

    Mintz, S. Inside Higher Ed. May 2nd, 2025. 

    « As artificial intelligence becomes increasingly capable of generating polished, grammatically correct text that meets academic standards, educators face a critical challenge: How can we teach students to write authentically and effectively? » This author talks about the challenges of teaching writing in the AI era, and provide tips on how to move beyond these challenges.

    3 Laws for Curriculum Design in an AI Age

    Chaudhuri, A. and Trainor, J. Inside Higher Ed. April 30th, 2025.

    The authors share « a framework for thinking about how to address AI technology in the curriculum at all levels, from the individual classroom to degree-level road maps, from general education through graduate courses. »

    When GenAI resets the assessment baseline

    Jones, C. Times Higher Education. April 29th, 2025. 

    A visiting lecturer at Regent’s University London, Kingston University and more shares how he reassessed his assignment to mitigate students using AI to do all the work for them. His initial plan was to have ChatGPT create a « baseline » output against which he could mark his students assignments, but he was surprised to realize that the ouptut was better than most undergraduate students would have delivered. He had to review his approach, and shares his strategy in this article.

    Research

    AI Summary ‘trashed author’s work’ and took weeks to be corrected

    Ross, J. Times Higher Education. April 24th, 2025.

    AI research summaries ‘exaggerate findings’, study warns

    Ross, J. Times Higher Education. April 16th, 2025.

    « Dutch and British researchers have found that AI summaries of scientific papers are much more likely than the original authors or expert reviewers to ‘overgeneralise’ he results. (…) AI summaries – purportedly designed to help spread scientific knowledge by rephrasing it in ‘easily understandable language’ – tend to ignore ‘uncertainties, limitations and nuances’ in the research by ‘omitting qualifiers’ and ‘oversimplifying’ the text. Read the academic paper here

    AI Literacy

    Using peer networks to integrate AI literacy into liberal arts

    McMurtrie, B. The Chronicle of Higher Education. April 24th, 2025.

    Read how an associate professor of anthropology at the University of Texas at San Antonio is teaching students about effective AI use.

    Urgent Need for AI Literacy

    Schroeder, R. April 30th, 2025. Inside Higher Ed. 

    « As we approach May, alarm bells are ringing for all colleges and universities to ensure that AI literacy programs have been completed by learners who plan to enter the job market this year and in the future. »

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  • Probably not the next Laurentian, but…..

    Probably not the next Laurentian, but…..

    As I noted yesterday, there are only two institutions in Canada which have run deficits in each of the last five years: St. Thomas University (STU) and Vancouver Island University (VIU). In both instances, these institutions have had deficits averaging between 4 and 5% of their total income over the course of those five years. By any definition, this puts them on some kind of watch list.

    As Figures 1 and 2 show, the root cause of both institutions’ problems is the same—namely, a big two-stage decline in enrolment. The first stage came in the early 10s, when the domestic youth population was shrinking, and the second came during Covid. The numbers are particularly bad at VIU, where the number of international students is down by over 35%. If these institutions could just get their enrolment numbers back to where they were in 2018, then STU’s tuition income would be about $3 million higher, while VIU’s would rise by roughly $20 million. In both cases, that would be enough to put the institutions well into the black. The much larger numbers at VIU are not just because it is a larger institution, but because the recent fall in student numbers is happening disproportionately on the international student side.

    Figure 1: Domestic and International Enrolment, St Thomas University, 2012-12 to 2022-23

    Figure 2: Domestic and International Enrolment, Vancouver Island University, 2012-12 to 2022-23

    At this point, folks, I am going to have to do something which some might find triggering, which is to invoke the L-word, because I am quite certain that everyone remembers the extent to which falling enrolment and a drop in tuition revenue were among the key elements in the collapse at Laurentian. I am not going to do this because I necessarily think either of these institutions is following the Laurentian path exactly. One very big dissimilarity is that neither STU nor VIU has any long-term debt, which was another of the key factors at work at Laurentian. Rather, I am doing it because I think at least some of the same dynamics are at play, particularly at VIU, which just happens to be about the same size as Laurentian in terms of enrolment and budget size, albeit without some of Laurentian’s big ambitions with respect to research. In fact, given the VIU/Laurentian similarity, I will concentrate the rest of this analysis on this west coast institution. I might come back to STU sometime, but for the moment, I will leave it aside.

    Let’s start by looking at budget surpluses over time at VIU and Laurentian. Figure 3 shows the last fifteen years of VIU’s surpluses/deficits and compares them to the fifteen years prior to the insolvency declaration at Laurentian. Based simply on the last five years or so, there is no question that VIU is actually worse than Laurentian. The institution has spent $34 million more than it earned in the last five years; Laurentian, in contrast, was only $9 million in the red over a similar period prior to insolvency. But shift your eyes to the left of that graph for a minute, and you’ll see another difference: Laurentian ran deficits basically for most of the fifteen years prior to its events, whereas VIU was in pretty good shape. What that meant was that when the bad times started five years ago, VIU had a decent accumulated surplus to draw from. That is why the institution has been able to carry on over the past few years, but since it has now drawn down well over half of its accumulated surplus ($30.6 million in 2024, down from $78 million in 2018), that strategy doesn’t really have any more room to run.

    Figure 3: Long-term Record of Surpluses/Deficits, in Millions, Laurentian vs VIU

    There are also significant differences between the two institutions when you look at cash balances, as below in Figure 4. Laurentian was basically out of gas and surviving on fumes for several years prior to the collapse, with cash reserves barely enough to cover a couple of weeks of operating expenditures; VIU has never been anywhere near that point. However, note the big dip in VIU’s cash last year. It reversed itself, but only because the institution sold off a big chunk of portfolio investments precisely (I think) to boost cash reserves. There are warning signs here for sure, albeit nothing like Laurentian’s blaring klaxons.

    Figure 4: Long-term Record of Cash Position at End of Fiscal, in Millions, Laurentian vs VIU

    The final comparison I want to make has to do with what is known as the “working capital ratio.” This is one of the key financial tests that the Government of Ontario uses to identify institutions in financial trouble, and it is the ratio between “current assets” (basically, cash plus accounts receivable) to current liabilities plus deferred contributions for research. Anything below a ratio of 1 puts you in the “high-risk” category.

    (Nota bene: some people think this ratio is not very useful because in a liquid market, institutions can move “long-term” investments to short-term fairly easily—as indeed VIU seems to have done last year when it sold off some of its portfolio investments in order to recharge cash reserves. However, since it’s an official government metric, it’s probably due a little respect, so I am using it here anyway.)

    One challenge in comparing VIU and Laurentian on the working capital metric is that they don’t quite calculate their liabilities identically, mainly because their respective provincial governments don’t ask them to categorize balance sheets in the same way. Specifically, VIU does not break out “current” from long-term liabilities, and also it lists substantial sums of tuition fees owed as “deferred revenue” while Laurentian does not. My read of this is therefore that to make the two sets of data on current liabilities comparable, one has to exclude from VIU’s numbers both “deferred capital contributions” and “deferred revenue”. Which is what I have done below in Figure 5.

    What Figure 5 shows is arguably similar to what Figure 3 shows: a metric in which a) neither institution looks particularly good, but b) Laurentian’s position is on the whole worse, and c) Laurentian’s deterioration is long and gradual while VIU’s is rather sharp.

    Figure 5: Long-term Record of Working Capital Ratios, Laurentian vs VIU

    To be crystal clear: I don’t think VIU is really on the verge of Laurentian-ing. It has no long-term debt. It has had a bigger cushion to fall back on. The province is on the verge of a youth boom, which should help a bit in bringing student numbers and revenues back up. It is working for a provincial government which is far more proactive than the frequently clueless one in Queen’s Park. And in fall 2023, it adopted a fairly aggressive if not especially strategic program of cost-cutting (ten percent for all units over three years), which in theory was supposed to right the ship.

    However:

    1. Even if VIU is not Laurentian, many of its key financial indicators look awfully familiar. From deficits to cash levels, to working cash ratios, it all seems very Mark Twain: history does not repeat, but it rhymes.
    2. That aggressive deficit reduction package didn’t reckon with Marc Miller, whose cuts to visas and policy of publicly crapping on the quality of Canadian institutions is likely to result in further drops in international student numbers and therefore reductions in income in the millions of dollars. There could still be problems ahead (I assume this may be what has been behind this week’s decision to consider suspending and/or cancelling roughly twenty programs at the diploma, undergraduate and graduate levels).
    3. The VIU community appears to be only dimly aware of how bad things are. When VIU President Deborah Saucier recently resigned, it was—according to CBC at least—because the VIU community would not support further cuts because they were not “supported by evidence.” Now, there may have been more to it than that (Lord knows CBC can be pretty crapulous at fact-checking post-secondary stories), but if it is anywhere near the truth, then the VIU community is clearly having some trouble facing a pretty serious reality, and that complicates any revival plan.

    Vancouver Island needs a second, flourishing undergraduate university and that can only be achieved through a strong financial base. Best wishes, therefore, to the folks at VIU as they grapple with these issues.

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  • Post-COVID University Surpluses (Deficits) | HESA

    Post-COVID University Surpluses (Deficits) | HESA

    Ok, everyone, buckle up. For I have been looking at university financial statements for 2023-24 and the previous few years, and I have Some Thoughts.

    In this exercise, I examined the financial statements from 2017-18 onwards for the 66 Canadian universities which are not federated with a larger institution and had income over $20 million. L’Université du Québec was excluded from the analysis below because it has yet to release financial statements for 2023-24.

    Figure 1 shows the average net surplus (that is, total income minus total expenditures as a percentage of total income) across all institutions for the fiscal years 2017-18 to 2023-24. As is evident from the graph, fiscal years 2018 through 2021 were all pretty good, apart from 2020 (the stock market did its COVID tank right at the end of the fiscal year and radically reduced investment returns that year), and overall surpluses were in the 6% range, which is not bad. But post-COVID, things got a bit rough, and the returns dropped to about 4%. Note, though, that there is a significant gap between the “big beasts” of the Canadian university scene and everyone else. In the good years, U15 institutions, which in financial terms represent about 60% of the system, saw surpluses about two percentage points higher than non-U15 institutions. Since 2022, the gap has been about three percentage points.

    Figure 1: Average Surpluses as a Percentage of Total Income, Canadian Universities, Fiscal Years 2018 to 2024

    Why have surpluses shrunk in the past few years? No surprise here: it is simply that costs have increased by about 7% in real terms for the past five years (that is about 1.4% above inflation each year), while revenues have only grown 3.7% (0.75% above inflation each year). Income growth has been pretty similar across U15 and non-U15 institutions, but expenditure growth has been significantly larger at non-U15 institutions.

    Figure 2: 5-year real change in Income and Expenditure, Canadian Universities, 2018-19 to 2023-24

    It is worth pointing out here, though, that all of this data is from before any of the effects of the international student visa cap of 2024 come into play. In eight out of ten provinces, it has been income from students that has driven universities’ revenue growth over the past five years. Only in Quebec and British Columbia has government spending been the main driver (and yes, I know, the idea that revenue from students is declining in British Columbia was a bit shocking to me too, but I triple-checked and its true—this is the one part of the country where international student revenue was falling even before Marc Miller started swinging his axe around).

    Figure 3: 5-year real change in Income by Source and Region, Canadian Universities, 2018-19 to 2023-24

    If you assume that international student numbers overall drop by 40% over three years (which is roughly what the government says it wants to achieve), then what we are likely is a decrease of about 11% in total university revenues between now and 2027 (assuming no other changes in enrolment or tuition fees, and an annual increase in government expenditures of inflation plus 1% which is what we saw in last year’s budget cycle but I wouldn’t necessarily bet on it for the future). Meanwhile, if we keep expenditures increasing at inflation plus 1.5%, we will see an increase in expenditures of about 6% by 2028. The result is what I would call a trulyyawning financial gap over the next four years. And it is precisely this that keeps senior admins up at night.

    Figure 4: Projected changes in Income and Expenditure, Canadian Universities, 2017-18 to 2027-28, Indexed to 2017-18

    Now to be clear, I don’t expect the sector to be posting multi-billion dollar gaps implied by Figure 4 (for clarity: while Figure 4 displays changes in projected income and expenditure in index terms, if the gap that opens up between 2024 and 2028 is as depicted here, the change in net position for universities will be equal to about $7 billion in 2028, which given current surpluses of $2 billion/year implies aggregate deficits of about $5 billion/year or about 11% of total income). The income drop will probably not be quite this bad, both because I expect institutions to raise fees on international students, and because I suspect international student numbers will not fall quite this far because provinces will re-distribute spots going unused by colleges (due to the reduction in enrolments that will ensure from last fall’s changes to the post-graduate work visa program). Similarly, the increase in expenditures won’t be this high either because institutions are going to do all they can to “bend the curve” in anticipation of a fall in revenues. But bottom line: there’s a looming $5 billion income gap that has to be closed just to stay in balance, and larger if we want the system to have at least some surpluses for rainy (rainier?) days in future.

    Anyways, back to the present. We can, of course, drill down to the institutional level, too. At this point in the exercise, I have chosen to exclude two more institutions from my calculations. The first is Concordia because it has a unique (and IMHO really irritating) practice of splitting its financial reporting between the institution and its “Foundation” (don’t ask), with the result that the institution’s financial statements alone tend to show the institution as worse off than it really is. The second is Royal Roads, which uniquely took a stonking great write-down on capital investments in 2024 and so frankly looks a lot worse than I think it should.

    So with our sample now down to just 63 institutions, Table 1 shows that in fact most universities have been doing OK over the past few years. Of the institutions included in this part of the analysis, 39 have been deficit-free since 2021-22, and 28 have not shown a deficit in any of the last five years. However, there are three institutions where it might be time to start worrying: Carleton, which has posted three consecutive deficits, and St. Thomas and Vancouver Island University, which have posted deficits in each of the past five years. Carleton is a little bit less worrisome than the other two because it socked away some huge surpluses in the years prior to 2022 and so has a little bit more runway. I’ll come back to the other two in a moment.

    Years in deficit Since 2019-20 Since 2021-22
    5 2
    4 0 n/a
    3 6 3
    2 13 7
    1 16 16
    0 28 39

    Figure 5, below, shows combined net surplus over the past five fiscal years (2019-20 to 2023-24) as a percentage of total revenues. There are eight institutions which have net losses over the past five years, and another eight with surpluses between 0 and 2% of total revenues, which I would characterize as “precarious.” There are another 29 institutions with combined five-year surpluses, which are between 2 and 5% of total revenues, which are not great but not in the immediate danger zone either. Finally, there are 18 institutions with surpluses of 5% or more, which I would characterize as being “safe,” including two (Algoma and Cape Breton) which have five-year surplus rates of over 20% (this is what happens when your student body is 75%+ international)

    Figure 5: Distribution of 5-year aggregate net surpluses, Canadian Institutions, 2019-20 to 2020-24

    But note the right-hand side of that graph. There are two institutions that have five-year deficits equal to more than 4% of their total revenues. And those two are the same two that have posted deficits for each of the past five years: St. Thomas University in New Brunswick and Vancouver Island University in British Columbia. I’ll talk about them in a bit more depth tomorrow.

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  • Private international foundation courses, and what they say about university leadership

    Private international foundation courses, and what they say about university leadership

    by Morten Hansen

    My research on the history of private international pathway providers and their public alternatives shows how some universities have stopped believing in themselves. Reversing this trend requires investment in their capabilities and leadership.

    The idea that universities have stopped believing in themselves as institutions that can take on the challenges of the day and find solutions that are better than those developed by private rivals echoes a point recently revived by Mariana Mazzucato. Mazzucato explains how private firms often are portrayed like lions. Bold animals that make things happen. The public sector and third-sector organisations, on the contrary, are too often seen as gerbils. Timid animals that are no good at developing new and innovative solutions.

    Skilled salesmen convinced some universities that private companies are better than universities at teaching and recruiting for university preparatory programmes. The inbuilt premise of this pitch is that universities are gerbils and private providers are lions. One university staff member explained what it felt like meeting such salesmen:

    “The thing that sticks most in my mind is the dress. And how these people sat differently, looked differently, spoke differently, and we felt parochial. We felt like a bunch of country bumpkins against some big suits.” (University staff)

    The lion-gerbil pitch worked in institutions across England because universities were stifled by three interlocking practices of inaction: outsourcing capability development; taking ambiguous stands on international tuition fees; and refusing to cooperate with other universities.

    Outsourcing capability

    Universities are increasingly outsourcing core aspects of their operations, such as recruiting international students. While university leadership is often characterised as conservative, my research suggest that this trope misses something critical about contemporary university leadership in English higher education. The problem with the term ‘conservative’ is that it implies that leadership is risk-averse, and comfortable projecting past power structures, practices and norms into the future. This does not correspond to historical developments and practices in the sector for international pathways.

    The University of Exeter, for example, submitted incorporation documents for their limited liability partnership with INTO University Partnerships only six years after the Limited Liability Partnerships Act 2000 was passed, which marked the first time in England’s history that this legal setup was possible. They took a big leap of faith in the private sector’s ability to recruit students for them, and after doing so invested time and resources helping INTO to further develop its capability. They even invited them onto their campuses. It is hard to overstate how much these actions diverged from historical practice and thus ‘conservative’ leadership.

    What was once a highly unusual thing to do, has over the last two decades thoroughly normalised—to the extent that partnering with pathways now seems unavoidable. One respondent from the private sector explained this change in the following way:

    “In 2006, ‘07, ‘08, ‘09, ‘10, the pathway providers were, if you like, the unwelcome tenants in the stately home of the university. We had to be suffered because we did something for them. Now, the relationship has totally moved. It’s almost as if they roll out the red carpet for the pathway providers” (C-suite)

    The far more conservative strategy would have been to lean into the university’s core capabilities – teaching and admissions – and scale this up over time. Yet that is precisely what my respondents said ‘conservative’ university leaders were unwilling to do: they did not believe the university could manage overseas recruitment by themselves. As argued by former Warwick VC Nigel Thrift, this timidity is not unique to the recruitment of international students, but also extends to their engagement with government agencies. University management by and large “has done as it has been told. It hasn’t exactly rolled over and played dead, but sometimes it can feel as though it is dangerously close to Stockholm Syndrome” (Thrift, 2025, p3).

    Ambiguous stands on international fees have deepened the current crises

    There is no law in England that compels universities to charge high international students fees. By setting them as high as possible and rapidly increasing the intake of international students, universities de facto offset and thus obfuscated the havoc that changing funding regimes wreaked on university finances. This has contributed to what Kings’ Vice Chancellor Shitij Kapur calls the ‘triangle of sadness’ between domestic students, universities, and the government.

    Had universities chosen to stand in solidarity with their international students by aligning their fees more closely to the fees of home students, then the subsequent crises in funding would have forced universities to either spend less money, or make it clearer to the wider public that more funding was needed, before building up the dependencies and subsequent vulnerabilities to intake fluctuations that are currently on full display. These vulnerabilities were exacerbated by overoptimistic growth plans, and university leadership not always fully understanding the added costs that came with such growth. In an example of this delayed realisation, one Pro-Vice-Chancellor explained to me what it felt like to partner with a private foundation pathway:

    “At the time you are signing up for these things, there is euphoria around because they are going to deliver against this business plan, which is showing hundreds of students coming in. International student is very buoyant, you sign up for a 35-year deal. So, everything is rosy. If you then just take a step back and think ‘so what am I exposing the university to?’  …  because in year seven, eight, ten, fifteen whatever, it can all go pear-shaped, and you are left then with the legacy building.” (Pro-Vice-Chancellor)

    By seeing fee setting as a practice, that is, something universities do to their own students rather than something that is inflicted by external (market or government) powers, we make visible its ideological nature and implications. The longer history of international fees in Brittan was thus an important site of ideological co-option; it was a critical juncture at which universities could have related in a more solidaric manner towards their students.

    Unwillingness to cooperate on increased student acquisition costs

    You might, at this stage, be wondering: what was the alternative? The answer is in recognising the structure of the market for what it is: efficiently recruiting and training a large number of international students requires some degree of cooperation between universities. My research, however, suggests that universities have often been unwilling to cooperate because they see each other chiefly as competitors. This competition is highly unequal given the advantage conferred to prestigious universities located in internationally well-known cities.

    The irony is that many universities nevertheless end up – perhaps unwittingly – cooperating by partnering with one of the few private companies that offer international foundation programmes. These private providers can only reach economies of scale because they partner with multiple universities at the same time. One executive explains how carrying a portfolio of universities for agents to offer their clients is precisely what gives them a competitive advantage:

    “The importance of the pathways to the agents is that they carry a portfolio of universities, and the ambition is that you have some which are very well-ranked and academically quite difficult to get into. And, you try and have a bottom-feeder or two, which is relatively easy to get into academically. The agent is then able to talk to its clients and say, look, I can get offers into these universities. Some of them are at the very top. If you are not good enough there, then you might get one in the middle and I’ve always got my insurance offer for you. […] what the pathways do is that they provide a portfolio that makes that easier.” (Private Executive)

    A public consortium with pooled resources and that isn’t shy about strategically coordinating student flows would have functioned just as well, and the Northern Consortium is living proof of this. The consortium in fact inspired Study Group to get into the pathway business themselves. The limited growth of the Consortium, relative to its private rivals, is equally proof of missed chances and wasted opportunities.

    Could the gerbil eat the lion?

    Private providers can use and have used these practices of inaction to pit universities against each other, over time resulting in lower entry requirements and higher recruitment costs. In this climate, public alternatives such as in-house programmes struggle to survive. Once invited in, pathway companies are also well positioned to expand their business with their partner universities in other ways, deepening their dependence. As one senior executive told me:

    “Our aspiration is to say that the heart of what we are is a good partner to universities. They trust us. […] for some of our core partners, we bring in a lot of revenue. And, that then puts us in a really good position to think about the other services that we can add of value.” (Private Executive)

    The economic downside of relying on these ‘good’ partners is the expensive and volatile market dynamics that follow. As long as universities are trapped by the notion that they are chiefly competitors best served by outsourcing capabilities to sales-oriented firms and leaving international students to pick up the bill, there is limited hope for any genuine inter-university collaboration and innovation. This limits the public potential for scaling an economically viable and resilient market in the long-run.  As a sector, HE has the know-how, experience, capital, and repute to do this. It’s just about getting on with it!

    Morten Hansen is a Lecturer in Digital Economy and Innovation Education at the Department of Digital Humanities, King’s College London.

    Author: SRHE News Blog

    An international learned society, concerned with supporting research and researchers into Higher Education

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