Surprising Response To Suspended Programs

Since last March’s provincial budget delivered a 7% cut to Alberta’s postsecondary institutions, there have been many announcements of program suspensions at a number of schools.  Most recently, the Faculty of Arts of the University of Alberta announced plans to suspend 20 programs because of their low enrollment, making the front page of today’s Edmonton Journal.

Given the size of the budget cuts, and the fact that they took the postsecondary sector apparently without warning, the most recent announcement from the University of Alberta is not really surprising.  While the government of Alberta has declared that it will not balance its budget on the backs of students, the simple fact is that cuts to postsecondary funding will necessarily impact students, by reducing access to services, by increasing class sizes, by eliminating instructors, and by removing programs.  This is simply because the core purpose of these institutions is to educate students. The Edmonton Journal article simply provides a snapshot of each of these implications as they take shape in one faculty in one university (e.g. eliminating course sections, cutting funding for graduate student teaching assistantships, eliminating faculty positions, and of course suspending programs).  Of course, similar stories have been unfolding throughout the province in recent months.

These Faculty of Arts cuts themselves are not surprising.  However, what has surprised me a great deal is that this recent news has touched a nerve, at least in terms of activity on Twitter that uses the hashtag #abpse.  I have been following this thread for many months, and over the last few days two things have become apparent.  First, there has been an explosion of the number of tweets that use this hashtag.  Second, these tweets are coming from individuals who to my knowledge are new to this discussion.

I am not sure why the recent University of Alberta news has produced such a strong response.  Perhaps with the new term approaching, more students are paying attention to current events on campus.  Perhaps the response is because this announcement is from such a large Faculty at such a large institution.  At any rate, I believe that the reaction to the Arts news is healthy and important.

A close reading of the Edmonton Journal article also surprised me, and tweaked a growing concern.  Dean of Arts Lesley Cormack is quoted as follows: “It’s important to recognize that this is good management of programs as much as it is anything to do with budgets,” Cormack said Sunday. “It’s unfortunate that it’s had to happen as quickly as it has. But the problem is, if you do it slowly, it sort of never happens.”  Of course, it is quite sensible that programs be regularly evaluated, and possibly removed if they are no longer serving their intended needs.  However, Thomas Lukaszuk, minister of Enterprise and Advanced Education, gives the sense that ‘program evaluation’ is essentially simple economics.  According the Edmonton Journal, the Minister’s position is that “students vote with their tuition dollars and have sent a strong message to university administration”.  In short, the Minister apparently believes that the worth of a program is revealed by the number of students it attracts.

In my mind, the Minister’s position is disturbing and simplistic (but perhaps not completely surprising!).  Just because a program attracts a small number of students does not mean that it is not important.  A broader perspective than just numbers is required to properly evaluate a program’s importance.

 A look at 20^th century history provides a good example of this.  At the start of WW II, pure mathematicians were few and far between (it is a complex and abstract field that does not attract multitudes of students!), and largely ignored by British and American military leaders.  However, when finally called upon by their governments, pure mathematicians made huge contributions to the outcome of the war; they were responsible (for instance) for cracking the German enigma code. Fortunately for all of us their programs weren’t cut because of budgetary constraints on low enrollment programs.

‘Speed Dating’ For Blue Sky Research

My previous post, “On An Unnamed Institution to Commercialize Research”, was a fairly short and skeptical piece on a proposed government initiative.  Below, inspired by some recent reading, is a more constructive take on a related issue.

A recent article in the National Post brought my attention to a new book by eminent biologist Edward O. Wilson.  Wilson’s book, Letters to a Young Scientist, made the news because of his controversial view that budding scientists do not need to acquire advanced mathematical training.  He writes, “Many of the most successful scientists in the world today are mathematically no more than semiliterate.”

Intrigued, I purchased a copy of Wilson’s book, which I thoroughly enjoyed.  Wilson’s passion for science is infectious and inspiring, even to someone like myself who has been in the business for over a quarter of a century.  With our federal government frequently accused of being engaged in a war against science, and with our provincial government making large cuts to funds for postsecondary education, inspiration is in short supply, so I am very appreciative of Wilson’s letters.  His book also provides an interesting perspective on some of the issues currently facing Alberta postsecondary education.

Consider a recent announcement by the minister of Enterprise and Advanced Education about a planned institute for commercializing research.  Apparently, one of the goals of this institute is to foster cooperation amongst researchers at different Albertan schools.  The Edmonton Journal reports, “The institute will provide a forum where academics from different campus can come together. Currently, cooperation is limited because campuses compete for research grants.”  I wonder, though, whether this is the kind of cooperation best suited to increase applied research.  Inspired by Wilson’s book, a different (and possibly less expensive) type of cooperation comes to my mind.

Wilson argues that pure mathematicians develop theorems and models that are elegant in their own right.  However, he feels that mathematicians do not ground their work in real world phenomena.  Wilson is a proponent of such grounding; he counsels young scientists to seek out mathematicians, and to provide them real-world scenarios for linking to extant mathematics.  Wilson states his ‘first principle’ about the relationship between scientists and mathematicians:  “It is far easier for scientists to acquire needed collaboration from mathematicians and statisticians than it is for mathematicians and statisticians to find scientists to make use of their equations.”

It seems to me that a modified version of Wilson’s first principle has broader scope.  Mathematics should not be singled out; a more fruitful principle would consider the relationship between pure research (often called ‘blue sky research’ in Albertan discussions) and applied research or commercialized research.  A broader principle suggests a route for connecting companies and blue sky researchers: “It is far easier for companies to acquire needed collaboration from blue sky researchers than it is for blue sky researchers to find companies to make use of their theories.” 

I do blue sky research; I am quite adept at producing pure research related to a diversity of domains.   I also sympathize with the goal of applying my work.  However, I do not believe that this is hindered because I have no other scientists to cooperate with, as is suggested by the nature of the planned institute.   Wilson’s view is that science is an individual affair.  The most innovative scientists of Wilson’s experience “prefer to take first steps alone.”  I agree.

Instead, my problem is that I am completely naïve about the nature of potential applications for my work.  I do not need other scientists.  I need companies, to inform me about their applied problems, in the hope that I might see a potential solution in the blue sky research that I already do.

How might applied problems come my way?  One model might be a think tank the Santa Fe Institute, which Wilson has experienced:  “The idea in these places is to feed and house very smart people and let them wander about, meet in small groups over coffee and croissants, and bounce ideas off each other.”  Perhaps the planned Alberta institute will be a think tank like this.

A cheaper, more efficient model does not require the creation of a think tank or an institute.  Instead, it simply involves organizing a meeting or a short convention.  I imagine a simple gathering involving a diversity of company representatives and a diversity of blue sky researchers.  For a short interval – no more than five minutes -- a company representative interacts with a researcher, seeking common ground.  The former could pitch a problem, while the latter could pitch a methodology.  When the interval is over, the process begins again involving new pairings of people.  Think of it as a kind of speed dating for blue sky research.

The diversity of those involved in this ‘speed dating’ is critical.  Imagine a company that has some sort of heavy industry pattern recognition problem to solve, and imagine further that they are seeking university researchers to help deal with it.  Perhaps they have already used the internet to identify potential candidates, possibly by scanning ‘people’ listings for various faculties and departments on the University of Alberta website.

My suspicion is that one name that they would not come up with is mine.  What could a member of a psychology department, who is furthermore in the Faculty of Arts, and whose expertise is in ‘foundations of cognitive science’ possibly have to offer them?

If they encountered me in the ‘speed dating’ scenario, then I think they would be surprised.  They would find out that I have lots of pattern recognition expertise, that I have invented a new kind of artificial neural network, that I am currently exploring the relation between probability theory and classification, that I have some expertise in robotics, that I have lots of experience with multivariate statistics, … I could put a lot in my quick ‘speed dating’ pitch!  To their surprise, they might find that an Arts psychologist has the expertise to solve their heavy duty problem.  And, of course, I would have discovered a potential application for my blue sky research, which might be commercialized using existing mechanisms at my university.

The key point to the ‘speed dating’ idea is that I am not alone.  Most of my colleagues, across the various departments and faculties at Albertan universities, have amassed large degrees of expertise that could have economic applications, provided their blue sky work were to be matched with promising applied problems.  Companies might be surprised at what they find when they explore blue sky research conducted in areas that they would ordinarily ignore.

 We – companies and blue sky researchers alike -- need to increase the likelihood that such matches occur.  We need to explore avenues that are unconventional, another message central to Wilson’s book.

When Claude Shannon provided mathematical accounts of circuits, he did not revolutionize electric engineering because he linked his work with that of other engineers.  He succeeded by connecting problems with electric circuit design to something that he learned about in his philosophy courses – Boole’s logic.  In making this strange connection, Shannon was less than conventional, and illustrated another of Wilson’s principles: “March away from the sound of the guns.  Observe the fray from a distance, and while you are at it, consider making your own fray.”

Links:

Below is a link to information about E.O. Wilson's latest book on Amazon.ca:

Wilson, Edward O. (2013) Letters To A Young Scientist. Livestrong Publishing, New York.

On An Unnamed Institute to Commercialize Research

One of the themes concerning Alberta’s reduced postsecondary funding is the need to reorganize provincial universities and colleges so that they can contribute more to the provincial economy.  The sense is that currently our institutions are too concerned with pure research and are not conducting enough applied research.  The government is using reduced funding to, in part, encourage postsecondary schools to change their priorities.

The most recent example of the government’s intent comes from Thomas Lukaszuk, minister of Enterprise and Advanced Education.  The Edmonton Journal reported his announcement that a new institute that will help colleges and universities commercialize their research in partnership with private companies and other agencies is underway.   According to the Journal, Lukaszuk said that “the institute, as yet unnamed, will be open to researchers and students from any campus in Alberta, and serve as a major vehicle for diversifying the economy. It should eventually generate a stream of royalties for campuses and businesses.”

Proper evaluation of this announcement requires more details.  In addition to having no name, there is no indication about funding for this institute, whether it will employ its own researchers, or whether it will offer degrees.  The whole idea could be good, but it could also be very, very bad.  Though lacking crucial information, I feel obliged to make a couple of pre-emptive points.  A previous post of mine, “Enterprise and Advanced Education”, considered some topics related to research commercialization that could stand some repetition.  I will just give some highlights here; for more details, please see that earlier blog entry.

First, there is a core incompatibility between the mission of publicly funded research and the mission of private, commercialized research.  The former is governed by the rule “publish or perish”; its mandate is to make its results publicly available as soon as possible.  The latter follows the rule “silence is golden”, because publishing research results poses problems for patenting discoveries.  The creators of this institute must chart a very difficult course between these opposing mandates, addressing such thorny ideas as ownership of ideas, publication of discoveries, and the like if they wish to recruit current university scientists in Alberta.

Second, there already exist channels for commercializing university research.  For example, the University of Alberta was involved in creating TEC Alberta in 2006; last year it advised hundreds of clients who generated millions of dollars in revenue.  The creators of this institute must defend the need for yet another channel for research commercialization, particularly if the government funds it handsomely.  One of the goals of the March budget’s large cut to postsecondary funding was to inspire the discovery of administrative efficiencies and the removal of redundancies.  Presumably, strong arguments that the new institute is not a move in a redundant direction are on the horizon.

 
Third, Lukaszuks’ vision of the new institute is ambitious. According to the Edmonton Journal, the minister hopes that it will evolve into something similar to the world-renowned Massachusetts Institute of Technology.”  Given this vision, one would expect that the new institute – like MIT – will grant degrees.  This raises the redundancy issue again.  If our current postsecondary model is redundant enough to warrant huge cuts in operating funds, then why is a new degree granting institute required? If this is not so, then a different problem emerges. There are prototypical examples of non-degree granting organizations that use researchers to develop new products, like Apple and Google. We do not call them institutes – we call them companies.

Enterprise And Advanced Education

The Alberta government’s ministry responsible for postsecondary education is ‘Enterprise and Advanced Education’.  Over the past few years, there has been a tremendous push to align the two concepts of ‘enterprise’ and ‘advanced education’, both provincially and federally, and both from outside postsecondary institutions and from within.  In principle, such alignment is possibly a very good idea.  In practice, however, it raises some serious concerns.  For a university researcher like me, it produces a conflict between one maxim for applied research (“silence is golden”) and another for public research (“publish or perish”).  Let me elaborate. 

The provincial government is signalling postsecondary institutions to align their research and teaching outcomes with the provincial economy.  For instance, in its 2012 Alberta Research & Innovation Plan, the ministry of Enterprise and Advanced Education notes “The alignment of Alberta Innovates corporations and Campus Alberta brings together learning, research and application, management and technical skills training, and new knowledge and commercialization, into a system that will create a culture of inquiry and entrepreneurialism. A culture that fosters the acquisition of commercial skills, financial abilities and business acumen will enable Alberta to move from a solid economy to a resilient, diversified knowledge-driven economy for future generations” (p. 6).  It is possible that other messages lay not far below quotes like this one.  There is concern that universities are under pressure to favor applied research over pure research, or to favor programs that emphasize particular career paths over others.  One case in point is a recent column in the National Post by Matt Gurney that argues that governments should only provide financial aid for students taking useful programs.

The push to align enterprise with advanced education has sharpened with recent budget cuts to postsecondary institutions and accompanying “Letters of Expectation” from the ministry.  For example, the draft letter of expectation for the University of Alberta asks that it allocate its resources “in ways that best achieve the following desired outcomes:

• Albertans are engaged in lifelong learning;
• Alberta’s workforce is skilled and productive;
• Alberta demonstrates excellence in research, innovation, and commercialization; and,
• Alberta’s economy is competitive and sustainable.”

A recent Globe & Mail column by University of Alberta Emerson Csorba argues eloquently that the last three of these outcomes appear to be strongly related to short-term economic goals.

Nonetheless, at a very general level all four of these outcomes do not appear to conflict with the university’s role of discovering new information, and disseminating its discoveries (and the methodologies used to make them) to the public and to its students.  In her “State of the University” address on February 28, 2013, Dr. Indira Samarasekera, President of the University of Alberta, pointed out that “our goal is, in fact, to do more than prepare students for particular jobs. Our goal is to give our students the knowledge and skills they need to think for themselves, to be creative and entrepreneurial, to seek solutions that others have missed … to undertake today’s work in a way that addresses tomorrow’s challenges. They must develop the very knowledge and skills that can help them diversify and be resilient—to bring all that they have to bear on whatever task they take up.”  I think that when I try to integrate my research with my teaching I am playing a part in achieving this goal.

Of course, this is not the only approach undertaken by the University of Alberta that harmonizes with the government’s desired outcomes.  In 2006, the University of Alberta and the Edmonton Economic Development Corporation launched a joint, not-for-profit, venture called TEC Edmonton.  Its general goal is to transition “science solutions into business opportunities”; TEC stands for “Technology, Entrepreneur & Commercialization”.  It is the exclusive technology transfer agent for the University of Alberta, and provides aid for U. of A. researchers and students to explore the possibility of commercializing their research.  According to TEC Edmonton’s annual report, in 2011-12 they advised 529 entrepreneurs and researchers, 70 of their clients combined to generate $73.4 million in revenue, and 28% of their clients were University of Alberta spinoffs.  Clearly, a significant amount of research commercialization goes on at the University of Alberta.

However, a university researcher faces a serious conflict because the goals of discovering and disseminating knowledge to our colleagues, our students, and the public does not align very well with the goal of transitioning science into business.

The cliché “publish or perish” governs knowledge discovery and dissemination.  An academic career faces constant evaluation, and a large part of this evaluation concerns research productivity.  To receive annual merit pay, to achieve tenure or promotion, to obtain grant funds to support future research, university researchers must publish their results.  A competitive CV requires both quantity and quality.  That is, to succeed in this business you have to publish many papers, and they have to appear in respected outlets.  I constantly remind graduate students that they are only as good as their next publication.  I do this because ‘publish or perish’ is the critical lesson to pass on to apprentice academics.

Long ago, though, I found that “publish or perish” is very bad when it comes to commercializing research.  A lot of my own research involves artificial neural networks, and these networks offer many possibilities for solving various applied classification problems.  Because of this, one of my more entrepreneurially minded colleagues set up a meeting between the two of us and a representative with the Industry Liaison Office, which was an ancestor of TEC Edmonton.  To my surprise, the ILO representative was more than a little concerned about me publishing my research in the public domain.  Indeed, I left with the strong impression that the ILO view of my job (or perhaps more correctly, the view of how my job should be conducted if I aimed to commercialize my discoveries) was completely opposite to my own view (expressed in the previous paragraph).

The reason for this was straightforward: patent law.  In Canada, a researcher has only a year to patent an invention or discovery after its public disclosure.  If more than a year passes, it is not patentable.  This means that if a researcher like me wants to commercialize research, “silence is golden”.  Published research is in the public domain, so if I publish my work – as is expected by my employers, not to mention my government granting agencies – this places severe time constraints on research commercialization.  The ILO’s solution seemed to require me to be silent about my research, and as a result I never pursued its commercialization.

 
In short, my view is that the combination of enterprise and advanced education leads to some perplexing problems for university researchers.  When I accept my salary, or when I accept government grants – public money – to conduct research, I believe that “publish or perish” is an acceptable position to be in, both in terms of lab research and course instruction.  “Silence is golden” strikes me as being contrary to the goals of a public institution.  It will be interesting to see how the combination of enterprise and advanced education proceeds in Alberta in the coming months.