The Inaugural George Swinburne Memorial Lecture

Advanced Education: Still Advancing?

Delivered on 30 October 1984

Leslie Kilmartin, M.A., Ph.D, M.A.Ps.S. Dean Faculty of Arts Swinburne Institute of Technology GEORGE SWINBURNE MEMORIAL LECTURE This is the first of an annual lecture series instituted in honour of Swinburne's founder, the Hon. George Swinburne (1861-1928.) Mr Swinburne was a prominent Australian citizen who made major and diverse contributions to public life in the first quarter of this century. In the view of his biographer, however, the establishment of the college which now bears his name is "perhaps the most clean cut illustration of his genius". It is intended that this lecture series should pay tribute to George Swinburne's vision, by offering a public forum in which Swinburne teaching staff can display and discuss their contributions to advanced education, both to the Swinburne community and to the community at large. As an educational institution, Swinburne stands as testimony to the educational and social philosophy of its founder, the Hon. George Swinburne. Though markedly different from and advanced on his original concept, the present institution preserves the germ of his vision. In this lecture, I want to address the topic of the future of advanced education, a concept of which he could never have heard, but a development I am confident he would have applauded. Before tackling that tough question, however, I would like to tell you something about our founder, gleaned from my reading of several contemporary and recent sources. 1 Make no mistake: George Swinburne left his mark on the life of this State and even the nation. At the time of his most active public life - roughly the first quarter of this century - there were many other influential people whose names are still well known today. Consider for example, John Monash, Daniel Mannix, Tommy Bent, Robert Gordon Menzies, John Wren, David Syme, to name but a few. Swinburne knew them all and they knew him. Like them, he can be considered to have reflected the social, political and cultural landscape of that era and to have shaped aspeCts of our own. Who was George Swinburne and what do we know of him? He was born in 1861 in a suburb of Newcastle, England, called "Paradise". He later professed not "to be any more saintly, however, than those who first saw daylight in Bedlam". He left school at 13 years of age and completed an apprenticeship. Early on, the young George displayed a business acumen that was to last a life-time. In fact, in the view of one correspondent who interviewed him in his last year, he was "one of the few engineers born with a shrewd business sense". He also displayed an early interest in politics being elected in 1886 at the age of 25, to South Saint Pancras in London. His involvement in English politics was short-lived, however. In the very year of his election success, he left for Australia, arriving in November. He came, originally for a short stay, to assist his uncle in the firm of John Coates and Company. His task was to secure contracts for erecting gas plants. Later, his business interests diversified into hydraulics and other areas of engineering. In a short time, he had become a man of considerable substance. An indication of this is his home "Shenton" - in --- which he lived from 1892 and bought in 1896 - in Kinkora Avenue, Hawthorn, within walking distance of this campus. George Swinburne epitomised what the German sociologist, Max Weber, a direct contemporary, termed "the Protestant Ethic". This is that set of values - necessary for the development of capitalism - which endorses personal commitment to vocation, self-control, hard work, achievement motivation, communal service, and rationality. George Swinburne displayed all of these traits in great measure. Of particular interest to us was his communal service and his public life. He was first elected to Hawthorn Council in 1898, becoming mayor in 1902. His capabilities, however, were so outstanding that he ran for and was elected to the Legislative Assembly in 1904. In that same year, he was appointed Minister of Water Supply in the unfortunately named Bent government. He sometimes served as Acting Premier and Treasurer during the absence of the Premier and was clearly relied upon by the vulgar, opportunistic and unscrupulous leader, both for his economic and administrative skills as well as his acknowledged dignity, probity and popularity. As early as 1904, a contemporary observer writing in Melbourne Punch predicted that he would one day be Premier and Treasurer. He eventually resigned from the government in 1913, howev~r, after a dispute with the Premier. Bent's offer to stand aside for Swinburne to assume leadership held no appeal for him. It is generally agreed that Swinburne's greatest contribution as a minister was his development of the Water Act of 1905, which proposed a system of irrigation for the State that became a national and even international model. He may be regarded as the father of the State Rivers and Water Supply Commission. In many ways, George Swinburne was a reluctant politician, more interested in community service than in the exercise of power. It has been asserted that he did not seek politics, but was sought by politics. Before entering political life, he had referred to the Victorian parliament as "our gas bags up the street". Since gas was his business, we must accept his view as authoritative. He made a brief return to political life in 1928, the year of his death. In winning office, he effected a handsome victory over the young Robert Gordon Menzies for the upper house seat of Yarra. He died quietly in the chamber on 4 September. A most mild-mannered and uncontroversial figure, George Swinburne was involved in two memorable and, indeed celebrated, controversies. Both may be seen as deriving from challenges to deeply held personal values. The first controversy occurred during the State election campaign of 1907. With devout Methodist conviction, Swinburne had forcefully opposed liquor and gambling in Victoria and had inspired legislation to control both. Powerful forces united against him and cast him as a "wowser". Foremost among his adversaries were the breweries and the formidable, if young, John Wren. In George Swinburne's view, Wren was among the worst elements of the community. The conflict between the two men reached its peak on the night before the election. The scene was the Hawthorn Town Hall, a few hundred metres from here, where Wren and a large number of supporters arrived from Collingwood to disrupt the meeting. They succeeded. I quote from Swinburne's biographer. The 'visitors' were organised; a man with a voice like a megaphone gave the signals from a seat near the front and made a speech by Swinburne impossible. Wren marched up to the platform and a chair was placed for him; he took notes of Swinburne's speech so far as it was audible and was prepared to answer it. Unfortunately for him however his supporters would not allow Swinburne to utter two consecutive sentences. He was mercilessly heckled, but he managed to repeat his opinion of Wren as a menace to the moral health of society. Then Wren wanted to speak, but the Chairman warned him that it was Swinburne's meeting. Wren claimed that he had the right to ask questions, and embarked on a long introduction. The meeting was too excited to hear the questions or wait for the answers. A large number of burly men, quite unlike the genteel inhabitants of Hawthorn, were working themselves up the hall, led by a man of pugilistic build and aspect. Each question and answer was drowned by the roar from the various partisans. Wren flourished a cheque which he said was for 500 pounds and was to challenge a proposition which he attributed to Swinburne. Wren's question had lengthened into a speech and the Chairman again warned --

him; he replied: "If I cannot make this speech there will be trouble". At this the Chairman spoke to a policeman and at once the crowd rushed the platform. The press tables were sent flying, and as the men from the hall tried to mount the platform Swinburne's supporters from their point of vantage thrust them back. The meeting broke up in complete disorder. Fortunately the casualties were slight. This particular incident is also recorded in fictionalised form by Frank Hardy in Chapter 6 of Power without Glory, where Swinburne is identified as "Sir George Swinton". In the event, Swinburne was returned to office. The second controversy was the famous libel case against the Age. During 1908, the Melbourne Age ran a campaign in its pages suggesting that George Swinburne had been guilty of improper conduct as Minister in the awarding of contracts for irrigation projects. The Labor Party launched a censure motion against him which was easily defeated. Swinburne's sense of fair play had been violated. He therefore initiated legal proceedings against David Syme and Co. and endured the rigours of cross examination to clear his name. As is widely known, he won this case and was awarded 3250 pounds, with costs. The Age took the case to two higher courts but was defeated each time. And, as you all will be waiting to hear, George Swinburne used his award to set up on this site the "Eastern Suburbs Technical College" later known as "Swinburne Technical College". It is a nice story - but it isn't true. The case was settled some time after the College had opened. Probably, very little of the Age money came to the College. Swinburne's non-parliamentary public life was one of distinction. Upon leaving the State parliament in 1913, he was appointed by the Prime Minister as one of the three members of the Inter-State Commission. The Commission was concerned with the trade and commerce of the country. Though it lasted only one 7-year term, it was intended by the framers of the Federal Constitution to occupy a position of unique authority in the Commonwealth. Another of George Swinburne's significant roles was as a member of the Advisory Council of the body which is now known as the CSIRO. In 1916, he was one of 29 people who attended the inaugural meeting of the Council, opened with a stirring speech by Prime Minister Hughes. Swinburne, we are told, "must have annoyed the university professors present very considerably". Both he and J. M. Higgins indicated their belief that the universities were primarily teaching bodies and were not fitted for applied research. My sense of occasion forbids me commenting on the contemporary relevance of that view! Of course, it is George Swinburne's contribution to education which concerns us most tonight. In this field, as in others, his interests were wide, reflecting his commitment to social progress and personal development. He served for a lengthy period (1908-1913 and 1918-1928) on the Council of the University of Melbourne and was instrumental in the setting up of Chairs in Agriculture and Veterinary Science. Though himself a thoroughly urban man, he saw that national development depended in large part on rural development which, in turn, would grow out of proper agricultural education. At the conclusion of his period in government, he accepted a seat on the Council of Public Instruction, a body which brought together people concerned with all phases of education. His great contribution, however, was to technical education. As one of his essays recalls, he did not favour narrow technical education and, indeed, had no patience with the view that the aim of technical education was to make the student a better money getter. No, technical education should make the student a better citizen and therefore must be allied with cultural education. Moreover, education was the key to most of the problems of Australian democracy and a vehicle for social and personal mobility. So convinced was he of the national value of technical education that he proposed compulsory attendance for those at technical and trade schools up to 17 years of age. In his view, "progress comes from improving the individual, not merely from changing institutions". As to education as a tool of social and personal change, he argued: While the capital of the high skilled workman lies in his special skill, the low skilled workman has nothing but the --

general qualities to secure for him a permanent economic value, and it is therefore an arguable paradox, that the State should take even more pains to secure the developed intelligence of its low skilled workers than of its high skilled. Swinburne's development of the College which now bears his name is, in the words of his biographer, "Perhaps the most clean cut illustration of his genius". It is, indeed, the only tertiary institution in Australia which is named in honour of its founder. Established as the Eastern Suburbs Technical College, the name was changed by the Council while Swinburne was absent overseas in 1912. Furthermore, it is the only college ever to have been set up through, and with, the financial backing of municipal councils. Through Swinburne's organising skills and personal financial support, the foundation stone of the original (now the Administration) building was laid by the Premier on 19 September 1908. Then, in February the following year, the College was opened. In all, George Swinburne probably donated in excess of 20,000 pounds to the College, representing approximately one million dollars in current value. In 1908, Swinburne became the first President of the Council, thus putting his mouth where his money was. I feel that I have now related sufficient information for-you to feel that you know George Swinburne a little better. There's much more to be said about the man, but for that I suggest you read his official biography. I want to turn instead to relate a most extraordinary experience I had last month during the Open Day. I suppose that having read so much about Swinburne for tonight's lecture, George Swinburne, you might say, was very much on my mind. In fact, so preoccupied was I with thoughts of yesteryear, that I almost knocked over an elderly gentleman as I entered the Ethel Swinburne Building clutching a lunch voucher to pick up my sandwich. I must have been totally engrossed with my thoughts as the old fellow appeared out of nowhere! I gasped, partly surprised by having walked into anyone at all and partly surprised by the particular person. I had collided with a walking beanpole. He must have been 6'6" tall, but certainly no more than 67 kilos - that's 1 01,1:! stone for those of you over 17 years of age. I stammered out an apology, but he insisted on begging my pardon. He smiled broadly and readily so that I knew he had taken no offence. I was struck immediately by the boyishness of such an elderly man. He appeared like a boy whom time ridiculously endeavours to date by having painted his hair white. As immediate past Chairman of the Open Day Committee, I felt obliged to assist him as he appeared to be lost. "May I help you?" I enquired. And it began to occur to me that this old fellow looked rather familiar. "Perhaps" said he, "I'm looking for the Girls' School." "Well, you're in the right spot." I declared proud of my memory for trivia - I'd read only a day earlier that the Girls' School had in fact occupied the site on the corner of John Street and Burwood Road. "But you're some decades too late. This is now the Ethel." "The what?" I wasn't sure why but I felt I'd committed a slight indiscretion. "The Ethel Swinburne Building," I replied, "named after George Swinburne's wife. Ugly isn't it? It's a hot day, let me buy you a cool drink." We repaired to a quiet corner of the student caf and he explained to me that he was returning to the College after a long absence. He had meant to attend an Open Day in the year of the 75th Anniversary, but had miscalculated the year. .. So, here he was, a year late. He still looked farttiliar and I was about to introduce myself in the hope that he would offer his name when finally, the penny farthing dropped. I was dumbfounded. Of course I recognised him. I'd seen various photographs and there was also that bust in the Council Chamber. I'd spent hours staring at that expressionless visage during interminable meetings, often imagining its subject was winking knowingly at me. "You're George Swinburne!" I declared. He beamed. "Tell me, Mr Swinburne, have you had a good look around?" "Oh, my word, I have," and I sensed that he wanted to say a "'---~~. I

great deal more, but he didn't know where to start. Perhaps, he was overwhelmed by the advanced technology he had seen, or by moving pictures, or by the height of some of the buildings, by the size of the campus. Or just its ugliness. "So, what do you think?" I enquired. "Well," he began, "with all these buildings and resources, it seems that the days of public apathy toward education that plagued me over half a century ago have gone. In those days, it was a fact that the majority of the people didn't seem to care about education. The ideals of Australians used to be mostly material. It's encouraging to see that situation has changed." I swallowed a guffaw, not wishing to appear cynical to such a likeable old chap. "Tell me," I said changing the topic, "were you able to spend as much time in the College as you had wished?" "No, I came here as often as I could, but I used to describe my involvement as 'a selfish hobby." A selfish hobby. From a 1984 perspective, that sounded like a euphemism for a tax evasion scheme, but I took him at his face value, understanding him to mean that he was an amateur dabbling in a philanthropic way in a field which he loved. "I do have one question" he continued. "What is this business called 'advanced education' that I've seen referred to so often today? You see, I like to draw the analogy between education and a house. The foundations are the schools and the roof is the university. Technical education is the walls of my educational house - though very flimsy walls they were in my day. Where would you put 'advanced education' in this I ittle house analogy?" He smiled innocently suggesting he knew he'd bowled me a curly one. I now understood what one of his biographers meant in saying that there was always in him something of the eternal boy.' I fixed my gaze on infinity and began to draw my breath over clenched teeth. As l.uck would have it, I happened to have tucked in my left sock a copy of a statement entitled 'The Functions of Colleges of Advanced Education in Australia' prepared in July 1982 as a joint statement by the Directors of the Central Institutes of Technology and the Australian Conference of Principals of Colleges of Advanced Education. You'll understand that I feel more secure somehow if I always have it in easy reach. I turned triumphantly to page 2 and read as follows: Colleges of advanced education are community service organisations of a particular kind, whose most important objectives relate to identifying relevant community needs through close interaction with the community. He seemed to smile approvingly. Still, who wouldn't? "The document goes on," I pointed out, "to identify teaching, applied research and development, and community service as the particular functions of 'advanced education'. Does that make things clearer?" I asked. "Perhaps," he ventured, considering carefully what he had heard. Eventually he volunteered "These must be extraordinarily well-endowed institutions, these colleges of advanced education, to do so much. In my day, it was the universities that undertook teaching and we set up the CSIR to do applied research and development. It looks as though the colleges have superseded the other institutions." "Oh no," I laughed, "we still have universities and the CSIRO as well." "Oh, I see." Now he looked very confused. "Well, it would be interesting to know what the differences between colleges and universities are. But I must press on." He stood up. "There are a couple of displays I still want to see. One is a short film about me made in 1982 by the students of the Film and Television School and set to Gilbert and Sullivan. I am quite a fan of Gilbert and Sullivan. The other is the towing tank in the MacPherson Building. I understand it featured in a rather humorous play set in the College. Good day." And he walked out of my life as abruptly as he'd entered it. But, true to his character so clearly recalled by those who knew him, he'd left me with plenty to reflect upon. Firstly, what is advanced education? Is it advancing? If not, why not? I want to focus tonight on three broad areas which affect the progress of advanced education. Moreover, I shall argue that they affect the progress of all higher education. They relate to structures, attitudes, and practices. - -~------

First, structures. Various attempts have been made to distinguish between the two arms of higher education in Australia: the colleges and the universities. This is the famous binary structure of higher education, or what the Vice Chancellor of the University of Wollongong Dr Ken McKinnon2 referred to recently as a "major national educational blunder". To extend George Swinburne's analogy, there is no longer one educational house in Australia. There are two. The university is the roof of one and the college is the roof of the other. The binary structure is the first obstacle to the advancement of advanced education. As Dr McKinnon argues: The binary system put technology and applied studies in an inferior position to other studies and was against common sense and national needs. Advocates of the binary structure - the advocates are often based in the universities - have poured countless hours into the task of drawing neat lines of demarcation. Such great minds might have contributed more by addressing themselves to important issues. By arid large, of course, the binary system is not a reflection of different institutional missions; there are many more similarities than differences between the raisons d'etre of the two sectors. No, the binary system is primarily about unequal allocation of resources between the sectors and its advocates are the advocates of perpetuating this sectoral inequality. The elaborately embellished rationalisations of the status quo are pure sophistry transparently based on self-interest. Let us consider some facts. To begin with, there are more students being educated in the advanced education sector than in the university sector. In 1983, the advanced education sector had 51.6 per cent of all higher education students. This year, advanced education enrolled 61.7 per cent of new students entering higher education. 3 In their recent study of participation in Australian post secondary education, Anderson and Vervoorn4 show that "CAE enrolments have grown at a faster rate than those of universities in the same period (1975-81) and continue to do so". But college students are students whom the government can . educate on the cheap. There are fewer teaching staff in colleges than universities, they teach more hours per week and more weeks per year. In the years I have been involved in higher education in universities and colleges, I've never heard a half-way plausible educational justification for this state of affairs. To continue, universities get more generous recurrent, equipment, and capital grants than colleges. Recurrent grants to colleges in Australia in the forthcoming triennium (1985/7) will not exceed 40 per cent of the total while equipment grants will be one-third. 5 Recall that colleges carry over half the students. The libraries in each sector are budgeted for differently, too. In 1983, the monograph holdings at universities were probably around two to three times as extensive as those at colleges. I do not imagine our students read less or are slower readers than university students. There is relatively little funding for research in colleges either through recurrent grants or through the Australian Research Grants Scheme. In fact, the ARCS Report on Grants Approved for 1983 shows that of the $19.25 million dollars distributed~ only 2.6 per cent went to college academics. Not surprisingly, there wasn't a single college academic among the 22 committee members who allocated the funds. The colleges have fewer research assistants available to academics and have poorer provision for study leave than their university counterparts. Indefensibly, there is a vast gulf between the two sectors in the level of provision for student activities and recreation. The list goes on. But I repeat: there is no sound basis for preserving this distinction. Earlier this year, the Australian Committee of Directors and Principals in Advanced Education prepared a most thoughtful paper which argued for the abandonment of the Commonwealth Tertiary Education Commission and for the setting up of a Higher Education Commission not consisting of the sector councils now comprising the CTEC. We may hope for some serious consideration of this proposal. One hopes that a fairer basis for funding Australian higher education would be one of the benefits of such a re-organisation, but I won't be holding my breath. When two of the major parties involved - the government and the universities - are on such a good thing, they will be inclined to stick to it. The solution, however, is not to carve up the education resource cake differently. Th~ fact is the education cake needs to be enlarged. Recently, Don Aitkin, 6 Professor of Political Science at the Australian National University, warned of the costs of neglecting higher education and research for the future development of Australia. He argues that "An educated society is a confident society, prepared to deal with its problems and equipped to do so". George Swinburne and I endorse this sentiment. It is not a new idea, but it's one that politicians constantly neglect. Aitkin warns that~Australia's capacity to cope with the scientific and technological challenges of the future is growing daily more doubtful. The second area of obstacles to the progress of advanced education is in the domain of attitudes. One glaring example is what I refer to as the "Invisible College Effect" (ICE). It consists of the widespread failure to properly acknowledge the existence of the advanced education sector. It is widely prevalent among university academics, secondary school teachers, the media and elsewhere. We saw an example earlier with Professor Aitkin's otherwise excellent article on funding. Why such a distinguished and thoughtful academic should limit his comments to universities and overlook the pressing needs for funding in colleges, I cannot guess. Apart from treating colleagues in colleges shabbily, he greatly weakens the moral force of his argument. The amazing fact about the Invisible College Effect is that it persists despite the size and importance of the advanced education sector. I invite you to watch for ICE and I guarantee you'll see it. Then, I hope, you'll join my campaign to "melt the ICE". A further area of concern with attitudes is that of apathy. As I haye already indicated, George Swinburne was worried over half a century ago by the apathetic attitude of Australians towards education. "He was", according to his biographer, "disturbed by the attitude of many Australians who felt they had achieved a satisfactory position or standard of life without education; they seemed to him to undervalue it and fail to appreciate its claims on them." In his essay on technical education, outlining its benefits and its ability to promote self-improvement; he asks with some apparent frustration: "Where are the deputations of the people who go to a government and demand such betterment as I have described." Despite a dramatic increase in the level of education of Australians, public indifference and even hostility toward higher education remain a national calamity. This apathy is so endemic that no-one can be even bothered to measure it! I have searched in vain for studies of attitudes of Australians toward higher education. It is widely held among the higher education community that there is in Australia a "deeply ingrained anti-intellectualism", as it was expressed by the Australian Committee of Directors and Principals. Public apathy has, naturally, been of concern to both this committee and the Australian Vice-Chancellors' Committee. The latter recently asked the University of Sydney's Sample Survey Centre to advise on the extent of the problem. Unfortunately, as the Director of that Centre, Dr Terry Seed acknowledges, no-one knows what the general public think of universities. In a short article on that topic, Dr Seed 7 proposed that "It is time the universities embarked on a serious program of repetitive surveys to monitor national public opinion." Dr Seed proposes, in effect, an evaluation of the public relations activities of the universities. It is his belief that "a favourably disposed public, broadly aware of the universities' achievements, may well be the last line of defence against increasingly savage government funding cuts for teaching and research." Did you note, incidentally, the 'Invisible College Effect' from Dr Seed? Isn't the problem equally urgent for the colleges?

Now, assuming the Vice-Chancellors' Committee goes to such great lengths to establish a public opinion monitor, one can only hope they will have the good sense, not to mention the courtesy, to incorporate the advanced education sector to at least convey the impression that there are common concerns between the two sectors.

In the meantime, we must conclude that public apathy continues to be one of the greatest obstacles to the progress of both our sectors, and one of the nation's besetting sins. Many of us had hoped that the Hawke Government, having mouthed many pious hopes for higher education and research, would actually lead Australian public opinion rather than follow it in this vital matter. Sadly, this has not been so. Somewhere in the complex interplay betwee11 the general public and the politicians are the media. As far as higher education is concerned, the role of the media can be dealt with as briefly as I have dealt with general public opinion, which, apparently, it reflects. The electronic media, with a few exceptions, go about their business as though higher education took place on some other planet. Unless, of course, there is a student demonstration, a teacher strike, a 'boffin' to be quoted on some outrageous idea, or a sex or drug scandal. Sections of the print media perform marginally better, but probably because they value the income from academic advertising. In recent years, both the Australian and the Age have developed higher education supplements, and, while these are welcome, they are but pale imitations of their counterparts in other western countries. I see a marvellous doctoral thesis waiting to be completed on public attitudes toward higher education in Australia. Of course, it won't be done in a college of advanced education, not because it couldn't be, but because colleges are not permitted to hslVe Ph.D. programs. The third obstacle to the advancement of advanced education is in the area of practices, or the way we carry out advanced education. George Swinburne regarded his involvement in education as that of an amateur. It was for him a "selfish hobby". While educational benefactors, including lay members of college and university councils, are necessarily amateurs with respect to education, I believe the scourge of amateurism hangs over us in a more serious form. To allay the fears of some, to squash the hopes of others, and so not to embarrass the rest, should say that I am not about to launch an attack on professionalism among academics. No, I believe that honest and competent academics are already well aware of the prevalence of poor standards of teaching. They agonize about it privately and with each other, often. The pity of the matter is that they are, by and large, incapable of rectifying the situation. But, let me assure you, it is constantly on the agenda of problems being addressed. I want to discuss amateurism in higher education at another level - that of its management. And I want you to understand that I regard myself as an educational manager - a Dean, a Director, a Head of Department can hardly fail to be cast in that role. My experience of becoming a manager is probably identical with that of every other dean, director, head of department, in this country: namely, it is assumed that because you are a reasonably intelligent person, you therefore will make a good administrator/manager. This is an absurd notion. It ranks in stupidity with the notion that because a person has a higher degree, he or she will make a good teacher in a higher education institution. Of course, just as most of us untrained teachers end up more or less teaching, so most of us untrained managers end up more or less managing. It ought to be obvious to anyone that this state of affairs in the management and administration of higher education is quite unacceptable. Consider the fact that the combined budget for advanced education and universities for 1985 will be close to two billion dollars. Surely it is reasonable to expect that these scarce resources will be managed responsibly? But management is not only concerned with balancing the books and reading budget print-outs. There is much more. As in any other sector of organisational life, management involves staff counselling, industrial relations, rule making and implementing, morale boosting, arbitration, ad\(ocacy, the exercise of authority, planning and so on. Surely these are areas where skills can be and must be acquired. Now, such skills can, of course, be acquired on the job. But there are three problems with this view. First, it is a slow and sometimes costly way to learn. Second, perhaps skills won't be learnt as well as they could be. Third, it would be rather ironic (and fateful!) for us as educators to argue that on-the-job training is superior to classroom instruction. My plea for better management in education will very likely fall on deaf ears. Most of us already in management positions will probably deny the need for it, at least in our own case. Politicians and funding authorities will regard it as a waste of scarce resources, for it will inevitably cost money. Such a view would be a curious one. After all, the government, the Commonwealth Tertiary Education Commission, and the Victorian Post Secondary Education Commission all subscribe to the idea of management education. That, presumably, is why they paid for the Ralph and Wilkinson reports on that topic. That, presumably, is why they endorsed the setting up of two grand and prestigious centres for management education, one at the University of New South Wales, the other at Melbourne University. That, presumably, is why they continue to support and promote management education, M.B.A. programs, and graduate diplomas in management throughout this nation. Indeed, that, presumably, is why such programs are on a wave of unprecedented prestige and prevalence. Well, if management education is good enough for the private sector, for business concerns, then why not for public concerns, especially education? Of course, many large public enterprises already engage in management training. The Staff Colleges of the defence forces, which have programs of up to one year, come to mind. There are others. However, to the best of my knowledge there are none for tertiary academic managers. And although probably most colleges and universities have management or business or administration schools, not one offers management training for college and university academics. I have referred to what I expect would be lukewarm support among academics for such training. Many who have been socialised on now anachronistic views of the academy regard management with considerable contempt. Even sceptical academics, however, prefer good management to poor from government, banks, building societies, publishers, book shops, libraries and, in fact, everyone who serves them. There seems to be no obvious reason why higher education could not and should not be better managed. Academics also fear the encroachment of sordid commercialism into the sanctuary of the academy. I share their concerns for educational ideals and I am not proposing that an M.B.A. be a prerequisite for academic promotion. In fact, it is quite clear that existing management courses are quite unsuitable for academic managers. This does not mean, however, that management is inimical to education. I believe the time is now overdue for a review of this situation. It may be that we need a centre along the lines of Coombe Lodge in England. Perhaps some other arrangement would be more appropriate. I do not profess to know the answer. However, I simply cannot believe that gr~ater attention to management skills would fail to improve the quality of colleges and universities as educational institutions. While I'm talking of topics which are fashionable in many places, but not in higher education, let me introduce another and related bete nair - planning. Or to be even more provocative - strategic planning. To many academics, strategic planning is a highly value-laden phrase with self-evidently despicable aims either akin to attempting to control the weather (the sin of interfering in the natural order) or reminiscent of what happens in the board room of some voracious and exploitative multi-national company. And it is. But it is also what any large contemporary organisation must engage in. In fact, does engage in. It is surely a mark of human beings that they consciously attempt to choose desired future states of affairs, that they act as creators of futures rather than as the passive victims of external forces. Homo sapiens (the wise species) is ipso facto Homo prospiciens (the planning species). There are, of course, some well-founded arguments against academic planning. One is that by the time the Federal Government has specified the budgetary resources, and the Commonwealth Tertiary Education Commission