Plus ca change

In my remarks earlier this week to the academic orientation gathering of first-year students, I observed that much had changed at Carleton since I took my first course here in the summer of 1968.  I was referring primarily to the physical appearance of the campus, with its multiple new buildings, but the statement is also true of what we actually do in those structures.  In 1968, there were separate Faculties of Arts and of Social Sciences, and the notion of a Faculty of Public Affairs was still decades away.  There were departments and institutes which today no longer exist, and others which have subsequently been regrouped into “schools”; and many subjects currently featured in the curriculum were not yet on offer.  No one had yet heard of the concept of “co-op” programs, nor indeed of tutorial groups led by teaching assistants. There were very few services for students, nor were there many public spaces for them to congregate.  Mirroring the experience of our current students, my undergraduate years were punctuated by the arrival of some new buildings, including the Dunton Tower (then called the Arts Tower, reflecting the programs that it housed) and the University Centre, the latter boasting what was likely to have been one of the first unisex washrooms in the country, located on the second floor.  (I wonder what became of that?)  One of the main gathering places for students was the Loeb Lounge, then always crowded, but now almost always deserted.  It was memorable as the place where I learned to play bridge, and I keep wondering when Physical Plant will put up the commemorative plaque!  And the space under the Residence Commons, now called the Oasis, was another popular spot to idle away leisure hours, and in those days had no doors, so that it was accessible, and indeed used, 24/7 … although no one knew that expression then.  The one thing at Carleton that has changed the least, as I told the students, was the tunnel system … although I don’t remember it being so overheated in those days.  But in that regard perhaps the tunnels are the same and I am the one who has changed, feeling the temperature more acutely with the onset of senectitude.

As a student of Heraclitus I do understand that change is inevitable, and I don’t oppose it per se.  Much change is good and to be embraced, although I occasionally worry when changes are proposed – or worse, imposed – on the basis of faulty reasoning, or for what I believe are deceptive motives.  And on such occasions it is important to speak up, and have one’s voice heard, if only to generate some discussion.  It is rare that any one individual possesses all the information needed to fully understand any issue, which is why scholars work collaboratively in tackling major questions.  Lines of communication, and a culture of healthy debate, are vital … and it is that aspect of academic life that is perhaps most at risk and most worthy of being conserved as we move forward.  Change is coming to the university system, not only in Ontario but across the globe, and that is fine.  Universities have survived for almost a millennium because they have managed to re-invent themselves while simultaneously nurturing certain basic principles and beliefs.  I have no doubt that we shall continue to do so.  But it won’t happen if we withdraw from the discussion, or blindly hold to some notion that change is wrong.

There is an old joke, which like many successful bits of humour contains a kernel of wry truth.  “How many professors does it take to change a light-bulb?”  “Change???”  This is surprising given that every single one of us is attempting to change our understanding of the physical and/or human world, whether it be the physicists on campus working in collaboration with CERN, or medieval historians like me who are striving for better knowledge of what happened in the distant past.  Changing the status quo is what academics do; it sits at the core of our being; it is what gets us out of bed every morning.  And sometimes we control the pace of that change, and sometimes we don’t.

In the coming months our institution will again experience change, and this may be driven in large part by the provincial government, which has almost total control on our finances.  And we shall have a choice.  We can embrace the process, and work with it, ensuring that our core values are protected as much as possible; or we can become ostriches, bury our heads in the proverbial sand, and refuse to play any constructive role in the forthcoming discussions. To be blunt, the status quo is not financially sustainable, for either the province or the university, and we do need to find a new funding model.  But the solution is far from being obvious.

How many FASS professors will it take to change the Carleton light-bulb?  Well, I hope the answer will turn out to be a number greater than 300.  We all need to get involved in this process, for it is our future, and more importantly the future of our students, of our society, and of scholarship broadly conceived that will be at stake.  Not only is this game one that we must play, but it is also one that we can’t afford to lose.