Tilting at Windmills,
Sliding Down
Snakes and Generally Having a Good Time
Mary O’Kane
The editors of this journal have asked
me to write about what it was like to be in a senior academic position and
then to leave it suddenly. Mmm, well…
I have a passionate belief about Australian higher education and research institutions. I believe Australia should make the very best out of its investment in these organisations. I believe that a knowledge-rich society is essential for the social and economic well-being of our country. Like many others, I would like to see more public investment in higher education but it is hard to see what areas of public spending could be cut to provide it. And there seems to be little enthusiasm for raising taxes.
So if our universities are going to maintain excellent standards and improve still further, given that current levels of public expenditure on higher education are unlikely to increase, then universities have to face up to significant internal reform at the system-wide level and at an institution level. As Vice-Chancellor of one of Australia’s research-intensive universities, I worked very hard to achieve and enable such reform. As did several other vice-chancellors.
But many others who work in the high Australian higher education believe, just as passionately, that with the current levels of public investment and with the trend in working conditions perceived as getting ever worse, the situation is so hopeless that moves towards voluntary reform on behalf on the part of the universities are only staving off the inevitable collapse. This group, and they probably represent the vast majority of Australian academics, believe that too much is asked of them already and that it is better to let the system go downhill until the government has no choice but to intervene.
I knew that I had been working against a majority view but pushed on with reforms for several years. There were good times but, bluntly, it was exhausting and dispiriting. It was becoming increasingly clear to me that I was working against an increasing wall of resistance. Eventually (the details are confidential and to a large extent irrelevant), I decided that tilting at this particular windmill wasn’t going to work, and resigned. Some other reformist vice-chancellors also left the system last year. I chose to go more quickly and publicly than most thus gaining a chance to talk about the system and its woes.
So what does this mean for women in senior academic jobs? Or, for that matter, anyone in a senior academic job? Probably the most obvious issue is that reform is a risky and dangerous business unless there is a strong willingness on part of the community to engage in such reform. And, yes, possibly the form of opposition to what I was trying to do had a nasty edge because I was a woman and a relatively young woman for the role.
But hey that’s life. And I’ve had a fortunate and very exciting life. Maybe what happened at Adelaide University was best captured symbolically by Anna Platten, a very talented South Australian artist, who painted the official portrait of me as Vice-Chancellor. She depicted me standing in my office – with the University snake (a beautiful water python or rainbow serpent) gliding over the floor at my feet. Life can be a bit like the game of Snakes and Ladders. Sometimes we find ourselves at the foot of a magnificent ladder. But we must be ready to slide down a snake.
Professor Emeritus Mary O’Kane was Vice-Chancellor of Adelaide University from 1996 until August, 2001.
A researcher and inventor in the field of automatic speech recognition, she was awarded the Australian Telecommunications and Electronics Research Board (ATERB) Medal in 1990 for her work in this field and the Queensland Science Tall Poppy Award in 2001.
Professor O'Kane is a member of the Board of the CSIRO and CEO of a business advising governments and the private sector on innovation, research and education. She is a Fellow of the Academy of Technological Sciences and Engineering and a Fellow of the Institution of Engineers, Australia.