Glimpses of the real university crisis
October 30, 2012, 12:00 pm
, The Island
Professor G. H. Peiris
Three months of agonising
wait is finally over for tens of thousands of youth in the higher
strata of our educational system, now that the so-called ‘university
crisis’ is deemed to have ended, and our dons have decided to resume
their routine duties. Many among them would like us to know that had it
not been for their patriotic zeal they would have left Sri Lanka to
sell their brains in far more lucrative markets. Mighty decent of them.
In
fairness to this fraternity I should say that it has seldom resorted
to politically confrontational trade union action, and, until a few
weeks back, never took to the streets to win their demands. This time
around, they mobilised considerable public support for their cause,
mainly by misrepresenting their case and camouflaging their objective.
They appear to have been so persuasive that even some of the sternest
critics of higher education including those of the media did not (as
far as I am aware) really challenge the legitimacy of the FUTA
agitation for higher salaries, leave alone its other demands and claims
relating to imperilled free education, inadequacy of government
spending on education, university autonomy, and the brain-drain.
The
FUTA strike, however, did produce a vibrant public discussion that
extended over some of these demands and claims. Among the contributions
by the university staff to the discussion (some of which vividly but
unintentionally illustrated the crux of the real crisis in higher
education) there were the attempts to present the university teachers’
perspectives on issues such as the loss of scholarly talents due to low
salaries, how enhanced university grants could be used for elevating
the quality of higher education (Jayadeva Uyangoda in The Island of 3
October 2012), and why politicians should not interfere in university
affairs. There were, in addition, the more focused inputs by
intellectuals outside the university system which undoubtedly enriched
the quality of the discussion. Those among them that were particularly
useful were the commentary on the ‘Trade Union Action by FUTA’ by
Jayantha Dhanapala and Savitri Goonesekere (The Island, 8 October
2012), and Usvatte-aratchi’s clarification titled ‘Expenditure on
Education’ (Sunday Island, 14 October 2010). The frequent references by
the FUTA to large numbers of unfilled cadre vacancies in the
universities, presumably as evidence of the inability of the
universities to attract suitably qualified persons to their staff, were
placed in proper perspective by Rajiva Wijesinha (The Island, 10
October 2012) whose data indicated that, at least in some of the
faculties and departments of study he has specifically referred to, the
need of the hour is retrenchment rather than recruitment. And, had the
FUTA heeded the advice given by Erik de Silva fairly early in the
proceedings (The Island of 13 September 2012) it could have avoided
persisting with the blunder of demanding an increase of government
expenditure on education to 6% of the GDP.
It is in the hope
that this discussion will continue and reach greater depths, as it
surely must, and also be free of personalised vested interests
including those of electoral politics, that the present paper is being
written. I am conscious of the possibility that its contents will not
please my former colleagues some of whom I hold in high esteem. I fully
agree with Rajiva Wijesinha’s demonstration (referred to above) that,
in most matters, it would be unfair to generalise on the university
teaching community. Since I expect to venture into some of the less
well known features of our university system, I should, in addition,
make it clear that the paper is based very largely on my intimate
association with the University of Peradeniya for well over half a
century. My interactions with the other universities in Sri Lanka have
been confined throughout to informal contact with a few members of
their staff and a few of their graduates – mostly those in the Social
Sciences.
Government Funding of Education
It
is, indeed, quite amazing that spokespersons of the community
representing the highest levels of educational attainment in Sri Lanka
in which graduates in Economics probably outnumber those with advanced
qualifications in any other academic discipline have continued to
persist with the patently absurd demand that the government should
allocate 6% of the Gross Domestic Product – note that the phrase
"equivalent to 6% of the GDP" was never used by the FUTA leaders in
their oral or written representations. Certain persons outside the
university system, extending qualified sympathy to the FUTA cause
(‘Arthika Vishleshaka’ of The Nation of 14 October 2012 comes to mind
as an example), with intentions, no doubt, of protecting the university
teachers from public ridicule, have explained to us that what is
really being demanded is a much needed change in the government
spending priorities which should involve, among other things, a higher
level of resource allocation to education. In yet another display of
ingenuity, the Editor of The Nation suggested that the "6%" is a
brilliantly conceived slogan – symbolically, a resounding ‘No’ to the
rampant corruption and lawlessness in the ranks of the government. And
then, there was this fig-leaf titled ‘Six percent of GDP on education:
From fantasy to reality’ (The Island of 17 October 2012) by Sumanasiri
Liyanage according to whose rationalisation, FUTA’s demand could be
considered meaningful "if it is linked with such far-reaching changes
in the prevailing economic system" – that is to say, a socialist
revolution, he being a Marxist and that kind of thing. In the picture
adorning this article (obviously not Liyanage’s) we see this delightful
little kid leading the procession of the "Saviours of State Education"
from Moratuwa, carrying the "6%" banner, and wearing a red T-shirt
embellished with yet another banner, the ‘Stars and Stripes’. It seemed
as if the picture was depicting unseen things that were really
happening? I now prefer to think of it as one of many displays of
insensitivity – like the salary demand.
The plain fact is
that the "6% demand" was nothing other than a blunder kept alive
through cupidity by those of the university community who should have
known better (I am glad that Liyanage has exonerated a small group of
Economists of the University of Colombo from this charge). This is not
to deny that it attracted support ? it did, from a whole array of
disparate forces that see the university system as the Achilles Heel of
this powerful regime.
It was finally left for
Usvatte-aratchi, our expert on Public Finance and aficionado of
Education, to educate the public on the difference between the GDP and
Government Expenditure, and to show that the latter was equivalent to
only about 21 % of the former in 2011, an year during which the
government expenditure on various fields of formal education was about
9% of its total expenditure (1.8% of the GDP). In simple arithmetic
based on 2011 values, in order to ensure an educational expenditure
equivalent to 6% of the GDP (without an increase in private expenditure
on education) it would have been necessary for the government to raise
its financial input to education from 9% to about 29%. Such a scenario
would have meant a drastic curtailments of expenditure on other things
the government is required to do such as debt servicing, payment of
salaries to its employees, and capital expenditure (which, in 2011,
accounted for 25%, 17% and 48%, respectively, of the total government
expenditure).
Milton Rajaratne, the ‘Management’ expert from
Peradeniya, attempted (Sunday Times, 7 October 2012) to show how the
government, with sound management of the economy, could meet the "6%
demand". Having prefaced his thesis with an unfortunate falsehood that
the allocation of "6% of GDP for Education was advocated by the
government itself", he argued in more reasonable vein that what the
government needs to do in order to meet this demand is to: (a)
eliminate waste, (b) re-prioritise expenditure, and (c) improve tax
collection. Yes, there could be no serious disagreement on these
necessities.
There is, in fact, a great deal of almost
criminal waste associated, not so much with incompetence, but with the
"boast of heraldry and pomp of power" which we see at all levels of
government activity including the universities. Here is a little story
to illustrate what I say. A few years ago the authorities of the
University of Peradeniya, acting on instructions of the UGC, set about
the task of formulating a long-term plan for its development. Having
gathered information for this purpose from various sections of the
university (but not, apparently, setting plan targets), what do they do?
They (a fairly large group consisting mostly of academic staff)
shifted their planning venue to luxury hotels ? over a spell at
Ahungalle, and thereafter at Kandalama. Is this the way to set about
planning for a university which cramps 4 students to a room in its
Halls of Residence? Is this not the same mindset that makes the
President of the country take an entourage of some 160 (the number
reported in the media) to New York in order to address the UN General
Assembly which, as everyone knows, is a massive yawn of a ceremony? The
world over, it is not only the kings and queens who squander
tax-payers’ money for personal joy and splendour. That apart, it is
also relevant to note that even if all our leaders were to suddenly
embrace a Gandhian way of life, the resulting saving will make up only a
tiny fraction of the "6%" the FUTA demands. There are ways in which
far more substantial savings – not only of money but far more important
things ? could be achieved, the most urgently necessary among which is
the abrogation of the Provincial Council system foisted on us
whimsically by the government of India to cater to its own needs. It
didn’t solve any, but created many problems. But that is a different
subject.
There could, I think, be no serious dispute on the
need advocated by Rajaratne for certain changes in the government’s
spending priorities, although the view that the prevailing focus on
socio-economic infrastructure represents a misplaced priority is
debatable. What I think Prof. Rajaratne has meant when he says
"reprioritise expenditure" is merely that government should spend more
than it does on Education. OK, we agree.
Improving tax
collection? The ‘Rajaratne formula’ could be summarised as follows. The
2011 "tax revenue" (not confined to income tax) was 12.4% of the GDP.
If it could be raised to 16.9% of the GDP, the government will (he
says) have at its disposal an additional Rs. 272 billion which, if spent
on Education, will make the total educational expenditure of the
government approximate 6% of the GDP. It requires expertise (which I do
not possess) to consider whether the Rajaratne proposal is feasible.
No expert, as far as I am aware, has hitherto commented on it. But
assuming it is worthy of serious consideration, I have a better idea.
Why not introduce into our system of taxation an ‘Educational
Tax’(involving, inter alia, the extraction of a flat 10% of income from
those with annual incomes of over Rs. 600,000, without any exemption
from the usual income tax, but with a P.A.Y.E. system designed to
minimise evasion), the entire revenue from which would be channelled to
educational development. Needless to stress, the university teachers,
all of whom are within the highest 10% of income-earners of the country
even now, and are so totally committed to educational development,
will gladly contribute to this tax.
There have been many people in support of my mother’s cause and I
am both humbled and strengthened by it. Those who stand with us today, I
feel, stand not just for my mother. They stand for the independence of
the judiciary and a democratic society. My mother believes in this
country and it’s people. She has been a citizen of this proud country
for 54 years and have dedicated almost 32 years in various capacities
for this country. The country has not betrayed her. It’s people have not
betrayed her. Those who govern have betrayed the country it governs and the people who elected them.
