SRHE Blog

The Society for Research into Higher Education

Tag Archives: Ghana


by Leave a comment

When assessment goes local, who keeps what students bring back?

by Carlene Kyeremeh

A student sent me a photograph of a handwritten waybill. Dated November 2022, it records a unit price for printed sachet film. It also carries the names of a supplier and a customer and the given name of the person who issued it. The waybill appeared in a term paper on fiscal consolidation as evidence of a cost increase that no statistical series I have found records.

It is in my files. Not the department’s. Mine.

I describe the waybill here but do not reproduce it, identify those named, or give the figure it records. The students who wrote the paper agreed to this account. I have no record that the supplier, the customer or the person named agreed to the document’s retention or wider use, so I have minimised the identifying detail, including the price, which is the most commercially sensitive thing on the page.

I have argued elsewhere that the curriculum can help to thicken a thin documentary record. Ask each student to obtain one item of locally sourced evidence: an interview, a quoted price, a document from a firm or public office, and, over successive cohorts, a course can assemble material that no database previously held. This is no longer only my ambition. Programmes are already redesigning assessment in response to generative AI, and one attractive move is to require evidence a model cannot retrieve: a price obtained in a market, an interview conducted locally, a document held by a firm or public office. That redesign brings third-party material into course files at scale, often without a parallel decision about what should happen to it after assessment.

That is the promise. The waybill in my files is the problem that follows it.

What universities already know how to govern

Research ethics and commercial confidentiality are not routinely ignored in student work. Professionally oriented programmes have long had to decide what an organisation may disclose, who may see it and when it must be returned. For example, McMaster University’s course-based research guidance explicitly covers undergraduate, MBA and graduate courses. The University of Toronto provides both a course-based ethics route and a classroom confidentiality agreement for third-party proprietary information. In the UK, the University of Manchester’s ethics guidance asks researchers to establish first whether an activity is research training conducted as coursework, described as collecting and analysing a small amount of data to gain experience in method, or research proper. These arrangements show that collection, consent, confidentiality and use within a defined project can be governed. My argument is therefore not that universities lack such protections. It begins where a normal project would end.

The problem begins when the course ends

If material is returned, destroyed or retained only with the assessed work, its lifecycle has a clear end. But the design I am proposing depends on the evidence outliving the assignment. A document collected by one student in 2026 should be available to another cohort in 2028 or 2029, alongside prices, interviews and documents gathered in the intervening years. The course is not only assessing students. It is building a local source collection.

That changes the questions. What exactly does the university hold after the assessment period? Who is its custodian? How long may it be retained? May another cohort consult it? What fresh permission is needed if it is later used for research or publication? These procedures can help answer those questions, but not automatically. An agreement that properly confines information to one course may rule out the very reuse on which the proposed archive depends.

The evidence is not the assignment

The student’s analysis is coursework. The material used to produce it is not necessarily the same thing. A waybill may contain personal or commercially sensitive information. Interview notes are harder still: they are neither the source’s own record nor the student’s analysis, but one person’s written account of what another person said, made for an assignment and now held by a lecturer.

Where the activity is classified as teaching rather than research, this third-party material can still raise a lifecycle question: do institutional rules cover its custody, retention and reuse after the assessment for which it was collected? The Manchester distinction is instructive here. A course collection built to outlive its cohorts is not a small amount of data gathered to practise a method, but neither does it fit neatly within research as that definition intends. It is a lifecycle problem created by a particular curricular ambition.

The reuse is the point

Ghana’s Data Protection Act, 2012 (Act 843) requires personal data to be collected for a specific, explicitly defined and lawful purpose, limits retention and requires further processing to be compatible with the original purpose. Material obtained for one student’s term paper and later made available to another cohort may involve further processing. Nothing in the waybill I received establishes permission for it to become part of a standing course collection.

The Act contains provisions for historical, statistical and research uses where the relevant conditions are met. Those provisions offer a governed route, not a retrospective blank cheque. They do not turn a lecturer’s folder into an institutional archive. The underlying principle is not unique to Ghana: UK guidance likewise treats purpose, storage and research-related reuse as connected but distinct questions.

Ordinary assignment governance is adequate for ordinary assignments. The problem appears when coursework is asked to do something additional: to enlarge a locally available documentary record over time.

The archival value and the governance risk arise from the same feature. An archive that cannot be consulted next year is not an archive. A collection that can be consulted next year without the source having been told is not a defensible one.

A small institutional answer

The answer need not be a new bureaucracy. It could begin with a short institutional instrument that separates use in a student’s assessment from retention in a course source collection. Before collection begins, it should state the teaching purpose, what may be collected, who may later consult it, how long it will be kept, which unit is responsible and what choices the source has. Research use or publication should require a separate decision rather than being hidden inside the phrase ‘educational purposes’.

The remaining requirement is custody. What one lecturer can require, only an institution can keep. A named custodian, controlled access, a retention and disposal schedule, and a record of what the course has produced would convert a personal folder into an accountable institutional practice. Existing MBA, ethics and confidentiality processes provide models; the task is to extend their discipline to the intended afterlife of the evidence.

Proportionality matters. If the process becomes heavier than the assessment it supports, colleagues may stop asking students to gather local evidence. But a department unable to provide a clear collection notice, a retention rule and somebody accountable for what returns should not require the fieldwork. Otherwise, institutional risk is transferred to students and to the businesses that agree to speak with them.

Readers can test this in ten minutes. Take your own institution’s course-based ethics route or classroom confidentiality agreement and look for two things: whether either says anything about third-party material after the assessment period, and who is named as responsible for it. If neither appears, ask where else the institution governs the evidence after the assignment ends. If there is no answer, the arrangements may govern the assignment without governing its evidentiary afterlife.

Before we ask for more

The curriculum can enlarge the archive. The qualification is that the archival ambition creates an additional governance obligation. The question is not only whether the evidence was collected ethically and kept confidentially. It is whether its intended custody, retention and reuse were made explicit before collection began.

I have a waybill in my files and no good institutional answer to those questions. That is not an argument against asking students to go and find out. It is an argument for deciding what we will do with what comes back, before we ask them to go.

Dr Carlene Kyeremeh is Associate Professor and Vice President, University Advancement, Recruitment and Research at All Nations University, Koforidua, Ghana. Her research addresses curriculum decolonisation, higher education policy in Africa and the Caribbean, and the political economy of educational technology.This post develops a governance question raised in Issues 14 and 15 of The Decolonized Curriculum, her LinkedIn newsletter.


by 2 Comments

A narrator Is not a witness: what AI got right — and wrong — across three Ghanaian MBA classrooms

by Carlene Kyeremeh

It was late, and I was building slides on fiscal policy for a class of twenty, most of whom had never taken economics before. I asked an AI tool for a worked example of expansionary policy — something concrete enough to anchor the mechanism. It answered in seconds: a government cuts taxes and raises infrastructure spending; roads get built; contractors hire; demand rises. Clean. Usable. American. The mechanism travelled, but the roads were interstate highways, and the government spending the money was not one my students would ever petition. The example had arrived so quickly, and so confidently, that I nearly pasted it in. For a moment, convenience almost became curriculum.

Then, in the same session, the same tool did something I could not have done as well alone. I asked it to scaffold the vocabulary — a glossary that assumed nothing and met students who did not yet have the words. It was patient in a way I am not always patient at that hour. It found analogies; it sequenced the terms so that each rested on the one before. That slide was better for the machine’s help.

Within a single sitting, the tool had lowered the barrier for my students and quietly imported the exact default my work exists to help people notice. Across three MBA courses this term, I began to see the same pattern: the tool improved many aspects of how I prepared to teach, and became least dependable where the teaching required local knowledge, current evidence or an institution named correctly. The help landed on form. The failures landed on specificity.

In my international trade finance course, I extend a running case — Adom Naturals Ltd, a Kumasi agribusiness I built so that trade finance stops being abstract and acquires a location, a product and a currency exposure. I asked the tool to situate the firm against current conditions: what the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA) changes for a business like this, and where COCOBOD now sits in the picture. It answered in assured paragraphs and told the familiar story: Ghana grows some of the world’s finest cocoa, ships much of it out with limited processing, and watches the greater share of value accrue downstream. Fluent, orderly, and a season out of date.

The confident narrator

It missed what I happened to be holding in a government source that week: in February 2026, Cabinet directed that, from the 2026/27 crop season, a minimum of 50 per cent of Ghana’s cocoa beans should be processed locally. For Adom Naturals, that reform changes the opportunity set. Cocoa liquor, butter, cake and other processed products can retain more value within Ghana and may qualify for preferential treatment in African markets where the relevant AfCFTA rules of origin and tariff requirements are satisfied. The tool had narrated the extractive arrangement in the present tense and missed the policy intended to change it.

Nothing marked the claim as stale. The tool warns that it can make mistakes, in a line printed beneath every answer, but a caveat attached equally to everything is not calibration; it is the absence of it, dressed as candour. A colleague says: I am sure of this; check me on that. The tool says it might be wrong about anything, then says everything in the same even voice. The danger was never that it made mistakes. Every source makes mistakes. The danger was that it sounded exactly as certain when it was wrong as when it was right.

The wrong institution

Financial regulation showed me the problem from another angle. Ask a general-purpose tool about capital adequacy, disclosure or market conduct and it is fluent, because the published record is thick with Basel standards, US and UK regimes, and decades of commentary. Ask it to route the same questions through Ghana’s regulatory architecture and the fluency thins.

When I asked which body supervises an insurer in Ghana, and then which oversees a securities offering, it reached both times, confidently, for the Bank of Ghana. The answer was plausible because the central bank is prominent in Ghana’s financial system. It was nevertheless wrong. Insurance supervision belongs to the National Insurance Commission under the Insurance Act, 2021; securities-market regulation belongs to the Securities and Exchange Commission under the Securities Industry Act, 2016, as amended. When I named the specific commissions, the tool corrected itself at once. The information was retrievable; it was not the default.

Three defaults, one voice

Set the three moments side by side and a more complicated pattern emerges. The fiscal-policy example exposed a geographical default; the cocoa case, a temporal one; and the regulation case, an institutional one. These were different failures, but they arrived in the same confident voice.

I cannot inspect the tool’s training archive, so I cannot attribute every error to missing data alone. A stale policy claim may reflect a knowledge cut-off or the absence of live search. A regulatory error may reflect weak retrieval, poor weighting or the greater prominence of a general institution over a specialised one. What I can observe is an asymmetry of retrieval: general and North Atlantic formulations arrived unprompted, while Ghanaian specificity had to be named, sourced and verified into view.

That asymmetry belongs in the larger conversation about AI and epistemic justice — about whose knowledge is dense enough, accessible enough and prominent enough to be retrieved fluently, and whose is thin enough to be flattened, displaced or missed. The tool did not invent the hierarchy of whose knowledge counts. It inherited a record shaped by that hierarchy and can reproduce it at scale, in fluent prose. Better models may reduce some errors, but model improvement alone cannot repair knowledge that remains absent, inaccessible or systematically underrepresented.

I develop that argument more formally elsewhere, in work currently under review. Here, I want only to report what it looks like from inside three classrooms, at the point where defaults become examples and examples become curriculum.

Verification is the work

I use these tools daily and they earn their place, so let me be honest about the difficulty. The answer is not refusal; refusing the help is not a decolonial act, only less help. The answer is the discipline I have argued for all along, now turned on the machine: no sentence enters the curriculum until it points to a source I can hold. Verification is not the friction that slows the tool down. With a tool like this, verification is the work.

I have also begun turning that work into a learning activity. I place selected AI outputs beside the relevant primary or institutional sources and ask students to identify what the model has generalised, dated or assigned to the wrong body. Verification becomes not only my quality-control procedure but part of the curriculum itself.

Perhaps that is the graduate skill this moment now asks for. Not simply how to find information, the tool is generous with information, but how to test information whose presentation gives no sign whether it has earned our trust. The scarce skill is no longer retrieval. It is discernment. Teaching has always required two kinds of expertise: explaining ideas well, and knowing where they belong. The tool is becoming remarkably good at the first; the second is still ours. It narrates beautifully — but a narrator is not a witness, and decolonising the curriculum now includes learning to interrogate the archive that speaks back.

If your tool has ever been confidently wrong about your own institution, your own regulator or your own country’s data, I would like to know what it got wrong — and whether a student would have caught it.

Dr Carlene Kyeremeh is an Associate Professor and Vice President, University Advancement, Recruitment & Research, at All Nations University, Ghana, where she teaches managerial economics and international trade and finance on the MBA programme. Her research examines decolonial curriculum reform, gender equity and academic mobility in African higher education, with the African Continental Free Trade Area as a recurring empirical anchor. She is currently researching the reintegration of diaspora-return faculty in Ghanaian universities. She writes The Decolonized Curriculum, a newsletter on curriculum decolonisation in African higher education. 

LinkedIn [https://www.linkedin.com/build-relation/newsletter-follow?entityUrn=7412983304175534080]

Author’s note: This article is adapted and substantially expanded from Issue 13 of The Decolonized Curriculum.


by Leave a comment

Effect of Institutional Autonomy on Academic Freedom in Higher Education Institutions in Ghana

By Mohammed Bashiru and Professor Cai Yonghong

Introduction

The idea of institutional autonomy in higher education institutions (HEIs) naturally comes up when discussing academic freedom. These two ideas are connected, and the simplest way to define how they relate to one another is that they are intertwined through several procedures and agreements that link people, institutions, the state, and civil society. Academic freedom and institutional autonomy cannot be compared, but they also cannot be separated and the loss of one diminishes the other. Protecting academic freedom and institutional autonomy is viewed by academics as a crucial requirement for a successful HEI. For instance, institutional autonomy and academic freedom are widely acknowledged as essential for the optimization of university operations in most African nations.

How does institutional autonomy influence academic freedom in higher education institutions in Ghana?

In some countries, universities have been subject to government control, with appointments and administrative positions influenced by political interests, leading to violations of academic autonomy and freedom. Autonomy is a crucial element in safeguarding academic freedom, which requires universities to uphold the academic freedom of their community and for the state to respect the right to science of the broader community. Universities offer the necessary space for the exercise of academic freedom, and thus, institutional autonomy is necessary for its preservation. The violation of institutional autonomy undermines not only academic freedom but also the pillars of self-governance, tenure, and individual rights and freedoms of academics and students. Universities should be self-governed by an academic community to uphold academic freedom, which allows for unrestricted advancement of scientific knowledge through critical thinking, without external limitations.

How does corporate governance affect the relationship between institutional autonomy and academic freedom?

Corporate governance mechanisms, such as board diversity, board independence, transparency, and accountability, can ensure that the interests of various stakeholders, including students, faculty, and the government, are represented and balanced. The incorporation of corporate governance into academia introduces a set of values and priorities that can restrict the traditional autonomy and academic freedom that define a self-governing profession. This growing tension has led to concerns about the erosion of academia’s self-governance, with calls for policies that safeguard academic independence and uphold the values of intellectual freedom and collaboration that are foundational to higher education institutions. Nonetheless, promoting efficient corporate governance, higher education institutions can help safeguard academic freedom and institutional autonomy, despite external pressures.

Is there a significant difference between the perceptions of males and females regarding institutional autonomy, academic freedom, and their relationship?

The appointment process for university staff varies across countries, but it is essential that non-academic factors such as gender, ethnicity, or interests do not influence the selection of qualified individuals who are necessary for the institution’s quality. Unfortunately, studies indicate that women are often underrepresented in leadership positions and decision-making processes related to academic freedom and institutional autonomy. This underrepresentation can perpetuate biases and lead to a lack of diversity in decision-making. One solution to address these disparities is to examine gender as a factor of difference to identify areas for improvement and promote gender equality in decision-making processes. By promoting diversity and inclusivity, academic institutions can create a more equitable environment that protects institutional autonomy and promotes academic freedom for everyone, regardless of their gender.

Methodology and Conceptual framework

The quantitative and predictive nature of the investigation necessitated the use of an explanatory research design. Because it enabled the us to establish a clear causal relationship between the exogenous and endogenous latent variables, the explanatory study design was chosen. The simple random sample technique was utilised to collect data from an online survey administered to 128 academicians from chosen Ghanaian universities.

The conceptual framework, explaining the interrelationships among the constructs in the context of the study is presented. The formulation of the conceptual model was influenced by the nature of proposed research questions backed by the supporting theories purported in the context of the study.

Conclusions and Implications

Institutional autonomy significantly predicts academic freedom at a strong level within higher education institutions in Ghana. Corporate governance can restrict academic freedom when its directed to yield immediate financial or marketable benefits but in this study it plays a key role in transmitting the effect of institutional autonomy. Additionally, there is a significant difference in perception between females and males concerning the institutional autonomy – academic freedom predictive relationship. Practically, higher education institutions, particularly in Ghana, should strive to maintain a level of autonomy while also ensuring that academic freedom is respected and protected. This can be achieved through decentralized governance structures that allow for greater participation of academics in decision-making processes. Institutions should actively engage stakeholders, including academics, in discussions and decisions related to institutional autonomy and academic freedom. This will ensure that diverse perspectives are considered in policy development.

This blog is based on an article published in Policy Reviews in Higher Education (online 02 January 2025) https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/23322969.2024.2444609

Bashiru Mohammed is a final year PhD student at the faculty of Education, Beijing Normal University. He also holds Masters in Higher education and students’ affairs from the same university. His research interest includes School management and administration, TVET education and skills development.

Professor Cai Yonghong is a professor at Faculty of Education, Beijing Normal University. She has published many articles and presided over several domestic and international educational projects and written several government consultant reports. Her research interest includes teacher innovation, teacher expertise, teacher’s salary, and school management.

References

AAU, (2001). ‘Declaration on the African University in the Third Millennium’.

Akpan, K. P., & Amadi, G. (2017). University autonomy and academic freedom in Nigeria: A theoretical overview. International Journal of Academic Research and Development,

Altbach, P. G. (2001). Academic freedom: International realities and challenges. Higher Education,

Aslam, S., & Joshith, V. (2019). Higher Education Commission of India Act 2018: A Critical Analysis of the Policy in the Context of Institutional Autonomy.

Becker, J. M., Cheah, J. H., Gholamzade, R., Ringle, C. M., & Sarstedt, M. (2023). PLS-SEM’s most wanted guidance.

Hair, J., Hollingsworth, C. L., Randolph, A. B., & Chong, A. Y. L. (2017). An updated and expanded
assessment of PLS-SEM in information systems research. Industrial management & data
systems,

Lippa, R. A. (2005). Gender, nature, and nurture. Routledge.

Lock, I., & Seele, P. (2016). CSR governance and departmental organization: A typology of best practices. Corporate Governance: The International Journal of Business in Society.

Neave, G. (2005). The supermarketed university: Reform, vision and ambiguity in British higher education. Perspectives:.

Nicol, D. (1972) Academic Freedom and Social Responsibility: The Tasks of Universities in a Changing World, Stephen Kertesz (Ed), Notre Dame, University of Notre Dame Press.

Nokkala, T., & Bacevic, J. (2014). University autonomy, agenda setting and the construction of agency: The case of the European university association in the European higher education area..

Olsen, J. P. (2007). The institutional dynamics of the European university Springer Netherlands.

Tricker, R. I. (2015). Corporate governance: Principles, policies, and practices. Oxford University Press, USA.

Zikmund, W.G., Babin, B.J., Carr, J.C. & Griffin, M. (2012). Business Research Methods. Boston: Cengage Learning.

Zulu, C (2016) ‘Gender equity and equality in higher education leadership: What’s social justice and substantive equality got to do with it?’ A paper presented at the inaugural lecture, North West University, South Africa