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Who gets to decide what counts as knowledge? Big tech, AI, and the future of epistemic agency in higher education

by Mehreen Ashraf, Eimear Nolan, Manuel F Ramirez, Gazi Islam and Dirk Lindebaum

Walk into almost any university today, and you can be sure to encounter the topic of AI and how it affects higher education (HE). AI applications, especially large language models (LLM), have become part of everyday academic life, being used for drafting outlines, summarising readings, and even helping students to ‘think’. For some, the emergence of LLMs is a revolution that makes learning more efficient and accessible. For others, it signals something far more unsettling: a shift in how and by whom knowledge is controlled. This latter point is the focus of our new article published in Organization Studies.

At the heart of our article is a shift in what is referred to epistemic (or knowledge) governance: the way in which knowledge is created, organised, and legitimised in HE. In plain terms, epistemic governance is about who gets to decide what counts as credible, whose voices are heard, and how the rules of knowing are set. Universities have historically been central to epistemic governance through peer review, academic freedom, teaching, and the public mission of scholarship. But as AI tools become deeply embedded in teaching and research, those rules are being rewritten not by educators or policymakers, but by the companies that own the technology.

From epistemic agents to epistemic consumers

Universities, academics, and students have traditionally been epistemic agents: active producers and interpreters of knowledge. They ask questions, test ideas, and challenge assumptions. But when we rely on AI systems to generate or validate content, we risk shifting from being agents of knowledge to consumers of knowledge. Technology takes on the heavy cognitive work: it finds sources, summarises arguments, and even produces prose that sounds academic. However, this efficiency comes at the cost of profound changes in the nature of intellectual work.

Students who rely on AI to tidy up their essays, or generate references, will learn less about the process of critically evaluating sources, connecting ideas and constructing arguments, which are essential for reasoning through complex problems. Academics who let AI draft research sections, or feed decision letters and reviewer reports into AI with the request that AI produces a ‘revision strategy’, might save time but lose the slow, reflective process that leads to original thought, while undercutting their own agency in the process. And institutions that embed AI into learning systems hand part of their epistemic governance – their authority to define what knowledge is and how it is judged – to private corporations.

This is not about individual laziness; it is structural. As Shoshana Zuboff argued in The age of surveillance capitalism, digital infrastructures do not just collect information, they reorganise how we value and act upon it. When universities become dependent on tools owned by big tech, they enter an ecosystem where the incentives are commercial, not educational.

Big tech and the politics of knowing

The idea that universities might lose control of knowledge sounds abstract, but it is already visible. Jisc’s 2024 framework on AI in tertiary education warns that institutions must not ‘outsource their intellectual labour to unaccountable systems,’ yet that outsourcing is happening quietly. Many UK universities, including the University of Oxford, have signed up to corporate AI platforms to be used by staff and students alike. This, in turn, facilitates the collection of data on learning behaviours that can be fed back into proprietary models.

This data loop gives big tech enormous influence over what is known and how it is known. A company’s algorithm can shape how research is accessed, which papers surface first, or which ‘learning outcomes’ appear most efficient to achieve. That’s epistemic governance in action: the invisible scaffolding that structures knowledge behind the scenes. At the same time, it is easy to see why AI technologies appeal to universities under pressure. AI tools promise speed, standardisation, lower costs, and measurable performance, all seductive in a sector struggling with staff shortages and audit culture. But those same features risk hollowing out the human side of scholarship: interpretation, dissent, and moral reasoning. The risk is not that AI will replace academics but that it will change them, turning universities from communities of inquiry into systems of verification.

The Humboldtian ideal and why it is still relevant

The modern research university was shaped by the 19th-century thinker Wilhelm von Humboldt, who imagined higher education as a public good, a space where teaching and research were united in the pursuit of understanding. The goal was not efficiency: it was freedom. Freedom to think, to question, to fail, and to imagine differently.

That ideal has never been perfectly achieved, but it remains a vital counterweight to market-driven logics that render AI a natural way forward in HE. When HE serves as a place of critical inquiry, it nourishes democracy itself. When it becomes a service industry optimised by algorithms, it risks producing what Žižek once called ‘humans who talk like chatbots’: fluent, but shallow.

The drift toward organised immaturity

Scholars like Andreas Scherer and colleagues describe this shift as organised immaturity: a condition where sociotechnical systems prompt us to stop thinking for ourselves. While AI tools appear to liberate us from labour, what is happening is that they are actually narrowing the space for judgment and doubt.

In HE, that immaturity shows up when students skip the reading because ‘ChatGPT can summarise it’, or when lecturers rely on AI slides rather than designing lessons for their own cohort. Each act seems harmless; but collectively, they erode our epistemic agency. The more we delegate cognition to systems optimised for efficiency, the less we cultivate the messy, reflective habits that sustain democratic thinking. Immanuel Kant once defined immaturity as ‘the inability to use one’s understanding without guidance from another.’ In the age of AI, that ‘other’ may well be an algorithm trained on millions of data points, but answerable to no one.

Reclaiming epistemic agency

So how can higher education reclaim its epistemic agency? The answer lies not only in rejecting AI but also in rethinking our possible relationships with it. Universities need to treat generative tools as objects of inquiry, not an invisible infrastructure. That means embedding critical digital literacy across curricula: not simply training students to use AI responsibly, but teaching them to question how it works, whose knowledge it privileges, and whose it leaves out.

In classrooms, educators could experiment with comparative exercises: have students write an essay on their own, then analyse an AI version of the same task. What’s missing? What assumptions are built in? How were students changed when the AI wrote the essay for them and when they wrote them themselves? As the Russell Group’s 2024 AI principles note, ‘critical engagement must remain at the heart of learning.’

In research, academics too must realise that their unique perspectives, disciplinary judgement, and interpretive voices matter, perhaps now more than ever, in a system where AI’s homogenisation of knowledge looms. We need to understand that the more we subscribe to values of optimisation and efficiency as preferred ways of doing academic work, the more natural the penetration of AI into HE will unfold.

Institutionally, universities might consider building open, transparent AI systems through consortia, rather than depending entirely on proprietary tools. This isn’t just about ethics; it’s about governance and ensuring that epistemic authority remains a public, democratic responsibility.

Why this matters to you

Epistemic governance and epistemic agency may sound like abstract academic terms, but they refer to something fundamental: the ability of societies and citizens (not just ‘workers’) to think for themselves when/if universities lose control over how knowledge is created, validated and shared. When that happens, we risk not just changing education but weakening democracy. As journalist George Monbiot recently wrote, ‘you cannot speak truth to power if power controls your words.’ The same is true for HE. We cannot speak truth to power if power now writes our essays, marks our assignments, and curates our reading lists.

Mehreen Ashraf is an Assistant Professor at Cardiff Business School, Cardiff University, United Kingdom.

Eimear Nolan is an Associate Professor in International Business at Trinity Business School, Trinity College Dublin, Ireland.

Manuel F Ramirez is Lecturer in Organisation Studies at the University of Liverpool Management School, UK.

Gazi Islam is Professor of People, Organizations and Society at Grenoble Ecole de Management, France.

Dirk Lindebaum is Professor of Management and Organisation at the School of Management, University of Bath.


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Am I the Weakest Link?

by Paul Temple

Call me a sad old geezer, but I’m finding the never-ending positivity that characterises LinkedIn’s sunshine world rather wearing. To take one example, the “comment” options you’re offered after each post might run from “awesome“, through “love this,” to merely “impressive”: where is “misleading”, “time-wasting”, or “plain wrong”? Anyway, turning this negativity (my “inner snark” as a kindly colleague once put it) into a business proposition, in a way that LinkedIn’s owners (Microsoft paid $26 billion for it back in 2016) would surely understand, I’m about to pitch a rival version,  provisionally titled PissedOff – though the investors might want to focus-group that first. (Warning: if this title offends you, please stop reading at this point.) It will instead tap into the deep wells of pessimism that characterise so much of British life (though the French surely are just as good at it). The sociologists refer to this kind of thinking as “narratives of decline”, supported by Britain’s unofficial national motto, “Could be worse”.

So a typical post on my new site might be: “Dave has just been fired from the University of Hounslow – ‘I always hated the place anyway, and the VC was a complete ****er,’ he said.” “Dave, absolutely with you, mate, the place is beyond awful, surprised you stuck it as long as you did”. “Dave, you speak for all of us who have suffered at Hounslow – I got out as soon as I could. Nobody who values their integrity should think of working there”. I’m confident that the latest from PissedOff will be the first email that everyone working in higher education will open in the morning, to see who/where is getting the flak. An absolute rule of the site will be that references to “seeking new challenges” or similar euphemisms are banned: if you’ve been fired, let’s hear about it, it’s (usually) nothing to be ashamed of – be loud and proud. What you’re now going to do is make them very, very sorry…

What will then happen is that everyone with a grudge about Hounslow (and which university doesn’t have an army of grudge-bearers?) will pile in, Four Yorkshiremen-style: “You think you had a bad time, let me tell you about what happened to me…”, and pretty soon the place will be a national laughing-stock. After the VC has had a torrid meeting with the governing body, and the HR Director has been fired as a pointless gesture, there might possibly be some improvements. I’d be surprised to learn of any institutional changes as a result of another glowing LinkedIn endorsement.

LinkedIn’s Californian roots are its problem. Up to a point, and having seen it working first-hand, I am actually in favour of American-style positivity in organisations: there is a sense that if the people around you are saying “Yes, we can do this!”, then maybe the difficulties can, actually, be overcome – what the Navy calls the “Nelson Touch”. But equally, some of those difficulties may be intractable, and pretending they don’t exist won’t make them go away. If you want some actual American examples of difficulties being overcome, or not, look at George Keller’s still-excellent Academic Strategy (1983), or my own more recent reflections on it (Temple, 2018). Or my review of some honest American case studies of university leadership and – the book’s best bits – of its failures (Temple, 2020).

What these studies show is how real problems are identified and how they then might be overcome. One of the weaknesses found in too many university strategy documents is the inability to face up to problems and creating instead a make-believe world (call it LinkedIn World) where everything always goes well and everyone is enjoying themselves. The danger, of course, is that strategy documents like that will make everyone pissed off even if they hadn’t been before. I once got into trouble with the VC of a post-92 university by asking, quite innocently (no, really), about the basis of a claim in a staff recruitment ad that they were a top-ten research university (something like that, anyway: as my then-colleague David Watson drily remarked, “Another fine mess you’ve got us into”.). This was a perfectly good university, doing a fine job in supporting regional development goals, doing next-to-no research (as measured by research income), but feeling it necessary to buy into the apex research university model. They were assuming that they had to live in LinkedIn World, rather than the world they were actually in. (I’m glad to say that the VC and I eventually parted on good terms – he even bought me a beer.)

Anyway, once the IPO for PissedOff goes through, do join me for a cocktail on the deck of my yacht in Monte Carlo. But leave any whingeing about your job back in the office – I don’t want the real world intruding on my Riviera idyll, thank you very much.

Dr Paul Temple is Honorary Associate Professor in the Centre for Higher Education Studies, UCL Institute of Education.


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Private international foundation courses, and what they say about university leadership

by Morten Hansen

My research on the history of private international pathway providers and their public alternatives shows how some universities have stopped believing in themselves. Reversing this trend requires investment in their capabilities and leadership.

The idea that universities have stopped believing in themselves as institutions that can take on the challenges of the day and find solutions that are better than those developed by private rivals echoes a point recently revived by Mariana Mazzucato. Mazzucato explains how private firms often are portrayed like lions. Bold animals that make things happen. The public sector and third-sector organisations, on the contrary, are too often seen as gerbils. Timid animals that are no good at developing new and innovative solutions.

Skilled salesmen convinced some universities that private companies are better than universities at teaching and recruiting for university preparatory programmes. The inbuilt premise of this pitch is that universities are gerbils and private providers are lions. One university staff member explained what it felt like meeting such salesmen:

“The thing that sticks most in my mind is the dress. And how these people sat differently, looked differently, spoke differently, and we felt parochial. We felt like a bunch of country bumpkins against some big suits.” (University staff)

The lion-gerbil pitch worked in institutions across England because universities were stifled by three interlocking practices of inaction: outsourcing capability development; taking ambiguous stands on international tuition fees; and refusing to cooperate with other universities.

Outsourcing capability

Universities are increasingly outsourcing core aspects of their operations, such as recruiting international students. While university leadership is often characterised as conservative, my research suggest that this trope misses something critical about contemporary university leadership in English higher education. The problem with the term ‘conservative’ is that it implies that leadership is risk-averse, and comfortable projecting past power structures, practices and norms into the future. This does not correspond to historical developments and practices in the sector for international pathways.

The University of Exeter, for example, submitted incorporation documents for their limited liability partnership with INTO University Partnerships only six years after the Limited Liability Partnerships Act 2000 was passed, which marked the first time in England’s history that this legal setup was possible. They took a big leap of faith in the private sector’s ability to recruit students for them, and after doing so invested time and resources helping INTO to further develop its capability. They even invited them onto their campuses. It is hard to overstate how much these actions diverged from historical practice and thus ‘conservative’ leadership.

What was once a highly unusual thing to do, has over the last two decades thoroughly normalised—to the extent that partnering with pathways now seems unavoidable. One respondent from the private sector explained this change in the following way:

“In 2006, ‘07, ‘08, ‘09, ‘10, the pathway providers were, if you like, the unwelcome tenants in the stately home of the university. We had to be suffered because we did something for them. Now, the relationship has totally moved. It’s almost as if they roll out the red carpet for the pathway providers” (C-suite)

The far more conservative strategy would have been to lean into the university’s core capabilities – teaching and admissions – and scale this up over time. Yet that is precisely what my respondents said ‘conservative’ university leaders were unwilling to do: they did not believe the university could manage overseas recruitment by themselves. As argued by former Warwick VC Nigel Thrift, this timidity is not unique to the recruitment of international students, but also extends to their engagement with government agencies. University management by and large “has done as it has been told. It hasn’t exactly rolled over and played dead, but sometimes it can feel as though it is dangerously close to Stockholm Syndrome” (Thrift, 2025, p3).

Ambiguous stands on international fees have deepened the current crises

There is no law in England that compels universities to charge high international students fees. By setting them as high as possible and rapidly increasing the intake of international students, universities de facto offset and thus obfuscated the havoc that changing funding regimes wreaked on university finances. This has contributed to what Kings’ Vice Chancellor Shitij Kapur calls the ‘triangle of sadness’ between domestic students, universities, and the government.

Had universities chosen to stand in solidarity with their international students by aligning their fees more closely to the fees of home students, then the subsequent crises in funding would have forced universities to either spend less money, or make it clearer to the wider public that more funding was needed, before building up the dependencies and subsequent vulnerabilities to intake fluctuations that are currently on full display. These vulnerabilities were exacerbated by overoptimistic growth plans, and university leadership not always fully understanding the added costs that came with such growth. In an example of this delayed realisation, one Pro-Vice-Chancellor explained to me what it felt like to partner with a private foundation pathway:

“At the time you are signing up for these things, there is euphoria around because they are going to deliver against this business plan, which is showing hundreds of students coming in. International student is very buoyant, you sign up for a 35-year deal. So, everything is rosy. If you then just take a step back and think ‘so what am I exposing the university to?’  …  because in year seven, eight, ten, fifteen whatever, it can all go pear-shaped, and you are left then with the legacy building.” (Pro-Vice-Chancellor)

By seeing fee setting as a practice, that is, something universities do to their own students rather than something that is inflicted by external (market or government) powers, we make visible its ideological nature and implications. The longer history of international fees in Brittan was thus an important site of ideological co-option; it was a critical juncture at which universities could have related in a more solidaric manner towards their students.

Unwillingness to cooperate on increased student acquisition costs

You might, at this stage, be wondering: what was the alternative? The answer is in recognising the structure of the market for what it is: efficiently recruiting and training a large number of international students requires some degree of cooperation between universities. My research, however, suggests that universities have often been unwilling to cooperate because they see each other chiefly as competitors. This competition is highly unequal given the advantage conferred to prestigious universities located in internationally well-known cities.

The irony is that many universities nevertheless end up – perhaps unwittingly – cooperating by partnering with one of the few private companies that offer international foundation programmes. These private providers can only reach economies of scale because they partner with multiple universities at the same time. One executive explains how carrying a portfolio of universities for agents to offer their clients is precisely what gives them a competitive advantage:

“The importance of the pathways to the agents is that they carry a portfolio of universities, and the ambition is that you have some which are very well-ranked and academically quite difficult to get into. And, you try and have a bottom-feeder or two, which is relatively easy to get into academically. The agent is then able to talk to its clients and say, look, I can get offers into these universities. Some of them are at the very top. If you are not good enough there, then you might get one in the middle and I’ve always got my insurance offer for you. […] what the pathways do is that they provide a portfolio that makes that easier.” (Private Executive)

A public consortium with pooled resources and that isn’t shy about strategically coordinating student flows would have functioned just as well, and the Northern Consortium is living proof of this. The consortium in fact inspired Study Group to get into the pathway business themselves. The limited growth of the Consortium, relative to its private rivals, is equally proof of missed chances and wasted opportunities.

Could the gerbil eat the lion?

Private providers can use and have used these practices of inaction to pit universities against each other, over time resulting in lower entry requirements and higher recruitment costs. In this climate, public alternatives such as in-house programmes struggle to survive. Once invited in, pathway companies are also well positioned to expand their business with their partner universities in other ways, deepening their dependence. As one senior executive told me:

“Our aspiration is to say that the heart of what we are is a good partner to universities. They trust us. […] for some of our core partners, we bring in a lot of revenue. And, that then puts us in a really good position to think about the other services that we can add of value.” (Private Executive)

The economic downside of relying on these ‘good’ partners is the expensive and volatile market dynamics that follow. As long as universities are trapped by the notion that they are chiefly competitors best served by outsourcing capabilities to sales-oriented firms and leaving international students to pick up the bill, there is limited hope for any genuine inter-university collaboration and innovation. This limits the public potential for scaling an economically viable and resilient market in the long-run.  As a sector, HE has the know-how, experience, capital, and repute to do this. It’s just about getting on with it!

Morten Hansen is a Lecturer in Digital Economy and Innovation Education at the Department of Digital Humanities, King’s College London.

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Editorial: 60 Years of the Society for Research into Higher Education

by Rob Cuthbert

Yesterday

Issue No 60 of SRHE News appears by happy coincidence in the 60th year since the Society for Research into Higher Education was established (“all my troubles seemed so far away”). Reminiscences can often be reinforced by the musical soundtrack of the time, as ours will be. Many readers of SRHE News and Blog weren’t born in 1965, but let’s not allow such small obstacles to deflect us, when everybody knows the tunes anyway. Here are a few reminders of how things were 60 years ago, in 1965.

(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction

As the Rolling Stones sang: “I tried, and I tried, and I tried and I tried, I can’t get no satisfaction”, the message resonated with 30,000 potential HE students who could not get admitted to higher education in UK universities in 1965, with only 50,000 places available. Only about 4% of the rising cohort of 18 year olds won admission to the 25 universities in existence in 1965. Most people left school at 15; the school-leaving age was only raised to 16 in 1971.

The Robbins Report two years earlier had punctuated, but not initiated, the accelerating expansion of demand and need for more higher education, reflected in the 1960s with the creation of the new plateglass universities, including Kent and Warwick in 1965. Robbins had proposed a new breed of scientific and technological universities but these were not established; development relied instead on the organic growth and expansion of the colleges already in existence. That growth was significantly helped and supported by the new Council for National Academic Awards (CNAA), created in 1965 to begin the validation of degree courses outside universities.

In a Parliamentary debate in December 1965 Lord Robbins aimed to set at rest the ‘more means worse’ argument championed by Kingsley Amis:

“On the occasion of our last debate, the two leading issues discussed were the question of numbers and the question of the machinery of government. On the first of these issues, whether the expansion proposed by the Committee on Higher Education involved a lowering of entry standards, I think it may be said that discussion is at an end. Even The Times newspaper, which is not over-given to retraction, has had to admit that its accusations in this respect rested on misapprehension; 1250 and the latest figures of qualified persons coming forward show, without a doubt, what our Committee always emphasised: that its estimates were on the low side rather than on the high.”

Continuing rapid expansion allowed more and more 18-year-olds to join: “I’m in with the in-crowd, I go where the in-crowd goes”. This was before fees; students had grants they didn’t have to repay, with their real value still rising (they peaked in 1968): boomers could happily sing with The Who about My Generation.

 We Can Work It Out

The non-university colleges would first become polytechnics, following the 1966 White Paper A Plan for Polytechnics and Other Colleges, written by civil servant Toby Weaver. Secretary of State for Education Tony Crosland promoted the new policy idea of the binary system (“Try to see it my way”) in his seminal Woolwich speech in April 1965, but Crosland had been mainly occupied with the comprehensivisation of secondary schools. DES Circular 10/65 was the first of a series which dealt with the issue of comprehensivisation, as Harold Wilson’s Labour government asked local education authorities to submit plans for reorganising their schools on comprehensive lines. It was the first major schools reform since Butler’s 1944 Education Act under Prime Minister Winston Churchill, who died in 1965.

Expansion of HE was substantially driven by the colleges, still very much part of the local authority sector. The polytechnics would increasingly chafe at the bureaucratic controls of local authorities but it would be more than 20 years before the 1988 Education Reform Act ripped the polytechnics out of the local authority sector. In 1965 the replacement of the London County Council by the Greater London Council was big news for the expanding HE sector, especially because it entailed the creation of the Inner London Education Authority, responsible for no fewer than five of the 30 polytechnics, and a range of other specialist HE institutions. Nowadays that kind of restructuring would barely merit a mention in Times Higher Education, which itself was not even a glint in the eye of Brian Macarthur, the first editor of the Times Higher Education Supplement, not launched until 1971.

I Can’t Explain

The colleges to become polytechnics would soon be calling for ‘parity of esteem’ (“Got a feeling inside – can’t explain”). Although ‘poly’ would eventually be replaced in the vernacular by the execrable but inescapable ‘uni’, some features of the HE system proved extremely persistent. League tables had not yet made an appearance but would soon become not only persistent but pernicious. Some things, like HE hierarchies of esteem, seem to be always with us, just as Frank Herbert’s mediocre scifi novel Dune, first published in 1965, has recently seen yet another movie remake.

A World of Our Own

In contrast David Lodge, professor of English Literature at Birmingham University, would go from strength to strength, writing about what he knew best – “we’ll live in a world of our own”. 1965 was before his campus trilogy, rated by some as the best novels ever about university life, but in 1965 he did write about a PhD student, in The British Museum Is Falling Down. In the same year Philip Larkin, still only halfway through his twenty years’ service as Librarian at the University of Hull, was awarded the Queen’s Gold Medal for Poetry.

It’s Not Unusual

For those whose memory is punctuated by sporting events there was still a year to wait before England’s triumph in the football World Cup, which sadly was unusual, indeed unique. A more usual hierarchy of football esteem began in 1965 with Liverpool’s first ever win in the FA Cup, and an era ended with Stanley Matthews’ final game in the English First Division. Tom Jones began his own era of success in 1965 with his first No 1 hit, It’s Not Unusual.

Eve of Destruction?

US president Lyndon Johnson announced the Great Society in his State of the Union address in January 1965, but Martin Luther King marched in Selma and  Montgomery. The first American troops arrived in Vietnam, and a Students for a Democratic Society demonstration against the war drew 25,000 people in Washington. Student protests, too, are always with us (”The Eastern world, it is exploding”).

How sweet it is

Dorothy Hodgkin had won the Nobel Prize for Chemistry just a year earlier, and in 1965 she was made a member of the Order of Merit. The Social Science Research Council was established in 1965. It was later renamed the Economic and Social Research Council in an early skirmish in the culture wars, precipitated by Keith Joseph as Education Secretary under Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher – who had been taught by Dorothy Hodgkin at Somerville College, Oxford.

Act naturally

The field of research into higher education was sparsely populated in 1965, but for the founders of the Society for Research into Higher Education it was a natural development to come together. The learned society they created has, in the 60 years since then, grown into an internationally-oriented group of researchers, dedicated to every kind of research into a global HE system which could scarcely have been dreamed of, but would surely have been celebrated, by SRHE’s founders. Let’s hang on, to what we’ve got.

The Society has planned a range of activities to celebrate its platinum anniversary, including a series of blogs reflecting on changes to higher education during those 60 years. If you would like to contribute to the series (Help! I need somebody) please contact rob.cuthbert@uwe.ac.uk.

Rob Cuthbert is editor of SRHE News and the SRHE Blog, Emeritus Professor of Higher Education Management, University of the West of England and Joint Managing Partner, Practical Academics. Email rob.cuthbert@uwe.ac.uk. Twitter/X @RobCuthbert.


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Open universities: between radical promise and market reality

by Ourania Filippakou

Open universities have long symbolised a radical departure from the exclusivity of conventional universities. Conceived as institutions of access, intellectual emancipation, and social transformation, they promised to disrupt rigid academic hierarchies and democratise knowledge. Yet, as higher education is increasingly reshaped by market logics, can open universities still claim to be engines of social progress, or have they become institutions that now reproduce the very inequalities they sought to dismantle?

This question is not merely academic; it is profoundly political. Across the globe, democratic institutions are under siege, and the erosion of democracy is no longer an abstraction – it is unfolding in real time (cf EIU, 2024; Jones, 2025). The rise of far-right ideologies, resurgent racism, intensified attacks on women’s and LGBTQ+ rights, and the erosion of protections for migrants and marginalised communities all point to a crisis of democracy that cannot be separated from the crisis of education (Giroux, 2025). As Giroux (1984) argues, education is never neutral; it can operate as both a potential site for fostering critical consciousness and resistance and a mechanism for reproducing systems of social control and domination. Similarly, Butler (2005) reminds us that the very categories of who counts as human, who is deemed grievable, and whose knowledge is legitimised are deeply political struggles.

Open universities, once heralded as radical interventions in knowledge production, now find themselves entangled in these struggles. Increasingly, they are forced to reconcile their egalitarian aspirations with the ruthless pressures of neoliberalism and market-driven reforms. The challenge they face is no less than existential: to what extent can they uphold their role as spaces of intellectual and social transformation, or will they become further absorbed into the logics of commodification and control?

My article (Filippakou, 2025) in Policy Reviews in Higher Education, ‘Two ideologies of openness: a comparative analysis of the Open Universities in the UK and Greece’, foregrounds a crucial but often overlooked dimension: the ideological battles that have shaped open universities over time. The UK Open University (OU) and the Hellenic Open University (HOU) exemplify two distinct yet converging trajectories. The UK OU, founded in the 1960s as part of a broader post-war commitment to social mobility, was a political project – an experiment in making university education available to those long excluded from elite institutions. The HOU, by contrast, emerged in the late 1990s within the European Union’s push for a knowledge economy, where lifelong learning was increasingly framed primarily in terms of workforce development. While both institutions embraced ‘openness’ as a defining principle, the meaning of that openness has shifted – from an egalitarian vision of education as a public good to a model struggling to reconcile social inclusion with neoliberal imperatives.

A key insight of this analysis is that open universities do not merely widen participation; they reflect deeper contestations over the purpose of higher education itself. The UK OU’s early success inspired similar models worldwide, but today, relentless marketisation – rising tuition fees, budget cuts, and the growing encroachment of corporate interests – threatens to erode its founding ethos.

Meanwhile, the HOU was shaped by a European policy landscape that framed openness not merely as intellectual emancipation but as economic necessity. Both cases illustrate the paradox of open universities: they continue to expand access, yet their structural constraints increasingly align them with the logic of precarity, credentialism, and market-driven efficiency.

This struggle over education is central to the survival of democracy. Arendt (1961, 2005) warned that democracy is not self-sustaining; it depends on an informed citizenry capable of judgment, debate, and resistance. Higher education, in this sense, is not simply about skills or employability – it is about cultivating the capacity to think critically, to challenge authority, and to hold power to account (Giroux, 2019). Open universities were once at the forefront of this democratic mission. But as universities in general, and open universities in particular, become increasingly instrumentalised – shaped by political forces intent on suppressing dissent, commodifying learning, and hollowing out universities’ transformative potential – their role in sustaining democratic publics is under threat.

The real question, then, is not simply whether open universities remain ‘open’ but how they define and enact this openness. To what extent do they serve as institutions of intellectual and civic transformation, or have they primarily been reduced to flexible degree factories, catering to market demands under the guise of accessibility? By comparing the UK and Greek experiences, this article aims to challenge readers to rethink the ideological stakes of openness in higher education today. The implications extend far beyond open universities themselves. The broader appeal of this analysis lies in its relevance to anyone interested in universities as sites of social change. Open universities are not just alternatives to conventional universities – they represent larger struggles over knowledge, democracy, and economic power. The creeping normalisation of authoritarian politics, the suppression of academic freedom, and the assault on marginalised voices in public discourse demand that we reclaim higher education as a site of resistance.

Can open universities reclaim their radical promise? If higher education is to resist the encroachment of neoliberalism and reactionary politics, we must actively defend institutions that prioritise intellectual freedom, civic literacy, and higher education for the public good. The future of open universities – and higher education itself – depends not only on institutional policies but on whether scholars, educators, and students collectively resist these forces. The battle for openness is not just about access; it is about the kind of society we choose to build – for ourselves and the generations to come.

Ourania Filippakou is a Professor of Education at Brunel University of London. Her research interrogates the politics of higher education, examining universities as contested spaces where power, inequality, and resistance intersect. Rooted in critical traditions, she explores how higher education can foster social justice, equity, and transformative change.

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What’s in a name? That which we call a university…

by Rob Cuthbert

In England the use of the title ‘university’ is regulated by law, a duty which now lies with the regulator, the Office for Students (OfS). When a new institution is created, or when an existing institution wishes to change its name, the OfS must consult on the proposed new name and may or may not approve it after consideration of responses to the consultation. The responsible agency for naming was once simply the Privy Council, a responsibility transferred to the OfS with the Higher Education and Research Act 2017. For existing older universities where legislative change is needed, the Privy Council must also still approve, but will only do so with a letter of support from the OfS. The arrangements were helpfully summarised in a blog by David Kernohan and Michael Salmon of Wonkhe on 8 April 2024, before most of the recent changes had been decided.

That which we call a university would probably not smell quite as sweet if it could not use the university title, and with its new power the OfS has made a series of decisions which risk putting it in bad odour. In July 2024 it allowed AECC University College to call itself the Health Sciences University. Although AECC University College was a perfectly respectable provider of health-related courses, this name change surely flew in the face of the many larger and prestigious universities which had an apparently greater claim to expertise in both teaching and research in health sciences. The criteria for name changes are set out by the OfS: “The OfS will assess whether the provider meets the criteria for university college or university title and will, in particular: …  Determine whether the provider’s chosen title may be, or may have the potential to be, confusing.” It is hard to see how that criterion was satisfied in the case of the Health Sciences University.

Even worse was to come. In 2024 Bolton University applied to use the title University of Greater Manchester, despite the large and looming presence of both Manchester University and Manchester Metropolitan University. And the OfS said yes. If you google the names Bolton or Greater Manchester University you may even find the University of Bolton Manchester, which is neither the University of Bolton nor the University of Manchester, but is “Partnered with the University of Bolton and situated within the centre of Manchester” – indeed, very near the Oxford Road heartland location of Manchester and Manchester Metropolitan universities.

This is rather more confusing and misleading than University Academy 92, founded by a group of famous football team-mates at Manchester United, formed in August 2017 and based near Old Trafford. Wikipedia says that “the approval by the Department of Education (DoE) to allow UA92 the use of ‘University Academy 92’ was questioned with critics claiming the decision to approve the use of the name makes it ‘too easy’ for new providers to use ‘university’ in a new institution’s name”. This criticism continues to have some merit, but a high-profile football-related initiative, now broadened, is perhaps less likely to cause any confusion in the minds of its potential students. It may be significant that it was created at the same time as the HERA legislation was enacted, with government perhaps relaxing its grip in the last exercise of university title approval powers before the Privy Council handed over to the OfS. UA92 was and continues to be a deliverer of degrees validated by Lancaster University. In 2024 the OfS the University of Central Lancashire applied to be renamed the University of Lancashire, despite the obvious potential confusion with Lancaster University. And the OfS said yes.

It was not ever thus. The Privy Council would consult and take serious account of responses to consultation, especially from existing universities, as it did after the Further and Higher Education 1992 when 30 or so polytechnics were granted university title. A massive renaming exercise was carefully managed under the Privy Council’s watchful eye. As someone centrally involved in one such exercise, at Bristol Polytechnic, I know that the Privy Council would not allow liberties to be taken. The renaming exercise naturally stretched over many months; the Polytechnic conducted its own consultations both among its staff and students, but also much more widely in schools and other agencies across the South West region. Throughout that period, in a longstanding joke, the Polytechnic Director playfully mocked the Vice-Chancellor of Bristol University by suggesting that the polytechnic might seek to become the ‘Greater Bristol University’. It was a joke because all parties knew that the Privy Council, quite properly, would never countenance such a confusing and misleading proposal.

How would that name change play out now? In the words (almost) of Cole Porter: “In olden days a glimpse of mocking was looked on as something shocking, now heaven knows, anything goes.”

Rob Cuthbert is the editor of SRHE News and Blog, and a partner in the Practical Academics consultancy. He was previously Deputy Vice-Chancellor and professor of higher education management at the University of the West of England.

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OfS with their heads: is Cromwell to blame?

by Paul Temple

If you’ve been watching the BBC adaptation of Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall: The Mirror and the Light, you may like me have been surprised by how little higher education featured in the story. (All right, they couldn’t cover every aspect of sixteenth-century English life, but still.) England’s two universities at that time (Scotland of course had four by the end of the sixteenth century) had essential roles as the principal providers of the skilled workforces that expanding commercial, administrative, and legal functions needed – although where Thomas Cromwell himself (played by Mark Rylance) gained his legal and administrative skills remains a mystery: presumably they were picked up during his travels as a young man around Europe. As a study covering a slightly earlier period put it, the medieval university professionalized knowledge, with increasingly specialised courses fitting students for careers in secular professions (Leff, 1968). Religious instruction, sometimes assumed to be the main function of the pre-modern university, was largely undertaken in separate monastic and cathedral schools. These might have developed into universities with secular roles, but instead in England largely faded away.

The significance of England’s two universities is indicated by the powers that Cromwell took to control them in his ascent through English government in the 1530s. At Oxford, he saved the institution that his patron Cardinal Wolsey had established as Cardinal College and turned it into Christ Church College; and in 1534 “wrested the Visitorship of New College [by then 155 years old] from its customary holder as Bishop of Winchester, Stephen Gardiner” (MacCulloch, 2018: 275) – Cromwell’s implacable enemy, played creepily in the series by Mark Gatiss. This created another grudge that Gardiner held against Cromwell, and which he would repay with interest. Tensions surrounding what we would now call the governance of higher education had surprisingly important ramifications in the politics of the Tudor court. (Wolsey also established in 1528 a college in Ipswich, his place of birth, but for a number of complicated reasons it was short-lived, and so never, as it presumably might have done, became England’s third university.)

Medieval and early-modern Oxford University was continually engaged in disputes, sometimes violent ones, with the city, and Cromwell was apparently regularly called in to arbitrate. This was the man at the very centre of the administration of the English state: if the Cabinet Secretary dropped in to help your University sort out a planning problem with the local council, it would indicate, I think, that we were looking at a big deal nationally. (We may gain a sense of the scale of these town vs gown disputes by referring to what are known as the St Scholastica’s Day riots of 1354 which led to the deaths of 62 Oxford scholars. As Oxford student numbers have been estimated at around 1,500 at this time, this implies a remarkable death toll of about 4% of the student population. Not for the last time in troubles involving university students, drink seems to have been implicated.)

It seems that Cambridge University felt that they were getting a bit left out, and so in 1534 offered Cromwell the position of High Steward and a year later elected him Chancellor, in place of Bishop John Fisher, who was executed that year – although not, it seems, as a result of any failures in university leadership (MacCulloch, 2018: 276); so unfortunately we cannot properly read this as a warning about the risks involved in university management. It seems that Cromwell’s first job at Cambridge was to deal with the town vs gown hostilities centred around the annual fair held on Stourbridge Common: presumably he was by now something of an expert in managing these conflicts. He was also, it seems, interested in what we would now call curriculum reform, despite having no personal experience of university study: as MacCulloch remarks, under Cromwell’s direction, this was the first time “government had intruded on the internal affairs of Oxford and Cambridge, an interference that has never thereafter ceased” (306). Some of the blame for the activities of the Office for Students must therefore be traceable back to Thomas Cromwell: how did Hilary Mantel miss this plot angle?

References

Leff, G (1968) Paris and Oxford Universities in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries New York, NY: Wiley

MacCulloch, D (2018) Thomas Cromwell: A Life London: Allen Lane

Dr Paul Temple is Honorary Associate Professor in the Centre for Higher Education Studies, UCL Institute of Education.

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Happy New Year

by Rob Cuthbert

SRHE News is glad to bring you the Augur Report, its prognostications for 2025, based on extensive research into the works of Nostradamus, Old Moore’s Almanac and Mystic Meg.

January

  • Donald Trump resumes the US Presidency and announces that free speech in HE requires him to ban the use of the words Diversity, Equality and Inclusion in US HE. Elon Musk argues that this should  also be applied in the UK.
  • UUK launches another major campaign to point out that most universities really are in serious financial trouble.
  • UCEA points out the difficulty of affording any staff salary increases at all in the present climate.
  • Vice-chancellors point out that the financial difficulties facing their institutions would not be significantly alleviated if they took a 50% cut in salary, and competitive salaries are essential to enable Britain’s world class universities to recruit and retain the best leaders. Especially when it has become so difficult to recruit staff.
  • The OfS announces a concordat with Russian higher education to support a major increase in its use of AI, using Russian cyber experts. The first expansion of AI will be in the approval of new university titles: the new AI Department will be known as the Nomenklatura Department. The criteria remain unchanged: the OfS “will consult on a provider’s proposed new name and assess the extent to which the proposed name is confusing or misleading”.
  • The OfS is already the investigating authority, prosecutor, judge, jury and executioner for all HE infractions, and now seeks the power to exile to Siberia any academics complicit in breaching Condition of Registration B2. Government agrees in the interests of reducing net migration.

February

  • After the disappointing application figures for 2025 entry, UCAS launches a major advertising campaign to point out that the increase in undergraduate fees won’t make any difference to most student debt repayments.
  • UUK launches a new campaign to point out that the increase in undergraduate fees won’t make any difference to the financial troubles in most universities.
  • Government announces that even after all those new teachers are appointed there might be a bit left over for HE from the proceeds of VAT on private school fees. Teacher educators point out that after yet another year of missed targets in teacher training there is no-one qualified to apply for the new jobs in schools.
  • OfS approves a name change from Anglia Ruskin University to the University of Cambridge(shire).

March

  • The OfS approves a name change from Oxford Brookes University to University of Oxford(shire).
  • UUK relaunches its campaign: “Most universities really are in deep financial trouble, honest.”
  • Government says there might still be something left for HE from VAT on school fees, and Elon Musk might have a point.
  • The interim temporary Archbishop of Canterbury says she will renounce the power of the Archbishop to award degrees.

April

  • The OfS approves a name change from University of the West of England to the Greater Bristol University.
  • The OfS announces a major increase in the use of AI, to extend to all interventions on quality/standards/ breach of conditions of registration. The OfS Nomenklatura Department has been renamed, partly because no-one remembers the Soviet Union any more, and also because it was too likely to cause confusion with the rest of the OfS, who are already party-appointed bureaucrats. The suggested new name, the Behan Bots – conscripted to work for low pay, completely in the dark – is rejected because nobody remembers the Second World War any more and in any case it was too likely to cause confusion with existing university staff. OfS CEO Susan Lapworth says the new Department will now be known as the Laptops.
  • The OfS announces a concordat with Chinese higher education which will start with a new student recruitment campaign in the North East: “Huawei the lads”.

May

  • The OfS approves a name change from Coventry University to Warwick(shire) University.
  • Government says sorry – even though they couldn’t appoint any new teachers there was nothing left from VAT on school fees because they diverted it to fill the £22billion hole in the public finances. It issues guidance on the use of language in HE, known as the Musk Directive.
  • UUK’s Taskforce on Efficiency and Transformation in Higher Education announces that it is in advanced talks with Government about restructuring the HE sector in England. Luckily the Taskforce chair is a lawyer specialising in mergers and acquisitions.

June

  • The OfS approves a name change from Birmingham City University to the Greater Birmingham University
  • GuildHE issues a reminder that it has no formal connection with the Church of England or any other faiths but remains committed to whatever you are allowed to call diversity, equity and inclusion since the Musk Directive.
  • Canterbury Christ Church University is renamed University of Kent Two. OfS says this is unlikely to cause confusion among international students, especially since Kent is so near to Paris.
  • Bishop Grosseteste University becomes the University of Lincoln Two But We Were Here First. Leeds Beckett, Northumbria, Sheffield Hallam, Greater Birmingham and Greater Bristol consider name changes.
  • UUK issues a media release saying “we did warn you” as 30% of universities merge or close. OfS says everything will be OK, because all universities are required to have plans for an orderly exit from the market. Wimbledon fortnight begins and UCAS says “you cannot be serious”.

July

  • OfS approves a name change for Liverpool John Moores to Liverpools University.
  • The BBC is forced to suspend filming of the new series of University Challenge after 30% of universities appearing have merged, have new names or have announced their intention to close.

August

  • UCAS announces that the 30% reduction in available university places has luckily been matched by an equivalent fall in the number of applicants.
  • Government announces its three priorities for HE – reduction, reduction, reduction – will apply particularly to the numbers of students from all disadvantaged groups.

September

  • The OfS approves its own name change from the Office for Students to the Office with No Students on the Board (ONO).

October

  • Government announces its new higher education policy, with the establishment of a new corporation to take over all the universities not in a position to complain, provisionally titled the Great British University. ONO says this is unlikely to cause confusion, but governments in Wales and Scotland say they are confused since all the universities in the GBU are in England. The Northern Ireland Assembly say they’re glad it wasn’t the Great UK University, or they would have been confused. The new HE policy includes a pledge/mission/milestone promising net zero admissions by 2030, or maybe 2035.
  • The last Bishop to leave the Church of England is asked to remember to switch off all the lights to comply with its Net Zero Bishops pledge.

November

  • The Greater London Non-University College of Monkey Business publishes its annual Report and Accounts: income £925,000; expenditure £925,000, all annual salary for the principal. It  recruited 100 students but they all left at the end of the year without leaving forwarding addresses. Having no students at all on its Board it claims to be completely aligned with the regulator.

December

  • ONO announces it has breached its own conditions of registration and has removed itself from the Register of Approved Regulators. Dusting down a forgotten part of the Higher Education and Research Act (2017) it issues an urgent appeal – Quick, Anyone? Anyone! – for a new designated quality body to replace itself, which becomes known as the QAA appeal.
  • A High Court judgment finds that publishers have mis-sold the copyright of academics to multinational AI corporations and orders financial compensation, known as Publishers Pay Instead (PPI). Publishers set aside £100billion.
  • Universities launch a counter claim, asserting their ownership of, or failing that a pretty strong  interest in, copyright of academics in their employ, and sue to recover the costs of journal subscriptions and transitional agreements. Publishers set aside a further £100billion.
  • Multinational AI corporation share prices, now quoted only in bitcoin, continue to rise.
  • The new Wallace and Gromit film, Academic Free-Don, is set in a university where the inmates are planning a mass escape. When they realise that their new zero-hours contracts allow them to leave at any time, they apply for exile to Siberia, where they expect better pay and conditions of employment.
  • The theme for the 2026 SRHE Conference is announced: “Where do we go from here?”

SRHE News is a not-for-prophet enterprise. No octopuses were harmed in the making of this editorial.

SRHE News Editor Rob Cuthbert is Emeritus Professor of Higher Education Management, University of the West of England and Joint Managing Partner, Practical Academics rob.cuthbert@btinternet.com. Twitter @RobCuthbert

Paul Temple


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No, it doesn’t make sense to me, either

by Paul Temple

I recently gave a cat-oriented friend a framed copy of a New Yorker cartoon showing a vet’s waiting room. A vet is saying to a man sitting there, “About your cat, Mr Schrödinger, there’s good news and there’s bad news…” Linda put the cartoon in her downstairs loo, and says that half her visitors think it’s hilarious while the rest are completely baffled.

The cartoon really summarises the totality of my knowledge of quantum mechanics, but as it seems to be one of those topics where if you think you understand it, you almost certainly don’t (and you’d be in pretty good company, see below), then my almost boundless ignorance doesn’t feel too bad. But as ideas borrowed from quantum mechanics seem to be colonising areas of discourse that were until recently understandable (we thought) to those of us without doctorates in the subject, perhaps we’d better make an effort.

A recent example of its spread is the paper by our colleague Ron Barnett, ‘Only connect: designing university futures’ in Quality in Higher Education, in which Ron uses the idea taken from quantum mechanics of “entanglement” to consider the university’s relationship with other entities. (And this is where it starts to get tricky.) As Ron notes, entanglement implies that the entities involved are mutually constitutive: one entity cannot be understood without examining the other entities with which it is entangled: “It may be true that one cannot give a description of the modern university without also referring to the economy but the reverse situation also holds: one cannot give a proper description of the economy without referring to a society’s universities. The economy is constitutive of universities, certainly; but universities are also constitutive of the economy”.

So far, so just about OK, yes? But the entanglement idea leads us into territory that is beyond weird: Einstein apparently wrote that “no reasonable definition of reality could be expected to permit” what entanglement implies, but – assuming that quantum computing is going to work, and there are some big bets on it doing so – it turns out that even he was mistaken. What Einstein couldn’t accept, it seems, was that two entangled objects, wherever in the universe they may be, become in effect one, after at first assuming opposite states.

Yes, this is way past anything that we’ve learned to accept as normal. One suggestion of how to think about entanglement asks us to imagine you and a friend tossing entangled coins. (How did they become entangled in the first place? Pass.) If, when you look at your coin, it’s heads, then your friend’s coin will, necessarily, be tails. But if your friend now looks at their coin, it will be heads, which means that your coin will now be tails: back to Schrödinger’s cat, simultaneously both dead and alive. (While the bits in normal computing have a value of either zero or one, qubits in quantum computing can have values of zero and one: Schrödinger’s cat is at the computer keyboard, which incidentally needs to be at a temperature close to absolute zero.)

With Einstein, perhaps, you may think this makes no sense, but earlier this year Google announced a breakthrough in creating an “error correction quantum computer”, having spent hundreds of millions of dollars on the project (Microsoft, Amazon, the Chinese, and others are also on the case), so they obviously think this stuff will work, regardless of the normal rules of the universe.

So, to pursue Ron’s suggestion about the university and the economy being mutually constitutive, it seems to follow that they will be – must be, following the theory – in opposite states. If you were looking for an argument for universities needing to be independent of government, might this be it? Next time a minister inveighs about universities being nests of woke, perhaps someone should explain the quantum aspects of the situation to them: the more regressive government policies become, universities will necessarily become more radical – it can’t be helped, it’s just to do with entanglement and the structure of the universe. I’m sure they’d appreciate the clarification.

Dr Paul Temple is Honorary Associate Professor in the Centre for Higher Education Studies, UCL Institute of Education.