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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.

Paul Temple


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Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be

by Paul Temple

The thing about golden ages is that people mostly don’t realise that they’re living through one, expecting the nice stuff that’s happening to go on for ever. In retrospect, the Institute of Education, when it was a more-or-less autonomous college of the University of London, was an almost-nearly-perfect university institution. It was big enough – about 400 academic staff when I was there – but not too big; although of course you didn’t know everyone personally, you were on a nodding acquaintance with a lot of them. It was academically-focused, naturally, on education, so there was a common intellectual thread, but, given the nature of education as an area of study, this meant that a range of disciplines – philosophy, economics, sociology, psychology, history, and more – were in the mix, producing a stimulating creative setting. And that was before you counted the teacher-training specialists: I was in awe of my colleagues who were able to give fresh-faced graduates the confidence to stand in front of London school or college classes. So there was a lot going on, all packed into a few Bloomsbury buildings.

This function of scale, intellectual connectivity, and physical proximity produced a high level of social capital, in particular the kind that the political scientist Robert Putnam (2000) has called “generalised reciprocity”. This means that you are in a setting where people you don’t know personally will (probably) help you when required, and you in turn will do your best to help someone else who may be unknown to you. This implies the existence of large reserves of trust, which in turn (as many studies have shown – see for example Fukuyama (1995)) promotes organisational efficiency. Things get done quickly without lengthy discussion: I might ask the Academic Registrar to bend the rules on student admissions, for example, and she would probably agree because she thought I was a basically sensible bloke. Well, I think that’s what she thought: the example I have in mind involved accepting someone on to a master’s course whose highest academic achievement was five O-levels. As the student concerned went on, with a little help from us, to become a PVC in a major university, I think you might say that we called it right.

When the discussions began about the Institute merging with UCL – it finally took place at the end of 2014 – colleagues sometimes asked those of working on higher education policy and management what we thought of the idea: some of us had actually studied previous university mergers (for example, Shattock, 2010; Temple, 2002; Temple and Whitchurch, 1994). I usually replied that there would be good news and bad news. The good news was that we’d be part of a world-leading university in a global city, so that student recruitment problems would be a thing of the past, and it wouldn’t do research earnings any harm either. (While the Institute’s stand-alone reputation attracted plenty of interest from international students, the Curse of the Rankings – as a single-faculty institution, the IoE wasn’t included – meant that many found it difficult to obtain financial support from their home countries.) The bad news was that, as a small cog in a big machine, the IoE would have to fit in with UCL ways of working, which would be unlike those we had all been used to. Things would be done in more bureaucratic ways (I use the word in its sociological sense, not as a lazy insult), in a low-trust environment without the social capital-rich networks that we’d known previously. Also, the IoE top brass who had negotiated the merger deal (“Don’t worry, it’ll work out just fine”) would move on, and their replacements would be appointed by UCL to manage what had become just another UCL faculty. Sympathy with quirky IoE methods wouldn’t be in their job descriptions.

I think I’ve been proved right.

References

Fukuyama, F (1995) Trust: The Social Virtues and the Creation of Prosperity London: Hamish Hamilton

Putnam, R (2000) Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community New York, NY: Simon and Schuster

Shattock, M (2010) Managing Successful Universities (2nd ed.) Maidenhead: SRHE & Open University Press

Temple, P (2002) ‘Reform in a Fragmented System: Higher Education in Bosnia-Herzegovina’ Higher Education Management and Policy, 14 (2), 87-98

Temple, P and Whitchurch, C (1994) ‘An International Perspective: Recent Growth Mergers in British Higher Education’ in Martin, J and Samels, J (eds) Merging Colleges for Mutual Growth Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press

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