John Butler Trio, Missy Higgins, Crowded House, Good Vibrations Festival: pick me, pick me, pick me! Keith Urban: deathly silence. No offence to and nothing implied about Keith Urban and his music; his target audience and fan base is simply not the young Uni crowd. But, should that deter young social justice campaigners from volunteering their time and skills? Or, are we at the stage where volunteering is a selective experience: the key question is 'what's in it for me'? The question then is WHY do people volunteer? I naively thought that it was a blanket active optimism and hope for a fairer and better world, and to simply donate one's time and skills for helping others, unconditionally and without expectation.
Witnessing the shift in volunteering mentality on a Uni campus over the last few years has changed my views. I'd rather not admit a generation gap between myself and the young 'uns, but perhaps that's exactly what it is. To attract the current 'me me me' generation, you have to offer them something in return. And apparently a free ticket to a Keith Urban gig is not enough. So what is? Recognition? Kudos? A certificate? A medal?
Volunteering is probably considered to be essentially selfish by the cynical, as you do make yourself feel better by helping others or promoting worthwhile causes. But, we are now dealing with a whole new level of selfishness: the 'feel good' factor is not enough. Has it ever been enough? Uni clubs often reel in new executives and members by pulling the line 'it'll look good on your CV!'. What about simply contributing and giving back to the Uni community and reviving the waning, expensive social atmosphere (thanks VSU!)? Has the nature of volunteering changed such that volunteers look for self-gain or self-promotion over (or disguised within) helping others - in that case, who are you really helping? Or have I just had my head in the sand? Probably.
Don't even get me started on religious motivations for volunteering: fear of external damnation and refused salvation by one's chosen Lord by not spreading the word through actions, or even worse, community work or aid with a religious agenda. That's a rant worthy of its own post.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
'Green' Music Festivals: Fashionable Farce?
Al Gore started it. In July 2007, Live Earth fashioned a trend when it beamed across the world, staging twelve massive concerts in all seven continents over 24 hours. All for the noble cause of raising awareness about climate change. Then the Foo Fighters, Rolling Stones, and Coldplay jumped onboard the green gig bandwagon. So what's the problem? Outdoor music festivals are responsible for generating 100 000 tonnes of carbon emissions each year in Australia, where one single music festival can emit up to 700 tonnes of CO2 whilst patrons contribute 1500 tonnes travelling to and from the gig [Greening Australia]. The series of Live Earth concerts contributed at least 74,500 tonnes of carbon from artist/patron travel, television audience, and concert energy consumption. Let's put these numbers into perspective: the average Australian household generates 12 tonnes of C02 annually, and we are the second worst per capita polluter in the world amongst developed nations. Although Gore's Live Earth concerts had good intentions of raising awareness about climate change, having made 'green' music festivals fashionable, concert promoters are now staging more 'climate-friendly' music festivals under the guise of raising more awareness of climate change - sounding a bit like profit over planet? Surely you have sit up and suspect when even the World Bank admitted that making our lifestyles 'climate-neutral' was an industry already worth US$11 billion in 2005.
But how much climate change awareness is really raised at these gigs? Are people really showing solidarity for the cause and a love for Mother Earth, or are they just there for the music/drugs/booze? For those of you who travelled (*gasp* you flew?!) to see Live Earth - would you consider your actions to be hypocritical? But it's not just the patrons who might be hypocritical, the organisers also have to get their act together. Simply 'offsetting' emissions is only a small part of an active solution: staging a gig causes environmental issues beyond just carbon emissions from running the event and jetting musicians with their gear around. Sure, powering 10kW of speaker/subwoofer towers illuminated by rigs of 200 500W stage lights (mind you, outdoor music festivals need more stage lighting than indoor concerts to combat natural light) would overload the electricity grid that we use, so outdoor gigs have to bring in multiple electricity generators the size of shipping containers to satiate such a huge demand for power. But power aside, tonnes of waste are generated by humans biologically and otherwise: 1,025 tonnes of food and drink waste were estimated to have been generated from the Live Earth venues around the world. The physical environment at outdoor festivals also takes a severe bashing: spilling beer and jumping around on drought-ravaged grass can only lead to death by alcohol poisoning and trampling. Composting toilets, composting/biodegradable/recyclable food packaging, offering organic, vegetarian food, running on solar and renewable power where possible, providing compost and recycling facilities, providing mass-transport options for patrons, and limiting merchandising (do we really need more commemorative t-shirts made from pesticide-ridden cotton sown and sewn by malnourished children to show how cool and trendy we are?) are all part of minimising the environmental impact of an outdoor music festival.
The fashionable demand for 'green' music festivals (a neo-hippie oxymoron?) has brought Greening Australia and GreenTix together to offer these massive events voluntary options for patrons to offset their travel emissions, and options for organisers to plant a tree for each ticket sold and offset the emissions caused by the festival itself. So far 13 festivals have signed up to this initiative, including The Pyramid Rock Festival, Falls Festival, Corinbank, Peats Ridge Festival, and Blues and Roots Festival. For the John Butler Trio's national tour, ticket buyers can fork out an extra 50 cents for a 'green ticket' to 'carbon neutralise' their contribution as a patron, whilst WOMADelaide 2008 'carbon neutral' tickets started from an extra $4 per ticket, and the Splendour in the Grass 'green ticket' was an extra $3.50 in 2007. Ticketmaster even takes it one step further and carbon offsets the emissions from producing the paper tickets sold for this year's V-Festival! But paying an extra few dollars to make going to a gig 'carbon neutral' sounds suspiciously like paying to remove your climate guilt. And easing that guilt in such a trivial manner makes it too easy to keep going to more power-hungry, waste-generating music festivals without having to think too hard about the effects of your (in)actions. Should we keep living our musically indulgent lifestyles whilst islands in the Pacific and atolls in the Maldives slowly drown, along with people's livelihoods and homes? But what's the alternative: crawling back into our caves to sing 'Kumbaya' with the humble acoustic guitar around the campfire?
Perhaps we should just listen to gigs in the dark, since concert lighting uses at least 3-5 times as much power as the audio; but that depends on whether people are there to hear the music or see the performance. I know I'm of the former category, but I'm probably in the minority. Or perhaps we should all just sit back, reflect upon our over-indulgent lifestyles, differentiate between what we need and what we want, and adopt a 'prevention is better than a cure' mentality to reduce our emissions rather than trying to offset the damage already done. Don't get me wrong, although I am a left-wing, wannabe greenie hippie, I am also an engineer (and not an environmental engineer at that!) who loves (electronic) music and is an audio gear aficionado. Sure, call me a hypocrite, but you won't catch me buying a 'green ticket' just to ease my climate guilt, or going to the Climate Festival, a dance music festival touring this month to raise 'eco-awareness' of climate change. Don't fall for the greenwash marketing, blindly pay that extra 50 cents (where is the money actually going?), or have a tree planted to make yourself feel better (where is that tree being planted and what kind of tree is it?). If you have to go to a music festival, go for the music and learn/get active about climate change outside the realm of an outdoor gig. Did you really pay for your ticket so that you could learn how to compost? Sure, it's a great bonus that it's a 'carbon-neutral' festival, but don't go to a music festival just because it boasts about being 'climate-friendly'! Don't support such a farcical fad: the only way a music festival can be climate-friendly is if it doesn't happen at all.
But how much climate change awareness is really raised at these gigs? Are people really showing solidarity for the cause and a love for Mother Earth, or are they just there for the music/drugs/booze? For those of you who travelled (*gasp* you flew?!) to see Live Earth - would you consider your actions to be hypocritical? But it's not just the patrons who might be hypocritical, the organisers also have to get their act together. Simply 'offsetting' emissions is only a small part of an active solution: staging a gig causes environmental issues beyond just carbon emissions from running the event and jetting musicians with their gear around. Sure, powering 10kW of speaker/subwoofer towers illuminated by rigs of 200 500W stage lights (mind you, outdoor music festivals need more stage lighting than indoor concerts to combat natural light) would overload the electricity grid that we use, so outdoor gigs have to bring in multiple electricity generators the size of shipping containers to satiate such a huge demand for power. But power aside, tonnes of waste are generated by humans biologically and otherwise: 1,025 tonnes of food and drink waste were estimated to have been generated from the Live Earth venues around the world. The physical environment at outdoor festivals also takes a severe bashing: spilling beer and jumping around on drought-ravaged grass can only lead to death by alcohol poisoning and trampling. Composting toilets, composting/biodegradable/recyclable food packaging, offering organic, vegetarian food, running on solar and renewable power where possible, providing compost and recycling facilities, providing mass-transport options for patrons, and limiting merchandising (do we really need more commemorative t-shirts made from pesticide-ridden cotton sown and sewn by malnourished children to show how cool and trendy we are?) are all part of minimising the environmental impact of an outdoor music festival.
The fashionable demand for 'green' music festivals (a neo-hippie oxymoron?) has brought Greening Australia and GreenTix together to offer these massive events voluntary options for patrons to offset their travel emissions, and options for organisers to plant a tree for each ticket sold and offset the emissions caused by the festival itself. So far 13 festivals have signed up to this initiative, including The Pyramid Rock Festival, Falls Festival, Corinbank, Peats Ridge Festival, and Blues and Roots Festival. For the John Butler Trio's national tour, ticket buyers can fork out an extra 50 cents for a 'green ticket' to 'carbon neutralise' their contribution as a patron, whilst WOMADelaide 2008 'carbon neutral' tickets started from an extra $4 per ticket, and the Splendour in the Grass 'green ticket' was an extra $3.50 in 2007. Ticketmaster even takes it one step further and carbon offsets the emissions from producing the paper tickets sold for this year's V-Festival! But paying an extra few dollars to make going to a gig 'carbon neutral' sounds suspiciously like paying to remove your climate guilt. And easing that guilt in such a trivial manner makes it too easy to keep going to more power-hungry, waste-generating music festivals without having to think too hard about the effects of your (in)actions. Should we keep living our musically indulgent lifestyles whilst islands in the Pacific and atolls in the Maldives slowly drown, along with people's livelihoods and homes? But what's the alternative: crawling back into our caves to sing 'Kumbaya' with the humble acoustic guitar around the campfire?
Perhaps we should just listen to gigs in the dark, since concert lighting uses at least 3-5 times as much power as the audio; but that depends on whether people are there to hear the music or see the performance. I know I'm of the former category, but I'm probably in the minority. Or perhaps we should all just sit back, reflect upon our over-indulgent lifestyles, differentiate between what we need and what we want, and adopt a 'prevention is better than a cure' mentality to reduce our emissions rather than trying to offset the damage already done. Don't get me wrong, although I am a left-wing, wannabe greenie hippie, I am also an engineer (and not an environmental engineer at that!) who loves (electronic) music and is an audio gear aficionado. Sure, call me a hypocrite, but you won't catch me buying a 'green ticket' just to ease my climate guilt, or going to the Climate Festival, a dance music festival touring this month to raise 'eco-awareness' of climate change. Don't fall for the greenwash marketing, blindly pay that extra 50 cents (where is the money actually going?), or have a tree planted to make yourself feel better (where is that tree being planted and what kind of tree is it?). If you have to go to a music festival, go for the music and learn/get active about climate change outside the realm of an outdoor gig. Did you really pay for your ticket so that you could learn how to compost? Sure, it's a great bonus that it's a 'carbon-neutral' festival, but don't go to a music festival just because it boasts about being 'climate-friendly'! Don't support such a farcical fad: the only way a music festival can be climate-friendly is if it doesn't happen at all.
Oh, abhorrent gambling!
The amount of tourists who travel to Macau blows my expectations. Ferry tickets at Sheung Wan sell out by the minute, and there are ferries every five minutes. Nearby tourist agencies offer ferry tickets for immediate departure in a system that can only be described as legalised scalping. No wonder tickets sell out so quickly at the counter: the agencies buy out chunks of tickets for resale at inflated prices. This leads to the ‘waiting line’ extravaganza at the ferry terminal: you can depart on any ferry earlier than your ticketed ferry, so long as there are seats available. So, for the next departing ferry, there are two lines: one for legitimate ticket holders, another a ‘waiting line’ for those who want an earlier ride. Once that ferry is full, the waiting line immediately dissipates to queue up for the next ferry. It’s certainly a game, and an easy game to get sucked into by the crowd. Although the terminal in HK was packed, the city of Macau was not overflowing with tourists. This in itself indicates how many people travel to Macau purely for casino gambling and entertainment. During the day, mind you, not just at night.
The old town square is a tourist hub, and it has clearly been renovated and polished like a gem. What is more interesting, however, is the fusion of Portuguese and Chinese architecture on ordinary streets, culture, food, and the vibe from the locals. The stately Senado square leads off into narrow alleys reminiscent of HK in the 50s. Residential apartment buildings with precariously overhanging steel balconies line both sides of the alleys; street-level space is home to mom-and-pop small shops. Amongst the shops selling Macau's famous almond cookies on big bamboo trays, attendants juggle sales with at least two currencies: HKD and MOP, if not the Chinese Yuan as well. The visual and cultural contrasts are certainly unique to Macau: streets and alleys lined with old-HK-style residential buildings boast streetlamps with hanging flower-pots and footpath flower-boxes distinctly European in style and grace.
The locals are friendly, laid-back, and admirably tolerant and helpful towards tourists running amok in their quiet, hilly city. It is an odd experience for me, as I am used to the Cantonese-speaking people of HK being fast-paced, impatient, and often crudely spoken. It would appear that the Macanese are proud of their city, and proud of how famous it has become over the last few years since its return to China. The growth, economical and geographical (through land reclamation), has been phenomenal yet typical of China.
Then, a visit to a few casinos leaves me rattled at the sheer scale of the gambling: the size of the casinos, the number of casinos, and how much people gamble away. The Chinese word for gambling is a word play on ‘dumping money’, but I wonder many gamblers care to make the linguistic connection. The casino security is tight (no water, no bags, and security screens) and they are clever: you must walk through the casino floor to reach more worthwhile attractions and the hotel rooms. This I cannot take, being forced to witness people throwing hundreds of dollars on games of chance with odds stacked against them, multiplied by the number of people on a table, multiplied by hundreds of tables, plus pokies. The casino hotel rooms may be grandiose, but whose money paid for your luxury? Not to mention how much of the tourist dollar actually trickles down to the locals, versus how much is gobbled up by government and foreign investment in grand projects for land reclamation and/or to build new casinos. Oh, Cotai Strip, what will you inflict on the future of Macau and its people?
The locals are presumably profiting somewhat from the tourist dollars (and the local government even more so), but the problems associated with such an open city rife for abuse through the abundant casino gambling are hidden well, or have yet to surface. What if the casino bubbles burst, will the Macanese be left to pick up the pieces of a promised fortune from gambling tourism? Money is transient, particularly in this city, where the gamblers come in from HK, China, and beyond, whilst the phenomenal casino profits float back overseas to their laughing investors.
The old town square is a tourist hub, and it has clearly been renovated and polished like a gem. What is more interesting, however, is the fusion of Portuguese and Chinese architecture on ordinary streets, culture, food, and the vibe from the locals. The stately Senado square leads off into narrow alleys reminiscent of HK in the 50s. Residential apartment buildings with precariously overhanging steel balconies line both sides of the alleys; street-level space is home to mom-and-pop small shops. Amongst the shops selling Macau's famous almond cookies on big bamboo trays, attendants juggle sales with at least two currencies: HKD and MOP, if not the Chinese Yuan as well. The visual and cultural contrasts are certainly unique to Macau: streets and alleys lined with old-HK-style residential buildings boast streetlamps with hanging flower-pots and footpath flower-boxes distinctly European in style and grace.
The locals are friendly, laid-back, and admirably tolerant and helpful towards tourists running amok in their quiet, hilly city. It is an odd experience for me, as I am used to the Cantonese-speaking people of HK being fast-paced, impatient, and often crudely spoken. It would appear that the Macanese are proud of their city, and proud of how famous it has become over the last few years since its return to China. The growth, economical and geographical (through land reclamation), has been phenomenal yet typical of China.
Then, a visit to a few casinos leaves me rattled at the sheer scale of the gambling: the size of the casinos, the number of casinos, and how much people gamble away. The Chinese word for gambling is a word play on ‘dumping money’, but I wonder many gamblers care to make the linguistic connection. The casino security is tight (no water, no bags, and security screens) and they are clever: you must walk through the casino floor to reach more worthwhile attractions and the hotel rooms. This I cannot take, being forced to witness people throwing hundreds of dollars on games of chance with odds stacked against them, multiplied by the number of people on a table, multiplied by hundreds of tables, plus pokies. The casino hotel rooms may be grandiose, but whose money paid for your luxury? Not to mention how much of the tourist dollar actually trickles down to the locals, versus how much is gobbled up by government and foreign investment in grand projects for land reclamation and/or to build new casinos. Oh, Cotai Strip, what will you inflict on the future of Macau and its people?
The locals are presumably profiting somewhat from the tourist dollars (and the local government even more so), but the problems associated with such an open city rife for abuse through the abundant casino gambling are hidden well, or have yet to surface. What if the casino bubbles burst, will the Macanese be left to pick up the pieces of a promised fortune from gambling tourism? Money is transient, particularly in this city, where the gamblers come in from HK, China, and beyond, whilst the phenomenal casino profits float back overseas to their laughing investors.
Capitalism >> Socialism
Shenzhen feels like a bubble about to burst. Retail is everywhere. I want to walk around outside but buses zoom by on the huge, dual-carriage, partitioned streets. It is not a pedestrian-friendly place. In a country teeming with people, flattening one who naively strolls onto street does not seem to be a loss of great concern.
In the pedestrian-only shopping area (‘bo huang gai’), shops are full of vast goods: clothes, shoes, accessories, snack food, drinks, etc. Street food stalls display a variety of edibles from northern-style flour cakes, corn steamed in rice cookers, preserved meat and vegetables, and sweet drinks prepared on the spot. Thumping beats fade in and out on the footpath as distorted Chinese pop music blasts out from each shop at top volume. People are dressed in trendy fashion, and the girls are wafer thin. There certainly is pressure of women to look ‘beautiful’: as soon as we surfaced from the subway station escalator, ladies stood awaiting with advertisements for cosmetic surgery. Local businesses know who has the money: one glimpse of Cantonese and my (male) friend is discreetly approached to buy porn. I saw the peddler approach but their superior skills in discretion, combined with my naivety, shielded my eyes from the multimedia goods.
It feels so fake; the people, the atmosphere, and even the aura is odd. China built Shenzhen up as a special economic zone, and the social implications of this are now being seen. As the buffer between a growing China and seemingly affluent Hong Kong, mainland Chinese flock to Shenzhen to earn a living, be it begging on the streets as an individual, in organised groups, or working in legit businesses. Touted as a haven for pickpockets and petty (or violent, if you’re unlucky) crime, you can feel the transience of the city amongst the bustle. People, money, businesses, and goods come and go, whether between China and Hong Kong or otherwise it does not matter. There is no feel of permanence here; among the sensory overload in the five hours of my visit, I can distinctly smell the persistent and determined hope of money and opportunity. And at street level, search as I might, there is not a trace of socialism to be seen...
In the pedestrian-only shopping area (‘bo huang gai’), shops are full of vast goods: clothes, shoes, accessories, snack food, drinks, etc. Street food stalls display a variety of edibles from northern-style flour cakes, corn steamed in rice cookers, preserved meat and vegetables, and sweet drinks prepared on the spot. Thumping beats fade in and out on the footpath as distorted Chinese pop music blasts out from each shop at top volume. People are dressed in trendy fashion, and the girls are wafer thin. There certainly is pressure of women to look ‘beautiful’: as soon as we surfaced from the subway station escalator, ladies stood awaiting with advertisements for cosmetic surgery. Local businesses know who has the money: one glimpse of Cantonese and my (male) friend is discreetly approached to buy porn. I saw the peddler approach but their superior skills in discretion, combined with my naivety, shielded my eyes from the multimedia goods.
It feels so fake; the people, the atmosphere, and even the aura is odd. China built Shenzhen up as a special economic zone, and the social implications of this are now being seen. As the buffer between a growing China and seemingly affluent Hong Kong, mainland Chinese flock to Shenzhen to earn a living, be it begging on the streets as an individual, in organised groups, or working in legit businesses. Touted as a haven for pickpockets and petty (or violent, if you’re unlucky) crime, you can feel the transience of the city amongst the bustle. People, money, businesses, and goods come and go, whether between China and Hong Kong or otherwise it does not matter. There is no feel of permanence here; among the sensory overload in the five hours of my visit, I can distinctly smell the persistent and determined hope of money and opportunity. And at street level, search as I might, there is not a trace of socialism to be seen...
Tea and Pantyhose
The concept of the Hong Kong 'dai pai dong' milk tea epitomises so much of the Hong Kong experience. One generally does not think twice about the humble cup of tea; but when it comes to the HK style of milk tea, this drink is no small matter. In fact, preparation of the tea is considered a culinary art; there are chefs that specialise in this, and such tea chefs are highly sought after as, like many traditional and cultural arts, upcoming young talent is few and far between. In fact, the art is being replaced by chemical concoctions that merely simulate the taste of the tea, and packaged for the convenience that is now expected by and necessary for the typical time-poor HK local or expat. The pace of HK life is so fast, working locals do not have the time to sit down and enjoy a cup of properly prepared milk tea, and when there is demand for instant milk tea, there will be readily available, mass-produced supply.
The simple fact that a cup of milk tea is considered as a culinary art goes to show how big a role food plays in HK Chinese culture. No food or drink is considered too small to be an art requiring years of training and experience. It also illustrates the fusion of the Western and Chinese culture, which is exactly what HK is, given its colonial history under the British after the Opium Wars. The tea itself is a secret blend of English and Asian tealeaves, individually tuned by each tea chef, and put through an extensive process of brewing, straining (in a pantyhose-like filter), and pouring from height to increase the amount of air in the beverage. The tea is then brewed with evaporated milk, not fresh milk, which illustrates the role of dairy in the HK diet. That is, fresh dairy produce was not readily available until recent times, but the British could not forgo this luxury hence the proliferation of processed dairy products such as evaporated, condensed, and powdered milk in the HK diet. Chinese tea is taken without milk and unsweetened; sweet milk tea is purely a Western construct.
My grandpa stubbornly insists on ritually going out for two cups of milk tea everyday, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, which tells me that HK milk tea has been around for a long time. Hopefully, this delicious beverage will continue to be brewed according to the secret recipes of the tea chefs. However, with youth opting for the safe and stable careers offered by University degrees, the future of this culinary art unique to HK is potentially at the mercy of the test tubes in food labs hidden amongst the towers of the world's financial bigwigs.
http://www.reuters.com/article/lifestyleMolt/idUSHKG19611520071227
The simple fact that a cup of milk tea is considered as a culinary art goes to show how big a role food plays in HK Chinese culture. No food or drink is considered too small to be an art requiring years of training and experience. It also illustrates the fusion of the Western and Chinese culture, which is exactly what HK is, given its colonial history under the British after the Opium Wars. The tea itself is a secret blend of English and Asian tealeaves, individually tuned by each tea chef, and put through an extensive process of brewing, straining (in a pantyhose-like filter), and pouring from height to increase the amount of air in the beverage. The tea is then brewed with evaporated milk, not fresh milk, which illustrates the role of dairy in the HK diet. That is, fresh dairy produce was not readily available until recent times, but the British could not forgo this luxury hence the proliferation of processed dairy products such as evaporated, condensed, and powdered milk in the HK diet. Chinese tea is taken without milk and unsweetened; sweet milk tea is purely a Western construct.
My grandpa stubbornly insists on ritually going out for two cups of milk tea everyday, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, which tells me that HK milk tea has been around for a long time. Hopefully, this delicious beverage will continue to be brewed according to the secret recipes of the tea chefs. However, with youth opting for the safe and stable careers offered by University degrees, the future of this culinary art unique to HK is potentially at the mercy of the test tubes in food labs hidden amongst the towers of the world's financial bigwigs.
http://www.reuters.com/article/lifestyleMolt/idUSHKG19611520071227
Re: Australia's PhD Brain-Drain
PhD deficit to hit Australian economic boom (The Australian, Nov. 12 2007)
The leaders of Australia's G8 universities, although well-meaning, are grossly mistaken if they think that simply introducing more PhD scholarships jointly sponsored by Government and industry will absolve Australia of its so-called PhD 'brain-drain' ("PhD deficit to hit Australian economic boom", The Australian, Nov. 12 2007). University VCs have all completed PhDs in the not-so-distant past, yet they have obviously forgotten what it is like to be a (prospective) PhD student.
Simply throwing money at students is not going to entice graduates to pursue careers in research and/or academia; the 'brain-drain' problem has has much deeper roots than that. Mind you, why are research and academia thrown together in the same boat in the first place (which sounds suspiciously like two jobs for the pay of one)? Note that academics are more likely hired for their research qualities and not teaching skills (which of the two brings in money?), which speaks very little for the quality of tertiary teaching in Australia. With poor teaching at the undergraduate level, why would students want to stay for a postgraduate PhD program? In fact, doesn't it seem a little strange to you that a teaching degree is required for primary and secondary-level education, but not for tertiary teaching where a PhD research degree is sufficient?
Sure, it can't hurt to offer more scholarships to prospective PhD students. But why the focus on industry funding? Perhaps the Government should recognise the importance of research and innovation in the form of economic commitments to the future of Australian research: PhD students and research funding grants. Furthermore, industry partners are unlikely to invest in PhDs and research that do not produce tangible outcomes and economic returns. With a focus on industry funding, what will happen to 'high risk' research that may not produce commercialable outcomes, but lay the foundation for future 'applied' research? Who will drive the ideas for the research: industry needs, or 'blue sky' academic innovation? This question can easily be answered by observing the inequality of funding and research resources allocated to the various faculties at Universities. It is not surprising to see money oozing out of engineering, IT, science, finance, and health, compared to the less industry-friendly (but equally essential to society) areas of history, politics, philosophy, and creative arts. Is this where university research is destined under the proposed industry-sponsored scholarships plan of the G8 universities?
Jointly funding PhD scholarships between Government and industry may sound appetising to universities and prospective PhD students (who wouldn't want the best of both worlds?), but in practice such arrangements can be more trouble than they're worth. In reality, IP is a money-making business, but who owns the IP generated from jointly funded research? In addition, the Government measures university research by counting academic publications and citations, and the delay in having publications approved by the IP layers of industry can be enough to miss crucial deadlines. Having industry and academic supervisors agree on research direction for a PhD can also be a challenge when both parties have different goals and timelines; such split agendas can greatly affect how much say a PhD student has on the topic, direction, and future of their own PhD.
Scholarships should indeed match industry salaries to attract more PhD students, but matching industry conditions must extend beyond just economic equality. Here, universities have a large role to play in attracting and keeping PhD students. No company would allocate office space to employees with furniture reminiscent of the days of wooden veneer, chairs that would make any chiropractor cringe, hand-me-down computers or an equally abysmal situation: computers shared between students. Not to mention Internet and email quotas that do not reflect the needs of online research and communication: would you settle for a university email account one-hundredth the size of a Gmail account? So why would students want to study PhDs and be subject to such (lack of) facilities, spend at least three years in the forgotten, non air-conditioned, windowless dark corners and basements of universities, when jobs in industry command so much more, economically and beyond?
The intentions of the G8 universities are noble: if there are downward trends in PhD student enrolments and young academics in Australia, then perhaps scholarships will increase numbers in PhD programs. But have PhD student dropout rates been considered: are prospective students signing up to PhDs and then moving onto greener pastures? The G8 universities are naive to propose that students can simply be wooed with money, when the problems of dwindling PhD student numbers and research and innovation (or lack thereof) in Australia are heavily influenced by industry interest in research, universities recognising the contributions and importance of PhD students, and the Government supporting research (quality not quantity) and tertiary education in Australia.
The leaders of Australia's G8 universities, although well-meaning, are grossly mistaken if they think that simply introducing more PhD scholarships jointly sponsored by Government and industry will absolve Australia of its so-called PhD 'brain-drain' ("PhD deficit to hit Australian economic boom", The Australian, Nov. 12 2007). University VCs have all completed PhDs in the not-so-distant past, yet they have obviously forgotten what it is like to be a (prospective) PhD student.
Simply throwing money at students is not going to entice graduates to pursue careers in research and/or academia; the 'brain-drain' problem has has much deeper roots than that. Mind you, why are research and academia thrown together in the same boat in the first place (which sounds suspiciously like two jobs for the pay of one)? Note that academics are more likely hired for their research qualities and not teaching skills (which of the two brings in money?), which speaks very little for the quality of tertiary teaching in Australia. With poor teaching at the undergraduate level, why would students want to stay for a postgraduate PhD program? In fact, doesn't it seem a little strange to you that a teaching degree is required for primary and secondary-level education, but not for tertiary teaching where a PhD research degree is sufficient?
Sure, it can't hurt to offer more scholarships to prospective PhD students. But why the focus on industry funding? Perhaps the Government should recognise the importance of research and innovation in the form of economic commitments to the future of Australian research: PhD students and research funding grants. Furthermore, industry partners are unlikely to invest in PhDs and research that do not produce tangible outcomes and economic returns. With a focus on industry funding, what will happen to 'high risk' research that may not produce commercialable outcomes, but lay the foundation for future 'applied' research? Who will drive the ideas for the research: industry needs, or 'blue sky' academic innovation? This question can easily be answered by observing the inequality of funding and research resources allocated to the various faculties at Universities. It is not surprising to see money oozing out of engineering, IT, science, finance, and health, compared to the less industry-friendly (but equally essential to society) areas of history, politics, philosophy, and creative arts. Is this where university research is destined under the proposed industry-sponsored scholarships plan of the G8 universities?
Jointly funding PhD scholarships between Government and industry may sound appetising to universities and prospective PhD students (who wouldn't want the best of both worlds?), but in practice such arrangements can be more trouble than they're worth. In reality, IP is a money-making business, but who owns the IP generated from jointly funded research? In addition, the Government measures university research by counting academic publications and citations, and the delay in having publications approved by the IP layers of industry can be enough to miss crucial deadlines. Having industry and academic supervisors agree on research direction for a PhD can also be a challenge when both parties have different goals and timelines; such split agendas can greatly affect how much say a PhD student has on the topic, direction, and future of their own PhD.
Scholarships should indeed match industry salaries to attract more PhD students, but matching industry conditions must extend beyond just economic equality. Here, universities have a large role to play in attracting and keeping PhD students. No company would allocate office space to employees with furniture reminiscent of the days of wooden veneer, chairs that would make any chiropractor cringe, hand-me-down computers or an equally abysmal situation: computers shared between students. Not to mention Internet and email quotas that do not reflect the needs of online research and communication: would you settle for a university email account one-hundredth the size of a Gmail account? So why would students want to study PhDs and be subject to such (lack of) facilities, spend at least three years in the forgotten, non air-conditioned, windowless dark corners and basements of universities, when jobs in industry command so much more, economically and beyond?
The intentions of the G8 universities are noble: if there are downward trends in PhD student enrolments and young academics in Australia, then perhaps scholarships will increase numbers in PhD programs. But have PhD student dropout rates been considered: are prospective students signing up to PhDs and then moving onto greener pastures? The G8 universities are naive to propose that students can simply be wooed with money, when the problems of dwindling PhD student numbers and research and innovation (or lack thereof) in Australia are heavily influenced by industry interest in research, universities recognising the contributions and importance of PhD students, and the Government supporting research (quality not quantity) and tertiary education in Australia.
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