As I approach my tenth year as president of Carnegie Corporation of New York, I continue to marvel at the increasing effects of globalization on societies everywhere. In 1997, in my first essay for the foundation’s annual report—a tradition for Corporation presidents—I noted, for example, how critical it is, in an increasingly interconnected and interdependent world, for foundations, nongovernmental organizations and others to work together to strengthen higher education institutions in places such as the former Soviet Union and the nations of Africa, whose progress and stability are crucial to prospects for world peace and the success of democracy.

The pressures on universities all across the world are growing as the American concept of education as a right, not a privilege—promoted in this country by legislation such as the 1862 Land-Grant Colleges Act (the Morrill Act), which brought education to the people by establishing universities in every state and the post-World-War-II G.I. Bill, which made higher education a national investment worthy of public funding—continues to gain traction. Even the citizens of states still in transition from their colonial legacies or emerging from war and civil strife demand that their homelands provide university-level education, whether they can afford to or not. Individuals increasingly recognize that their lot in life depends on their level of education and training. And states view free or affordable higher education as essential to their modernization and successful participation in the global marketplace. Many countries have tried to meet this growing demand by establishing as many institutions of higher education as possible. But creating a quality university system is easier said than done; though good schools can solve social ills from poverty to unemployment, a thousand practical problems and policy constraints stand in the way of developing them.

Indeed, simply establishing schools is not the same as having the requisite personnel, equipment, material, technological know-how, and finances to sustain them. In developing nations, there may be enough political will for equal opportunity in higher education, but not enough resources for excellence. There are other challenges as well: in developing parts of Africa, Asia, and Latin America, some of the best universities are under pressure to admit students from across the continent, in part—as in the U.S.—to increase their prestige and revenue. Often, this provokes debate within the university and the society at large about whether a nation should reserve its limited educational resources only for its own population or welcome students from across the region in the hope of promoting solidarity with neighboring states.

Some have turned to “virtual universities” or distance learning to help solve the problem. Widespread access to the Internet has made this feasible. But it also raises a number of concerns: to what extent, for example, does personal interaction with teachers matter to the quality of a student’s educational experience? How much does mixing with other students contribute to an understanding of different ethnic groups, races and ideologies? What about the whole environment created by being part of a learning community over the course of four years?

A first-rate faculty is key to building a successful university. But strapped for cash, time, and expertise, many institutions simply import visiting professors or rely on part-time graduate students to teach. Such hires usually remain outsiders among the university community, receive few benefits and are often neither adequately trained nor highly skilled. The opposite extreme—hiring academic “stars” in order to gain prestige but then leaving empty the coffers needed to hire young, high-quality professors—is also a recipe for institutional weakness. Ironically, universities suffer further when governments, along with local and international corporations, raid their best and brightest teachers.

In many globalizing markets, student expectations far outstrip the capabilities of fledgling university systems. China, for instance, has made remarkable efforts to provide ample educational opportunities for its talented young people. Yet everyone wants a top degree; students who attend second-tier universities eagerly pay extra to have their degrees bear the name of a better university—and have been known to riot when denied that opportunity. Some recent Chinese college graduates have refused to move out of their dormitories after failing to find either jobs or affordable housing.

Similar frustrations are evident in other developing countries where a scientific degree is no guarantee of getting a job in that field. Under-employing a country’s best-educated citizens is counterproductive, demoralizing and devastating to the yearning for upward mobility. A physicist working in a customs house is a symbol of national stagnation, not advancement. It also makes painfully clear that the right to an education does not automatically translate into the right to a suitably challenging, high-paying job.

Still, the clamor for higher education does not necessarily mean that students expect—or want—to be subject to rigorous coursework or held to high standards. In many countries, the trend is toward “fair” tests that give more students a chance to pass their classes and earn their degrees. To some extent, this is a reaction to the kind of centralized, high-stakes exam practices developed by the former Soviet Union, France and other states to identify talent and “manage” their citizens’ aspirations—in effect, designed to ensure that while everyone may get a chance, only a certain percentage will succeed.

Even when universities do everything in their power to provide excellent, high-quality education, the need to respond to the forces of globalization by developing technology or building international ties often leads them to neglect their own nation’s social agendas. If a nation is to progress, it needs well-educated teachers, doctors, lawyers, social workers, journalists, and business leaders, among others. It even needs expert bureaucrats to manage banking, healthcare, government and all the other elements of civil infrastructure. And these individuals must be not only trained but retained, requiring incentives to keep them at home. Otherwise, we see, for example, an exodus of trained health care providers from developing nations to Western hospitals. Britain has been a huge beneficiary of nurses emigrating from Malawi (and in recognition of the dire healthcare consequences for that nation, has offered aid to increase the salaries of Malawian nurses in order to reduce emigration). Similarly, even the U.S. has eased its shortage by welcoming nursing graduates from the Philippines. Namibia, meanwhile, cannot provide the financial incentives to keep its nurses; 30 percent of its nursing slots are vacant.

Taking these trends together, one conclusion is absolutely clear: throughout the world, the role of the university is critical to national development and central to the progress of society. And as such, it will continue to be the engine of change for every nation; all citizens, from the richest to the poorest, will look within its walls for the keys to their future. And not just their economic future; the main aim of higher education in a globalized setting must be for human beings and societies to develop a deeper understanding of each other’s values, traditions, and culture—especially now that many of them are in conflict with modernity and the forces unleashed by globalization. In essence, while governments are busy creating economic trade agreements, universities must provide not only the requisite expertise but also work to foster cultural exchanges for ideas, wisdom and knowledge—the truly precious currency of humankind.

Vartan Gregorian
President

Note: This letter was adapted from “The Right to Learn,” by Vartan Gregorian, which appeared in the international edition of Newsweek, August 21-August 28, 2006.

Photo by Inga Hendriks

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