The University of Papua New Guinea crest - gateway to a flawed dream. Photo: UPNG

Pacific Scoop:
Analysis – By Scott MacWilliam

During the early 1960s, when the initial conception and planning occurred for the establishment of the University of Papua New Guinea, two visions were especially prominent. The first, associated with Territories Minister Paul Hasluck, Administrator Donald Cleland and other liberal developers, including Sir George Currie, Dr John Gunther and Professor OHK Spate, saw the development of a national university as central to the needs of an emerging nation-state.

While there were some differences among top government officials, particularly about whether the institution should be affiliated with an Australian university or autonomous, these men had no doubt about the purposes, goals of and requirements for a university.

Two of them Cleland and Gunther were wise enough to walk around, scrutinise and select what would become a major part of UPNG’s valuable inheritance, 1000 acres of land.

The second vision, held by some settler expatriates and others in Papua New Guinea and Australia, was condemnatory and cynical of the first. At its most extreme, doubt was cast on whether Papua New Guineans were even capable of attending university. Ridicule and abuse often appeared, in what would today be almost universally regarded as utterly offensive language.

Sadly, if some of the cynics were to visit UPNG today and selectively read some of the evidence available in various reports, they would find support for their bigotry. In important respects, UPNG is a 21st century university in name only. There is an important credit side of the institution, which is discussed below, but for now, the debits.

There is limited internet access at UPNG, little research and publishing, a library with most of its collection utterly outdated and what remains easily stolen or mutilated, inadequate housing for national and expatriate staff, and deteriorating buildings with little basic maintenance carried out.

By way of illustrating the above inadequacies, consider the following examples. On a recent visit to UPNG, I conducted some elementary research into teaching and research facilities. At a time when internet demand was as low as possible, with few staff and students on campus, it took more than three minutes to simply access the home page of the World Bank from an above average academic office. Downloading any document would have taken more time than I could spare. A colleague operating out of the same office has spent over K7000 of personal income travelling to a number of the more up-market hotels to use their faster internet facilities so as to have the most basic teaching materials.

Internet handicap
The effects of such limited internet access for students and academic staff are many. Attracting staff trying to teach, research and publish without one of the major technological tools of the twenty-first century is self-evidently difficult. But the absence of adequate internet facilities extends to internal administration matters as well. The UPNG web home page, which proudly proclaims the aspiration of being “The Premier University of the Pacific” has not been updated since March 2007. In mid-December 2010, less than two months before enrolment and orientation commences for 2011, staff did not know and had not been circulated with a recent Council decision setting academic dates for next year. By comparison, the University of the South Pacific web page is updated continuously and access is easy: by early December 2010, the Vice Chancellor’s Report to the November Council meeting as well as the Strategic Plan for 2010-2012 were already posted and available internationally.

While the library has an acquisitions budget, this is too limited to maintain journal subscriptions. Without internet access, online subscriptions would be a waste of funds anyway. The collection’s strengths end in the late 1980s-early 1990s but without adequate security any worthwhile holdings can be stolen. I tested library security: on three occasions on separate days. In each occasion I was able to walk in without leaving my bag at any form of depository and walk out without having the bag checked to see if it contained stolen material. Academics with whom I spoke readily admitted that they order no books and no longer lend their own publications to a library which can not ensure their safety. An especially frank colleague, whom I have known since the mid-1980s, acknowledged that it was years since he used the library and was often teaching with old material.

Staff housing on campus is run-down and completely inadequate: as a very senior administrator stated without obvious embarrassment, in his view much of it should be bulldozed. Not only is security minimal, when some of the housing is proximate to a major slum, but the occupation of university housing is itself not subject to any meaningful scrutiny. What was constructed to house an academic with family is now occupied by large numbers of people, many of whom have no employment connection to the university. In such circumstances, it is unlikely that any worthwhile academic work can be carried out at home.

To make matters even worse, the scarce housing stock is also occupied by people who do not teach or provide any other services to the university, but use university housing because it is cheaper than other accommodation in Port Moresby. The university is itself reportedly renovating some accommodation to be rented out to non-university personnel, so as to gain income, and without regard to its own staff’s needs.

Decaying buildings
On several occasions I walked around the campus, with unoccupied acreages and decaying buildings, and tried to imagine what Donald Cleland and John Gunther would now make of their vision. Two among many instances suggest they too would be disappointed. The first is the condition of buildings in the old Art School, located right beside the now renovated and expanded National Research Institute. While the latter displays prominent signs indicating that some of the offices and accommodation are a “Gift from the People of Australia to the People of Papua New Guinea”, the former has buildings falling apart, pot-holed roads and run-down houses where staff and students, as well as squatters, live.

The second is the more recently constructed Arts building named in honour of poet and academic Ulli Beier. A teaching and display resource which has been and could remain inspirational as well as utilitarian, instead now is becoming dilapidated. The striking polished wood floor has major termite and other damage, with caution having to be exercised when walked upon. One section is so damaged and dangerous, that a cheap whiteboard has been used to cover the holes and weakened boards. An important tribute to an influential African and Papua New Guinean artist, the structure is falling fast upon hard times.

Yet standing among the inadequate facilities, it is obvious that UPNG has assets, possible building blocks for revitalisation and restoration of the founders’ ambitions. The first is students: UPNG still attracts most of the best students in the country, and the demand for a university education at this institution is not declining. It is a cliché to say these are the future skilled workers and professionals, as well as managers and political leaders. But they are also the nutrients which feed every great university, each year making campuses unlike most other institutions, with their energy, enthusiasm and ambitions.

Further, bringing up young people with a goal to attend university is a sign of an important change, even maturation in a country. Thousands of parents, many of whom have never had secondary or tertiary education themselves, now channel their energies and household expenditure into providing for their children. Parents run into debt often to ensure that their children have the possibility of tertiary studies. While accountants and economists abhor deficits and applaud balanced budgets for nations, most parents engage in deficit financing constantly, much of it to pay education costs. (In PNG, micro-financiers and/or loan-sharks feed upon this ambition mercilessly: most government institutions deduct money from employee wages to meet such debts before paying the balance to individuals.)

It is also the case that for an increasing number of parents and students, the ultimate goal is to obtain positions outside PNG. The Air New Guinea in-flight magazine boasts of Papua New Guineans now piloting advanced aircraft for other airlines, and UPNG graduates are filling positions in Australia.

Staff commitment
The second major resource which UPNG has is staff, present and past, the latter with residual loyalties to the university’s earlier vision which is currently untapped. Teaching loads are unreasonable, and it is hardly surprising that in the conditions little research is done. Nevertheless, there are many people working with limited resources such as would not be acceptable in most international universities. That they continue to do so, when more favourable employment exists elsewhere, suggests a remarkable degree of commitment to teaching and the university itself. For instance, in one academic strand, with no staff above lecturer level and only five academics in total, more than1400 students are taught in 11 subjects. Every course has more than 80 students, so there can be no accusation of too wide a spread of subjects for this area. One serious consequence of the over-loading is that existing staff undertake little development training.

Thirdly, the university still owns a very large portion of the land which was so assiduously secured over 40 years ago. One informed estimate provided recently suggests that, despite losing a portion of its undeveloped holding to a developer’s land-grab, UPNG’s remaining land could be priced at up to K1 billion in the current land shortage. Unfortunately buildings and housing are currently so sparsely distributed as to make security almost impossible, and the vacant areas remain potential prey for other real-estate developers. The housing currently being built for staff is off-campus and in suburbs regarded by many Papua New Guineans as unsafe, especially for expatriates who do not have kinship and other ties to provide some support.

Over the next few years, it will become apparent whether either the liberal development vision or that of those who sniggered will triumph. UPNG is in a parlous condition, in a country which desperately needs a major national university able to meet the aspirations of thousands of its citizens. A few smaller institutions, private and/or religious may make important contributions, plug a few holes, but nothing will be as important for the future of tertiary education in the immediate future as what happens to the country’s first university. Can national leaders, some of whom were beneficiaries of an earlier, better UPNG, and international donors combine in an overdue rescue mission?

Dr Scott MacWilliam is a sessional lecturer in the Australian National University’s Crawford School of Economics and Government. This article is Part 1 of a two-part series. This article was first published on Pacific Media Centre Online.

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