What makes an organization distinct? What makes it unique? With specific relation to the university, what’s the value proposition that distinguishes it in a crowded and competitive higher-education market? What’s its ‘Return On Investment’ (ROI)?
Consensus on the above questions is difficult to obtain. Some people will bristle at the very concept of universities being businesses. But they are. (And they’re in trouble).
Others might profess their area of expertise as the institution’s backbone, its most valuable asset, the distinguishing factor. And they might be right. But I ask, are students – the real consumers of higher education – even aware of this niche specialization? Is it the principal reason for their attending your university over countless others? How does this unique contribution add value to their education and student experience? In what ways does it enrich the organization and its learning environment?
And still others might suggest that location and access to services are what make it unique. That it’s not just about the programs and degrees being offered, but the more holistic picture of where the institution is geographically situated. That in addition to a host of learning opportunities that can be found across all universities, spatial and physical considerations provide a recognizable X factor that propels an institution’s value proposition.
There is truth to all viewpoints. But the need to be different is still palpable. It’s what separates one organization from the herd, providing an advantage in the competitive marketplace of higher education. It’s a critical ingredient for recruiting to graduate degrees, but also for the bread-and-butter of undergraduate curricula. The unique value proposition informs constituents’ and communities’ perspective of the organization, projecting its external value and importance. It plays a significant marketing and communications role, helping to educate current and prospective students, faculty, and staff about why an institution exists, why it does what it does, and how it is (or isn’t) appreciated.
Why does distinction matter? Because there’s risk in homogeneity. Where costs for a degree are more-or-less similar, choice is large, and accessibility is increasing, students are shopping for the best ROI for their futures. (A recent study by Royal Bank of Canada economists speaks to a diminishing perception in financial return among students ). Higher-education institutions have a social responsibility to provide it through quality instruction, relevant courses and program, world-leading research, and credentials that are measured and accountable to the people offering them, to Government, and to the many communities an institution serves.
So why do we struggle to define what makes us special? To do so would be highly advantageous, especially from a branding and marketing vantage. And in theory, it should be easy to identify our strengths in order to leverage them in every way possible. We know what we offer, and we know intimately the people we’ve hired to deliver a high-quality educational experience.
Yet a tension remains between owning and asserting our most obvious research and teaching strengths within an organization, which are represented by the few, and trying to acknowledge the contributions and value of the whole, which is represented by the majority. In other words, it feels like an exclusionary argument that serves to promote those who are already benefiting from the system – to the detriment of others, whose contributions are somehow less visible in the shadows of those which become elevated.
There is also a prevailing argument for ‘education for education’s sake’. It’s often said that a university can’t be a real university without program X. Never mind how few students enrol in said program. The internal debate is around delivering a comprehensive education, the availability to offer a traditional curriculum, for students of all stripes to have their choice, and ultimately to be providing and increasing social value by virtue of merely existing.
The trouble with this argument is that it glosses over the weak spots. And they do exist. Every institution has its strengths, which should be leveraged more strategically to its benefit. Yet we spend an awful lot of time fighting for, and salvaging, courses and programs whose role in the wider organization is notional at best. So much time and energy is spent in keeping our heads above the water, in absorbing the deficits, in cross-subsidizing the smaller departments and academic programs, that the appetite for strategic thinking is dampened.
By no means am I critiquing the ‘Arts’, which is among the most obvious target in such debates. As a product and advocate of the Social Sciences and Humanities, I don’t need to defend my position here. The point I’m trying to make concerns our inherent inability (at times) to decide on, support, and articulate our greatest institutional strengths, which in turn would bolster our ability to deliver education as a whole. It’s about how the outside world sees us; how prospective students see us; how parents and family members of those students see us.; and, ultimately, what compels students of all ages and experience to commit to one institution over another.
Universities need to stand out. To stand above the rest. Both to defend and assert their critical role not only in education, but in social, political, and economic development. They serve a fundamental purpose; it’s incumbent upon us to remind others exactly what it might be.
But there is one important caveat: we can’t be all things to all people. This is precisely where the greatest risk lies – the biggest trap into which my current institution has fallen. To please everyone, to try and offer as many programs as possible, only weakens the fabric. It creates so many internal and administrative challenges. And, ultimately, it draws resources and attention away from what matters most.