Category: University culture

Applying for research funding – is it worth it? Part II – Costs and Benefits

A version of this article first appeared in Funding Insight on 9th March 2018 and is reproduced with kind permission of Research Professional. For more articles like this, visit www.researchprofessional.com

“Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!”

My previous post posed a question about whether applying for research funding was worth it or not, and concluded with a list of questions to consider to work out the answer. This follow-up is a list of costs and benefits associated with applying for external research funding, whether successful or unsuccessful. Weirdly, my list appears to contain more costs than benefits for success and more benefits than costs for failure, but perhaps that’s just me being contrary…

If you’re successful:

Benefits….

  • You get to do the research you really want to do
  • In career terms, whether for moving institution or internal promotion, there’s a big tick in the box marked ‘external research funding’.
  • Your status in your institution and within your discipline is likely to rise. Bringing in funding via a competitive external process gives you greater external validation, and that changes perceptions – perhaps it marks you out as a leader in your field, perhaps it marks a shift from career young researcher to fulfilling your evident promise.
  • Success tends to begat success in terms of research funding. Deliver this project and any future application will look more credible for it.

Costs…

  • You’ve got to deliver on what you promised. That means all the areas of fudge or doubt or uncertainty about who-does-what need to be sorted out in practice. If you’ve under-costed any element of the project – your time, consumables, travel and subsistence – you’ll have to deal with it, and it might not be much fun.
  • Congratulations, you’ve just signed yourself up for a shedload of admin. Even with the best and most supportive post-award team, you’ll have project management to do. Financial monitoring; recruitment, selection, and line management of one or more research associates. And it doesn’t finish when the research finishes – thanks to the impact agenda, you’ll probably be reporting on your project via Researchfish for years to come.
  • Every time any comparable call comes round in the future, your colleagues will ask you give a presentation about your application/sit on the internal sifting panel/undertake peer review. Once a funding agency has given you money, you can bet they’ll be asking you to peer review other applications. Listed as a cost for workload purposes, but there are also a lot of benefits to getting involved in peer reviewing applications because it’ll improve your own too. Also, the chances are that you benefited from such support/advice from senior colleagues, so pay it forward. But be ready to pay.
  • You’ve just raised the bar for yourself. Don’t be surprised if certain people in research management start talking about your next project before this one is done as if it’s a given or an inevitability.
  • Unless you’re careful, you may not see as much recognition in your workload as you might have expected. Of course, your institution is obliged to make the time promised in the grant application available to you, but unless you’ve secured agreement in advance, you may find that much of this is taken out of your existing research allocation rather than out of teaching and admin. Especially as these days we no longer thing of teaching as a chore to buy ourselves out from. Think very carefully about what elements of your workload you would like to lose if your application is successful.
  • The potential envy and enmity of colleagues who are picking up bits of what was your work.

If you’re unsuccessful…

Benefits…

  • The chances are that there’s plenty to be salvaged even from an unsuccessful application. Once you’ve gone through the appropriate stages of grief, there’s a good chance that there’s at least one paper (even if ‘only’ a literature review) in the work that you’ve done. If you and your academic colleagues and your stakeholders are still keen, the chances are that there’s something you can do together, even if it’s not what you ideally wanted to do.
  • Writing an application will force you to develop your research ideas. This is particularly the case for career young researchers, where the pursuit of one of those long-short Fellowships can be worth it if only to get proper support in developing your research agenda.
  • If you’ve submitted a credible, competitive application, you’ve at least shown willing in terms of grant-getting. No-one can say that you haven’t tried. Depending on the pressures/expectations you’re under, having had a credible attempt at it buys you some license to concentrate on your papers for a bit.
  • If it’s your first application, you’ll have learnt a lot from the process, and you’ll be better prepared next time. Depending on your field, you could even add a credible unsuccessful application to a CV, or a job application question about grant-getting experience.
  • If your institution has an internal peer review panel or other selection process, you’ve put you and your research onto the radar of some senior people. You’ll be more visible, and this may well lead to further conversations with colleagues, especially outside your school. In the past I’ve recommended that people put forward internal expressions of interest even if they’re not sure they’re ready for precisely this reason.

Costs…

  • You’ve just wasted your time – and quite a lot of time at that. And not just work time… often evenings and weekends too.
  • It’ll come as a disappointment, which may take some time to get over
  • Even if you’ve kept it quiet, people in your institution will know that you’ve been unsuccessful.

I’ve written two longer pieces on what to do if your research grant application is unsuccessful, which can be found here and here.

Applying for research funding – is it worth it?

A version of this article first appeared in Funding Insight on 6th March 2018 and is reproduced with kind permission of Research Professional. For more articles like this, visit www.researchprofessional.com

Success rates are low and applications are more and more time consuming to write. Is it worth it? Here’s a quick list of considerations that might help you reach a better decision.

While the latest success rates from UK research councils showed a very modest overall improvement after five consecutive annual falls, most observers regard this as a blip rather than as a sign of better times to come. Outside the Research Councils, success rates are often even lower, with some social science/humanities fellowship schemes having single digit success rates.

While success rates have fallen, demands on applicants have steadily risen. The impact agenda has brought first the impact summary and then the pathways to impact statement, and more recently we’ve seen greater emphasis on data management plans and on detailed letters of support from project partners that require significant coordination to obtain. It would be one thing if it were just a question of volume – if you want a six or seven figure sum of what’s ultimately public money, it’s not unreasonable to be asked to work for it. But it’s not just that, it’s also the fiddly nature of using JeS and understanding funder requirements. I’m forever having to explain the difference between the pathways to impact and the impact summary, and there are lots of little quirks and hidden sections that can trip people up.

But beyond even that, there’s the institutional effort of internal peer review from research development staff and senior and very busy academic staff. Whether that’s an internal review mandated by the research council – shifting the burden of review onto institutions – or introduced as a means of improving quality, it’s another cost.

Given the low success rates, the effort and time required, and the opportunity costs of doing so, are we wasting our time? And how would we know?

The research

  • Do you need funding to do the research? If not, might it be a better idea just to get on with it, rather than spend a month writing an application and six months waiting for a response? And if you only need a small amount of funding, consider a smaller scheme with a less onerous application process.
  • Do you have a clear idea of what you want to achieve? If you can’t identify some clear research questions, and what your project will deliver, the chances are it needs more thinking through before it’s ready to be turned into an application.
  • Are you and your team passionate and enthused and excited about your proposal? If you’re not, why should anyone else be?
  • Is your research idea competitive? That’s not the same question as ‘is it good’? To quote a research director from a Canadian Research Council – it’s not a test, it’s a contest. Lots and lots and lots of good ideas go unfunded. Just because you could get something in that’s in scope and has at least some text in every box doesn’t mean you should.
  • Is your research idea significant? In other words, does it pass the ‘so what, who cares’ test? My experience on an NIHR funding panel is that once the flawed are eliminated, funding is a battle of significance. Is your research idea significant, would others outside your field regard it as significant, and can you communicate its significance?

Your motivations

  • Are they intrinsic to the research – to do with the research and what you and your team want to discover and achieve and contribute…. or are they extrinsic?
  • Are you applying for funding because you want promotion? When you come and talk to me and my colleagues about ‘applying for funding’ but have less a coherent project and more of a list of random keywords, don’t think we don’t know.
  • Is it because you/your research group/school is being pressured to bring in more funding? Football manager Harry Redknapp’s tactical instructions to a substitute apparently once consisted of “just flipping run around a bit” (I paraphrase) and I sometimes worry that in some parts of some institutions that’s what passes for a grant capture strategy that values activity over outcomes.
  • Is it because you want to keep researchers on fixed term contracts/your promising PhD student in work? That’s a laudable aim, but without the right application and idea, you risk giving them false hope if the application is just to do more of the same with the same people.

Practical considerations

  • Do you have the time you need to write a competitive application? Just as importantly, do your team? Will they be able to deliver on the bits of the application they’ll need to write? As Yoda said, “do or do not, there is no try” (Lucas, 1980). If you can’t turn your idea into a really well written, competitive, proposal in time, perhaps don’t.
  • Do you have your ducks in a row? Your collaborators and co-Is, your industry, government, or third sector partners lined up and on board? Are your impact plans ready? Or are you still scratching around for project partners while your competitors are polishing the fourth iteration of the complete application? Who are your rivals for this funding? Not relevant for ‘open’ calls, but for targeting schemes, who else is likely to be going for this?
  • Does what you want to do fit the call you’re considering applying for? Read the call, read it again, and then speak to your friendly neighbourhood Research Development professional and see if your understanding of the call matches hers. Why? Because it’s hard for researchers to read a call for proposals without seeing it through the lens of their own research priorities. Make sure others think it’s a good fit – don’t trust yourself or your co-Is to make that decision alone.
  • Is this the best use of your time right now? Might your time be better spent on impact, publishing papers from the last project, revising a dated module, running professional development courses?

A companion piece on the costs and benefits to researchers of applying for funding will be republished here next week.

USS Pensions Strike – Could deliberative democracy be a way out of the impasse?

“Freedom for the University of Tooting!”

My headline, unfortunately, is a classic QTWTAIN (‘question to which the answer is no’) because I can’t see any evidence that the employers want to negotiate or seek alternatives or engage in any meaningful way. You can find an admirably clear (and referenced) summary of the current situation at the time of writing here.

And if you want to read my previous wibblings from a previous dispute about why you should join the union, see the second half of this post.

All I’ll add is that we’ve been here before as regards pensions cuts… again and again and again… only previously it’s been salami slices, or at least compared to what’s being proposed now. These previous changes, we were told, would put the scheme back on the right track, and were necessary due to increased life expectancy etc and so on. So my question is… were those previous claims about past changes just straightforward lies, or have things got worse? And if they’ve got worse, is that wider economic conditions, or incompetence? And either way, why are the people responsible taking huge pay increases? Why is my pension scheme on the way to becoming a regular in the pages of Private Eye?

Anyway… I wanted to talk about deliberative democracy. I listened to a really interesting Reasons to be Cheerful podcast (presented by Ed Miliband and Geoff Lloyd) on deliberative democracy the other week. If we ask everyone what they think on a particular topic, the problem is that not everyone will be equally well informed, will have the necessary time to follow the arguments and find the evidence, or will come to the topic with an open mind. The idea of deliberative democracy is finding a small, representative group, giving them full access to the evidence and the arguments and expertise, and then, through deliberation, work towards a consensus decision if possible.

Trial by jury follows this model very closely, though we don’t typically think of a jury as an expression of democracy. These are twelve ordinary people, selected at random (with some exceptions and criteria), and trusted to follow the arguments in a criminal trial. But we regard this as fair, and as legitimate, and my perception is that there’s widespread faith in trial by jury as an institution.

Could we extend this to other issues? For example, the current strike action about cuts to the USS pension scheme. At the moment I’m reading a lot of criticism about the methods of calculation, the underpinning assumptions, and some very questionable motivations and methods of reaching and spinning decisions by Universities UK. But some of that criticism comes from people who aren’t experts in this area, but have relevant expertise in other related areas, or in areas that share a skill set. Such cognate-experts might well be right, but equally there might be good explanations for some of the peculiar-looking assumptions. In keeping with the Dunning-Kruger Effect, might such people be overestimating their own expertise and underestimating those of genuine experts? I don’t know.

Hence my interest in deliberative democracy… get a representative group of pension scheme members (academic and APM, a range of ages (including PhD students and retired staff), union and non-union members, a range of seniority and experience and subject area/specialism), give them access to experts and evidence, and let’s see what they come back with. A report from such a group that contends that, yes, the pension scheme is in trouble and an end to defined benefit is the only thing that will keep it sustainable, would have credibility and legitimacy. On the other hand, a report that came back with other options and which denied that case for the necessity for such a drastic step, would also be persuasive. This would be a decision by my peers who have taken more time and more trouble than I have, who have access to expertise and arguments and evidence, and who I would therefore trust.

“Down with this sort of thing!”

I strongly suspect that we have two very polarised actuarial valuations of the scheme – one, from the employers, which seems to me to be laughably flawed (but again, Dunning Kruger… what do I know?), and another, from UCU, which may turn out to be laughably optimistic. Point is, I don’t know, and I don’t want to make the mistake of assuming that the truth must lie somewhere in between.

One objection is that this might be little different to recent accusations about university Vice Chancellors sitting on the committees that set their salaries. However, a range of ages and career stages could mitigate against this – younger group members would surely resist any attempts to allow the scheme to limp on until older members are likely to be retired but which would leave them with little or nothing. We can also include information about affordability and HE finance in general to ensure that we don’t end up with recommendations that are completely unaffordable.I’d also like to think that those who chose careers in academia or in university management – in most cases ahead of more lucrative careers – have a commitment to the sector and its future.

And no-one’s saying that the report of such a group need be binding, but, a properly constituted group undertaking deliberative work with access to evidence and expertise would carry a great deal of authority and would be hard to be simply set aside. It’s an example of what John Rawls called ‘pure procedural justice‘. Its outcome is fair because it is set up and operates in a way that’s fair.

So I guess that’s my challenge to Universities UK and (to a lesser extent) the UCU too. If, UUK, your argument is that ‘There Is No Alternative’ (TINA) – which we’ve heard before, ad nausem – let’s see if that’s really the case. Their complete refusal to engage on the issue of the ending of defined benefit doesn’t bode well here, nor does the obvious disingenuous of offering “talks” while refusing to negotiate on the issue the strike is actually about. But let’s see if UCU’s claims bear scrutiny too. No-one is immune from wishful thinking, and some elements within UCU seem to enjoy being on strike a bit too much for my liking.

Because, frankly, I’d quite like (a) to get back to work; and (b) have some sort of security in retirement, and the same for generations of academics and APM staff to come.

My fictional heroes of research development (and perhaps university management more generally)

Consider this post a bit of an early Christmas indulgence, by which I mean largely ignore it..

As an undergraduate, I was very taken with Aristotelian ethics, and in particular ideas about character and about exemplars of moral excellences and other kinds of excellences (public speaking, bravery, charisma etc). Roughly, a good way to learn is to observe people who do certain things well and learn from their example. Conversely, one can also learn from people who are terrible at things, and avoid their mistakes. No-one’s so awful that they can’t at least serve as a bad example and as a warning to others. I remember later conversations about who the ultimate Aristotelian exemplar might be – in reality or in contemporary culture – with a lot of votes for Captains Kirk and Picard, leading to the merits of real life and therefore more complex figures taking second place to a who’s-your-favourite-Star-Trek-captain debate.

Years later, I fell to wondering who the exemplars are for research development, or perhaps university management/leadership/academic wrangling more generally. I could write about people who’ve influenced my thinking and my career, but instead, like the Star Trek fans, I’ve been distracted by fictional examples.

My first nomination comes via a 2012 Inside Higher Education blog post from ‘Dean Dad’ in the US, and is for Kermit the Frog. The nomination goes as follows:

[Kermit] keeps the show running, but it’s clear that he actually enjoys the Chaos Muppets and wants them to be able to do what they do.  His work makes it possible for Gonzo to jump through the flaming hoop with a chicken under his arm while reciting Shakespeare, even though Kermit would never do that himself.

Kermit endures snark from Statler and Waldorf in the balcony; let’s just say I get that.  And the few times that Kermit freaks out have much more impact than when, say, Animal does, because a freaked-out Kermit threatens the working of the show.  Freaking out is just what Animal does.

The nomination comes complete with a whole theory of academic management based on the Muppet Show. Muppets can be divided into ‘order’ and ‘chaos’ muppets, with ‘hard’ and ‘soft’ examples of each. Kermit is the epitome of a soft order muppet because he understands the importance of order and structure, but doesn’t enjoy it for its own sake and wants to help others to what they do best. I’d quite like to add “soft order muppet” to my email signature and even my office door sign, but I don’t think the world’s quite ready for that.

My second nomination is Sergeant Wilson of ‘Dad’s Army’, played by John Le Mesurier. Catchphrases include “would you mind awfully…” and the eventual title of a biography of JLeM: “Do you think that’s wise, sir?” He’s usually a model of subtle and understated influence, providing gentle but timely challenge to those set above him. Good humoured, unflappable, wise, and reassuring, he’s the ideal sergeant.

My third – more controversially – is Edmund Blackadder, and in particular Blackadder III. This exchange alone – when reviewing the Prince of Wales’ first draft of a love letter – makes him the patron fictional saint of research development staff.

“Would you mind if I changed  just one tiny aspect of it?”
“What’s that?”
“The words.”

Blackadder loses points for deviousness, more points for largely unsuccessful deviousness, consistent mistreatment of those he line manages, and general cynicism about and contempt for those in power. However, in the latter case, in his world, he’s got something of a point. But, as I said, exemplars can embody what not to do as well as what to do.

Next up, a trip to Fawlty Towers and Polly Sherman (Connie Booth, who also co-wrote the series), the voice of sanity (mostly) and a model of competence, dedication, and loyalty. She usually manages to keep her head while all around are losing theirs, and has a level of compassion, understanding, and tolerance for the eccentricities of those around her which the likes of Edmund Blackadder never reach.

Finally, one I’ve changed my mind over. Initially, it was Sir Humphrey Appleby (left), the Permanent Private Secretary in Yes (Prime) Minister, who was my nominee. While the Minister, Jim Hacker (centre), was all fresh ideas and act-without-thinking, Sir Humphrey was the voice of experience and the embodiment of institutional memory.

On reflection, though, the real hero is Bernard Woolley (right), the Principal Private Secretary. Sir Humphrey’s first priority is the civil service, and no academic management role model can put the cart before the horse in such a way. And more seriously, the ‘Sir Humphrey’ view of the civil service and of administration and management more generally is a reactionary, cynical, and highly damaging view. My Nottingham colleague Steven Fielding wrote an interesting piece about the effects of YM on perceptions of civil servants and cynicism about government. But he is an example of someone who has concluded that success/good governance isn’t possible without an effective and professional civil service, but then in seeking to defend the means, ends up forgetting the end. And that’s a kind of negative exemplar as well. Let’s none of us forget who we’re here for, or why. Kermit doesn’t think the Muppet Show is all about him.

Bernard Woolley, though, struggles to manage conflicted loyalties (multiple stakeholders and bottom lines), and is under pressure both from Jim Hacker, the government minister actually in charge of the Department, but only likely to have a very limited term of office – and Sir Humphrey, his rather more permanent boss with huge power of his career prospects. Anyone else ever felt like that – (temporary) Heads of School or Research Directors or other fixed-term academic leaders on one side, and more more permanent senior administrative, professional, and managerial colleagues on the other? People who won’t be stepping down inside eighteen months and returning, a good job well done, to their research and teaching?

Well, you may have felt like that, but I couldn’t possibly comment.

So… who have I missed? Who else deserves a mention? Kryten from Red Dwarf, perhaps? Smithers from the Simpsons? Bunk Moreland from The Wire?

Prêt-à-non-portability? Implications and possible responses to the phasing out of publication portability

“How much as been decided about the REF? About this much. And how much of the REF period is there to go? Well, again…

Last week Recently, I attended an Open Forum Events one day conference with the slightly confusing title ‘Research Impact: Strengthening the Excellence Framework‘ and gave a short presentation with the same title as this blog post. It was a very interesting event with some great speakers (and me), and I was lucky enough to meet up with quite a few people I only previously ‘knew’ through Twitter. I’d absolutely endorse Sarah Hayes‘ blogpost for Research Whisperer about the benefits of social media for networking for introverts.

Oh, and if you’re an academic looking for something approaching a straightforward explanation about the REF, can I recommend Charlotte Mathieson‘s excellent blog post. For those of you after in-depth half-baked REF policy stuff, read on…

I was really pleased with how the talk went – it’s one thing writing up summaries and knee-jerk analyses for a mixed audience of semi-engaged academics and research development professionals, but it’s quite another giving a REF-related talk to a room full of REF experts. It was based in part on a previous post I’ve written on portability but my views (and what we know about the REF) has moved on since then, so I thought I’d have a go at summarising the key points.

I started by briefly outlining the problem and the proposed interim arrangements before looking at the key principles that needed to form part of any settled solution on portability for the REF after next.

Why non-portability? What’s the problem?

I addressed most of this in my previous post, but I think the key problem is that it turns what ought to be something like a football league season into an Olympic event. With a league system, the winner is whoever earns the most points over a long, drawn out season. Three points is three points, whatever stage of the season it comes in. With Olympic events, it’s all about peaking at the right time during the cycle – and in some events within the right ten seconds of that cycle. Both are valid as sporting competition formats, but for me, Clive the REF should be more like a league season than to see who can peak best on census day. And that’s what the previous REF rules encourages – fractional short term appointments around the census date; bulking out the submission then letting people go afterwards; rent-seeking behaviour from some academics holding their institution to ransom; poaching and instability, transfer window effects on mobility; and panic buying.

If the point of the REF is to reward sustained excellence over the previous REF cycle with funding to institutions to support research over the next REF cycle, surely it’s a “league season” model we should be looking at, not an Olympic model. The problem with portability is that it’s all about who each unit of assessment has under contract and able to return at the time, even if that’s not a fair reflection of their average over the REF cycle. So if a world class researcher moves six months before the REF census date, her new institution would get REF credit for all of her work over the last REF cycle, and the one which actually paid her salary would get nothing in REF terms. Strictly speaking, this isn’t a problem of publication portability, it’s a problem of publication non-retention. Of which more later.

I summarised what’s being proposed as regards portability as a transition measure in my ‘Initial Reactions‘ post, but briefly by far most likely outcome for this REF is one that retains full portability and full retention. In other words, when someone moves institution, she takes her publications with her and leaves them behind. I’m going to follow Phil Ward of Fundermentals and call these Schrodinger’s Publications, but as HEFCE point out, plenty of publications were returned multiple times by multiple institutions in the last REF, as each co-author could return it for her institution. It would be interesting to see what proportion of publications were returned multiple times, and what the record is for the number of times that a single publication has been submitted.

Researcher Mobility is a Good Thing

Marie Curie and Mr Spock have more in common than radiation-related deaths – they’re both examples of success through researcher mobility. And researcher mobility is important – it spreads ideas and methods, allows critical masses of expertise to be formed. And researchers are human too, and are likely to need to relocate for personal reasons, are entitled to seek better paid work and better conditions, and might – like any other employee – just benefit from a change of scene.

For all these reasons, future portability rules need to treat mobility as positive, and as a human right. We need to minimise ‘transfer window’ effects that force movement into specific stages of the REF cycle – although it’s worth noting that plenty of other professions have transfer windows – teachers, junior doctors (I think), footballers, and probably others too.

And for this reason, and for reasons of fairness, publications from staff who have departed need to be assessed in exactly the same way as publications from staff who are still employed by the returning UoA. Certainly no UoA should be marked down or regarded as living on past glories for returning as much of the work of former colleagues as they see fit.

Render unto Caesar

Institutions are entitled to a fair return on investment in terms of research, though as I mentioned earlier, it’s not portability that’s the problem here so much as non-retention. As Fantasy REF Manager I’m not that bothered by someone else submitting some of my departed star player’s work written on my £££, but I’m very much bothered if I can’t get any credit for it. Universities are given funding on the basis of their research performance as evaluated through the previous REF cycle to support their ongoing endeavors in the next one. This is a really strong argument for publication retention, and it seems to me to be the same argument that underpins impact being retained by the institution.

However, there is a problem which I didn’t properly appreciate in my previous writings on this. It’s the investment/divestment asymmetry issue, as absolutely no-one except me is calling it. It’s an issue not for the likely interim solution, but for the kind of full non-portability system we might have for the REF after next.

In my previous post I imagined a Fantasy REF Manager operating largely a one-in, one-out policy – thus I didn’t need new appointee’s publications because I got to keep their predecessors. And provided that staff mobility was largely one-in, one-out, that’s fine. But it’s less straightforward if it’s not. At the moment the University of Nottingham is looking to invest in a lot of new posts around specific areas (“beacons”) of research strength – really inspiring projects, such as the new Rights Lab which aims to help end modern slavery. And I’m sure plenty of other institutions have similar plans to create or expand areas of critical mass.

Imagine a scenario where I as Fantasy REF Manager decide to sack a load of people  immediately prior to the REF census date. Under the proposed rules I get to return all of their publications and I can have all of the income associated for the duration of the next REF cycle – perhaps seven years funding. On the other hand, if I choose to invest in extra posts that don’t merely replace departed staff, it could be a very long time before I see any return, via REF funding at least. It’s not just that I can’t return their publications that appeared before I recruited them, it’s that the consequences of not being able to return a full REF cycle’s worth of publications will have funding implications for the whole of the next REF cycle. The no-REF-disincentive-to-divest and long-lead-time-for-REF-reward-for-investment looks lopsided and problematic.

I’m a smart Fantasy REF Manager, it means I’ll save up my redundancy axe wielding (at worst) or recruitment freeze (at best) for the end of the REF cycle, and I’ll be looking to invest only right at the beginning of the REF cycle. I’ve no idea what the net effect of all this will be repeated across the sector, but it looks to me as if non-portability just creates new transfer windows and feast and famine around recruitment. And I’d be very worried if universities end up delaying or cancelling or scaling back major strategic research investments because of a lack of REF recognition in terms of new funding.

Looking forward: A settled portability policy

A few years back, HEFCE issued some guidance about Open Access and its place in the coming REF. They did this more or less ‘without prejudice’ to any other aspect of the REF – essentially, whatever the rest of the REF looks like, these will be the open access rules. And once we’ve settled the portability rules for this time (almost certainly using the Schrodinger’s publications model), I’d like to see them issue some similar ‘without prejudice’ guidelines for the following REF.

I think it’s generally agreed that the more complicated but more accurate model that would allow limited portability and full retention can’t be implemented at such short notice. But perhaps something similar could work with adequate notice and warning for institutions to get the right systems in place, which was essentially the point of the OA announcement.

I don’t think a full non-portability full-retention system as currently envisaged could work without some finessing, and every bid of finessing for fairness comes at the cost of complication.  As well as the investment-divestment asymmetry problem outlined above, there are other issues too.

The academic ‘precariat’ – those on fixed term/teaching only/fractional/sessional contracts need special rules. An institution employing someone to teach one module with no research allocation surely shouldn’t be allowed to return that person’s publications. One option would be to say something like ‘teaching only’ = full portability, no retention; and ‘fixed term with research allocation’ = the Schrodinger system of publications being retained and being portable. Granted this opens the door to other games to be played (perhaps turning down a permanent contract to retain portability?) but I don’t think these are as serious as current games, and I’m sure could be finessed.

While I argued previously that career young researchers had more to gain than to lose from a system whereby appointments are made more on potential rather than track record, the fact that so many are as concerned as they are means that there needs to be some sort of reassurance or allowance for those not in permanent roles.

Disorder at the border. What happens about publications written on Old Institution’s Time, but eventually published under New Institution’s affiliation? We can also easily imagine publication filibustering whereby researchers delay publication to maximise their position in the job market. Not only are delays in publication bad for science, but there’s also the potential for inappropriate pressure to be applied by institutions to hold something back/rush something out. It could easily put researchers in an impossible position, and has the potential to poison relationships with previous employers and with new ones. Add in the possible effects of multiple job moves on multi-author publications and this gets messy very quickly.

One possible response to this would be to allow a portability/retention window that goes two ways – so my previous institution could still return my work published (or accepted) up to (say) a year after my official leave date. Of course, this creates a lot of admin, but it’s entirely up to my former institution whether it thinks that it’s worth tracking my publications once I’ve gone.

What about retired staff? As far as I can see there’s nothing in any documents about the status of the publications of retired staff either in this REF or in any future plans. The logic should be that they’re returnable in the same way as those of any other researcher who has left during the REF period. Otherwise we’ll end up with pressure to say on and perhaps other kinds of odd incentives not to appoint people who retire before the end of a REF cycle.

One final suggestion…

One further half-serious suggestion… if we really object to game playing, perhaps the only fair to properly reward excellent research and impact and to minimise game playing is to keep the exact rules of REF a secret for as long as possible in each cycle. Forcing institutions just to focus on “doing good stuff” and worrying less about gaming the REF.

  • If you’re really interested, you can download a copy of my presentation … but if you weren’t there, you’ll just have to wonder about the blank page…