Helen Lancaster

Almost two decades ago, the then Federal Minister for Employment, Education and Training, John Dawkins proposed marriage among tertiary institutions on the premise that bigger makes for better economics in the higher education sector. Dawkins" policy required all institutions with fewer than 2000 students to amalgamate with universities. Although not the primary target, specialist institutions like conservatoriums fell well inside the quota. Despite substantial resistance, the green paper became policy with such speed that academics asked (with more derision than mirth) '"How do you turn a green paper into a white paper? Just photocopy it!""[1]

The shotgun marriages initiated by this Dawkins policy brought considerable change to conservatoriums in Australia.[2] Caught in the crush of Colleges of Advanced Education rushing for university membership, conservatoriums then outside the university sector had no option but to marry into it. These marriages may have been forced, but they were certainly not arranged. There was however, a dowry for successful suitor universities, in the form of special subsidies and capital grants: plenty of motivation for universities, but none for conservatoriums. Given no guidance in choosing their future partners, and in the absence of romance, very few conservatoriums were blessed with happy outcomes. Some, like Sydney Conservatorium and the University of Sydney"s Music Department, experienced long-term problems. The consequences didn"t stop with those conservatoriums forced to find new partners: those already within CAEs found themselves married by default, and even those previously located inside universities suffered from the restructuring which inevitably followed the resultant collectives.

Thus it was with Elder Conservatorium. Elder had always been part of the University family. Nonetheless, it was one of the significant casualties of the 1988 Higher Education Policy, due to the marriage between the South Australian College of Advanced Education and the University of Adelaide. The resultant faculty restructures placed the Elder Conservatorium within the new Faculty of Performing Arts. For seven years, there was no Elder Professor of Music, and the resulting reduction in rank of the Conservatorium within the University hierarchy – however temporary -- clearly demonstrated the significance of organisational status and leadership within an institutional relationship.

Such ramifications occurred because most of these forced relationships happened in reverse order. Married before they became physically intimate, adjustments were inevitable and there were shocks all round for the different cultures of universities and conservatoriums. Few experienced courtship until the divide between them became impassable, and even fewer enjoyed a honeymoon. Those who celebrated successful marriages found that it was only a matter of time before they too experienced some of the marital differences other conservatoriums had encountered from the start. Now there are rumours of divorce.

It was reported in 3^rd Column (Music Forum 12/4) that Professor Malcolm Gillies, Deputy Vice-Chancellor at ANU, had raised the issue at the beginning of 2006. Why is that significant? A respected musicologist, Gillies is a former Head of Music at the University of Queensland. Moreover, from his (former) senior management position at the University of Adelaide, he steered the good ship Elder through the rough seas of the post-amalgamation nineties, in a curious journey which rocked the Elder Conservatorium even though it was already an established part of the University family. Having watched the relationships from various viewpoints, Gillies should know. His actions since (as catalyst for the establishment of CHASS) demonstrate a clear understanding of the need for stronger representation of the arts and humanities in the tertiary sector. It"s not hard to speculate on a relationship between this advocacy and the experience of the nineties.

Professor Gillies is not alone in raising the subject. According to 3^rd Column, the heads of music institutions recently discussed the issue in a meeting in May 2006. That wasn"t the first time. Many of them expressed frustrations resulting from amalgamation matters in surveys and individual interviews conducted over the period 2002-2004.[3] The data from this research clearly demonstrated that amalgamations brought considerable consequences for educational programs, resources, community outreach, and most particularly on the role and status of the leaders of music institutions.

Grounds for divorce

From within Australian conservatoriums, it would be very tempting to recall the single life. Before amalgamation, conservatoriums weren"t by any means prosperous, but most had control over their own destinies – financial and otherwise. Their different culture was their strength – their focus was a vocational style of music training for performers and composers. Many were part of the cultural infrastructure of their communities, providing valuable opportunities for students to perform. Within the university sector, the clarity and consistency of this focus on performance is threatened by a more comprehensive academic culture, and by the links between research and funding which have conservatoriums scrambling to establish undertake research relevant to their performance culture.

It didn"t take long before any chance of a honeymoon was over. By the late nineties, conservatoriums were reporting restructuring, some of them more than once! Research among Australian conservatoriums recorded that more than 50% were still involved in restructuring one decade after amalgamation. With the changes in structure came reductions in decision-making, particularly financial decision-making. By 2004, 90% of Australian conservatorium leaders had experienced such reductions. It was the universities doing to their faculties and schools what Canberra had done to them – finances decided by executives removed from where the real work is done. [4] Consequently, a decade after amalgamation the heads of Australian music institutions voted funding as the highest ranking challenge they were facing at the time.[5] By then, all were required to find new sources of financial support, and 45% of them had experienced cuts in funding from their respective universities. A year later, only 22% of conservatorium leaders had any discretionary power over their budgets, and as one claimed 'If you can"t control the budget, there"s nothing much you can do!" [6] One leader referred to 'shuffling priorities", another to having 'no sense of control over what we"re doing". Others indicated that so little discretionary funding was available, it didn"t mean much: 'We"re not talking massive amounts here!" Conservatoriums became dependent on raising external funds, without which they had no flexibility for new initiatives and in some cases had difficulty in maintaining current programs. As one informant explained, 'We have to get our student numbers up to where we can justify having those [faculty] positions. It"s going to be very hard."[7] In one desperate appeal, one leader wrote 'Please, no more cuts ". For once in my life I want to work somewhere which is not being slashed!" [8]

These trends were confirmed by a survey conducted by the Australian Music Centre in 2004. Because the root of most problems was financial, this project asked conservatorium leaders 'In what ways (if at all) has your institution been affected by funding issues?" The highest levels of response were in difficulty maintaining resources (81%), the need to locate non-government funding (88%), recruiting fee-paying students (81%) and an increased emphasis on research programs (77%).

By hiding Australian conservatoriums inside universities, the government has conveniently left the decision of what they"re worth up to each individual university. Arrangements negotiated vary enormously and in some cases, it"s an exaggeration to imply that the structure allows the conservatorium any negotiating power at all.

Having financial decisions taken at executive level limits the understanding of potential consequences. Thus, conservatorium leaders are now forced to defend the core tradition of individual tuition for music students in a faculty which teaches students by the hundred. A few universities understand; most don"t. Even those which claim they do have trimmed down their level of understanding in recent years. When Queensland Conservatorium first amalgamated with Griffith University in 1991, the University committed to maintaining funding to the Conservatorium at the same level it had previously received. At that time, it was the highest rate of funding received by any of the Australian conservatoriums post-amalgamation. Fifteen years later, the figure has been significantly reduced whilst costs have increased, giving a net decline of considerable proportions. Yet, in comparison to most of its peer institutions, the Queensland Conservatorium still has a relatively high level of funding per student.

By way of comparison, conservatoriums in the United Kingdom receive 'premium funding" of c.£13,000 per student, approximately three times higher than the best-funded conservatoriums in Australia. And that"s before factoring in the dismal exchange rate! Conservatoriums in the UK are funded directly by the central funding body for higher education. With only one exception, they do not belong to universities. Some take advantage of affiliations with university partners, but they are not governed by them. These institutions produce musicians alongside whom Australian graduates will be measured.

It"s not that funding is the only problem for Australian conservatoriums, it"s simply that without sufficient resources, programs suffer. Conservatoriums have reduced their teaching weeks to better fit within university timeframes. Fewer teaching weeks mean fewer individual teaching hours, so the budget benefits but the students don"t. In some institutions, the one-hour lesson has been compacted into 45 or 50 minutes. Same number of lessons, fewer hours. And then there"s the core business of producing performances which provide experience for the performers of the future. Laboratory work within the sciences might be acceptable within university budgetary guidelines, but an opera production is harder to argue with an executive intent on cutting costs. The halcyon days of Queensland Conservatorium"s internationally-acclaimed production of Britten"s Billy Budd are unlikely to return.

Changing governance patterns have also reduced non-financial decision-making powers for most conservatorium leaders in Australia. Whilst twenty years ago, conservatorium leaders generally had control over most matters related to their institutions, very few now maintain that role, 88% reporting significant changes in governance post-amalgamation. Although it is acknowledged that being a successful musician does not automatically translate to being a good leader, conservatoriums continue to seek respected artists for leadership positions. In 25 advertisements for conservatorium leaders in the period 1995-2005, all required the incumbent to be a musician of high standing. In some ways, this lack of management experience adds fuel to the university argument to place decision-making in the hands of executives. And so the spiral continues.

Having a senior management role within the university benefits a school in many ways but a decade after amalgamations, only 10% of Australian leaders remained in such roles and the decline continues. From 2007, Kim Walker will be the only conservatorium leader to hold the status of Dean of a faculty. The Faculty of Music at Melbourne University has been in a holding pattern with Catherine Falk as Acting Dean since Warren Bebbington took his extensive senior management experience into chancellery in 2005. At the end of 2006, Charles Bodman Rae will relinquish the role of Dean and Director of Elder Conservatorium, retaining his substantive position as Elder Professor. A Director will be appointed, but the role of Dean (and the financial decision-making it implies) will no longer apply to the Elder Conservatorium.

Such has been the trend in governance across Australian conservatoriums. A typical example is that of the Central Queensland Conservatorium of Music, which is now located within the Faculty of Education and Creative Arts of Central Queensland University (CQU). Since 2004, the leader of the CQCM has had the title of 'Sub Dean", responsible for academic management but with no effective budgetary control or decision-making power. A comparison with the status of the two former leaders gives a clear picture of the impact restructuring can have on a musical organisation. Former leader Greg Whateley (2000-2004) was called 'Director" and played a senior leadership role within the Faculty to which the conservatorium now belongs. As Foundation Director (1996-1999) I had the title of 'Director" and was one of the senior managers of the University reporting directly to Chancellery. At that time, the CQCM was a separate college, outside the faculty structure. Thus, within the short period of only 5 years (1999-2004), the CQCM status and bargaining power within the parent university was considerably reduced, with a parallel diminution of the leader"s role. Curiously, there was a brief period in 2005 when Professor Jim Mienzakowski resurrected the title of Director. Formerly Dean of Education and Creative Arts, his cameo role as Director of the CQCM brought a reduction in status for him, balanced by his not having to relocate to the Conservatorium"s main facility in Mackay. Since his predicted departure, the role of Sub Dean has been restored. The incumbent, Judith Brown, is required to represent the CQCM whilst maintaining her teaching load and a considerable commitment to performance. No promotion recognises this dedication. Examples such as this demonstrate a university"s capacity to manipulate power over a conservatorium and its personnel.

The grounds for divorce? The core interests of conservatoriums are at risk, they are forced to operate without sufficient resources, and their expertise in decision-making is ignored by their partner universities. Locked into a relationship where the partner"s interests come first, conservatoriums are without power to respond to opportunities which fall outside the agreed university framework. In short, they do not have the freedom to do their work as well as they might. The impact is greatest for students and the local communities.

Grounds for marriage

In the case of the Australian Higher Education Policy of 1988, the grounds for marriage were primarily economic. By rationalising the two-tiered system into one university sector, Dawkins expected to reduce costs – at least to the government. Beyond the Federal coffers, the benefit is less obvious. As the argument goes, the big winners were to be the students. Amalgamations with universities provided conservatorium students with a greater diversity of study options, and better library access. But any good lawyer could expose holes in that suggestion. Apart from the initial disruption during the time of transition and those early stages as conservatoriums learned how to work within the university system, the reality is that these advantages are to some degree superfluous. The majority of conservatorium students are far too focused on their conservatorium work to add in another discipline, and the intensity of conservatorium timetables simply make it impossible. As for the libraries, the access was always there via inter-library loans. It may be better for the librarians, but for the students the difference is minimal.

Those conservatoriums which have embraced research with enthusiasm would argue that research has changed the conservatorium ineradicably. Performers are being encouraged to investigate, map and analyse the process of musical practice, and methods of transmitting that practice from one generation to the next. Director of Queensland Conservatorium"s Research Centre, Huib Schippers says that the real challenge for conservatoriums is 'to embrace the fact that music is a dynamic phenomenon and not something you can fix in time." [9] The mindset that performance is handed from master to apprentice in some magical process is disappearing. There may be advantages in this new emphasis on research, but the danger lies in the dependence on research for additional funding. Unfortunately, the race for supplementary funds via research brings its own financial responsibilities, and the core business of the conservatorium – performance – is rarely the recipient.

The idea that conservatoriums need universities to award degrees is simply fallacious. Academic awards were standard outcomes for conservatorium students for a decade before amalgamation, so having a degree is hardly a product of amalgamation. The difference lies in the loss of flexibility which has coincided with the conservatorium entry into the university sector. Previously, some emerging young musicians used the conservatorium as a holding point whilst waiting for professional opportunities. The talented ones came and went with much less fuss, and little predictability. 'They could study as long as they wanted, and they didn"t finish their degrees, and they started a career and they could [gain] their diploma [doing that]. " It"s a different world " compared with those days when everything was possible. You could stay for as long as you wanted to be there and study whatever you wanted." [10]

Structure may not be a bad thing, and it doesn"t necessarily eliminate the opportunity for professional experience. Some conservatoriums now have placement opportunities which offer emerging young professionals the chance for work experience in a way more formalised than the previous do-it-yourself method. Universities are certainly very pleased to promote the successes of their students, even those who are musicians.

It is the current emphasis on Vocational Education and Training (VET) in Australia which offers the most promising opportunity for conservatoriums to consider divorce from the university sector. Having rediscovered the usefulness of vocational training, the Federal Government is now ploughing encouragement via subsidy into vocational programs, including those which overlap with the final years of secondary schooling. If conservatoriums could find ways to utilise that transition beyond the identification of gifted musicians (some of whom currently benefit from early transition into conservatorium programs), there may be a goldmine of government support which would make divorce feasible.

To divorce or not to divorce?

That is the question. Groucho Marx wisely suggested that marriage is the chief cause of divorce. In the case of universities and conservatoriums, he is spot on. Economics were the argument for marriage, and they form the strongest argument for divorce. The only difference is the viewpoint. Fifteen years on, the Federal Government would be pleased with the economic outcomes of the amalgamations. Conservatoriums and universities may see it differently. Like many hopeful couples who rush into marriage, they began their marriages without really understanding one another, and now that they have developed something of an understanding, the similarities and differences are more obvious than before. For conservatoriums, the single life beckons. But as any good relationships counselor might ask, is that enough?

What has fifteen years of marriage done to the conservatorium culture? According to 82% of informants, it has changed it dramatically. The goal of training musicians may remain, but the methods are different. There is less flexibility, less ability to respond quickly to opportunities which may present themselves. The culture has become more entrenched in academic practice than vocational training. It is now more bureaucratic than before. Furthermore, over the space of the last fifteen years, conservatoriums have lost some of the significant elder statespeople, those for whom the traditional conservatorium culture was paramount. The institutional memory is different. Constantly evolving, music is now different. The question might well be whether the contemporary conservatorium would know how to act as it did before, once divorced? Or, with the benefit of a different experience, would it take a different path?

The Royal Conservatory of Music in Canada offers an interesting example. After seventy years of marriage, it was divorced from the University of Toronto in 1991. Operating on a model of interrelated business units, it is now a very different institution from its former traditional self, indelibly changed by time and experience. Even the names of the units are telling, for example, 'Affiliate Teacher Services", and 'Community and Professional Schools." [11]

Among the diversity of conservatorium programs now available in Australia – from purely pop music to traditional operatic and orchestral training – it may well be that if there was to be a divorce, the real winners would be the contemporary-minded conservatoriums. With the exception of Southern Cross University"s music department, those are the ones which did not even exist pre-amalgamation. Would the traditional programs benefit from divorce? For the few elite, the benefit of flexibility might return. But for most future musicians, the diversity currently available seems invaluable, and it would need to remain effective through any separation. It appears inevitable that the musician of the future needs to be viable in a climate of increasing contact with popular forms. Changes in societal expectations of music, adjusting patterns of participation and access, redefinition of the role of the musician and of performance, and transformation of the music industry have shifted the conservatorium into a context very different from that pre-amalgamation.

Before conservatoriums head for the divorce courts, there are practical considerations. One can only apply for divorce in Australia after you have been separated for at least 12 months. Arguably, many conservatoriums and their partner universities might agree that they have been living separately under one roof for longer than they care to calculate. Then there"s the potential case for compensation for damages, one which might be explored by both parties. Even if the partners agree to an amicable divorce, the question remains as to whether the Australian conservatorium has the capacity (or the will) to return to the model from whence it came? History has changed the Australian conservatorium sector far more than it has those in other parts of the world. It is in Australia alone that one might find a state-funded conservatorium which has totally abandoned tradition – one dedicated solely to popular music, or creative industries, or to contemporary cross-artform practice.

Those who have experienced divorce might understand the question of whether the potential it offers is worth the exercise itself. If they were to divorce their university partners, would the current Australian higher education sector support conservatoriums in a manner any better than they receive now?

Helen Lancaster is a freelance academic and writer. Her PhD, Leading Conservatoria Through Change explored conservatorium programs and leadership in conservatoriums around the world.