THE OUTSIDE WITHIN: HETERONOMY IN THE TRAINING OF FOREST RESEARCHERS by Brigitte Gemme B.A., Université du Québec à Montréal, 2000 M.A., Université du Québec à Montréal, 2003 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in The Faculty of Graduate Studies (Educational Studies) THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA (Vancouver) August 2009 ©Brigitte Gemme, 2009 II ii ABSTRACT This study of research training in the University of British Columbia’s Faculty of Forestry is framed by Bourdieu’s theory of fields. Drawing from quantitative and qualitative sources of evidence, the study documents the training of recruits in a research field that is not autonomous (self-governed) but heteronomous (governed by others). UBC Forestry plays a key role in the reproduction of the field of forest research. The field of forest research is the social space located at the intersection of the scientific field (where scientists conduct systematic inquiry) and the forest sector (where companies, government, and others decide on the use of forests and their products). Forest research is not governed by its own rules but rather by the combined logics of its two parent fields. At stake in the field is the capacity to mobilize leading science to identify pathways to the solution of pressing forest-related problems. The Faculty of Forestry and its members rely on various forms of capital from both the scientific field and the forest sector, embracing research problems with social, economic, political, and environmental implications, and collaboration with other organizations. The faculty members, adjunct professors, and graduate students involved in the reproduction of the field of forest research come to Forestry with diverse disciplinary and professional backgrounds. Most research projects involve non-academic partners, and the impact of this involvement on students varies according to the partners’ involvement in research. The autonomy of students varies according to the ratio between the volume and forms of the capital they bring and the total capital required by their projects. Most students undertake a Master’s or Ph.D. degree program after observing a gap between their aspirations and the positions available to them. Their problematic relationship to their position of origin makes them likely to incorporate the habitus of forest research. As their training progresses, the majority of students become aligned with the field of forest research and aim to continue addressing forest-sector problems with the means of science. Some, however, strategically use their research training to launch or improve a different career. III iii TABLE OF CONTENTS Abstract .............................................................................................................................. ii Table of Contents ............................................................................................................. iii List of Tables ..................................................................................................................... v List of Figures .................................................................................................................. vii List of Acronyms ............................................................................................................ viii Acknowledgements .......................................................................................................... ix Chapter 1 Introduction................................................................................................... 1 Reasons to research ......................................................................................................... 3 A word on definitions ...................................................................................................... 9 Structure of the dissertation ........................................................................................... 11 Chapter 2 Conceptual Approach and Study Design .................................................. 14 Bourdieu’s theory of fields ............................................................................................ 15 Methodology and study design ..................................................................................... 33 The author in space ....................................................................................................... 49 Chapter 3 Heteronomous Forces in Research Training ............................................ 52 Defining research training ............................................................................................. 53 The traditional apprenticeship model of research training ............................................ 54 Cooperative research: a “new” context for training? .................................................... 64 Discussion ..................................................................................................................... 83 Chapter 4 The Faculty of Forestry in Its Social Space .............................................. 87 Context surrounding the emergence of forest education and research .......................... 89 Acquisition and display of capital ................................................................................. 95 Discussion ................................................................................................................... 148 Chapter 5 Life Before Forestry ................................................................................. 152 Faculty members ......................................................................................................... 154 Adjunct professors ....................................................................................................... 169 Graduate students ........................................................................................................ 183 Discussion ................................................................................................................... 210 IV iv Chapter 6 Convergence of Capitals and Student Positions .................................... 217 Professors’ work: aligning research and resources ..................................................... 218 The determinants of student autonomy ....................................................................... 233 Is the forest research game worth playing? ................................................................. 249 Possible futures ........................................................................................................... 256 Discussion ................................................................................................................... 267 Chapter 7 Conclusion ................................................................................................. 270 Summary of the study ................................................................................................. 272 Limitations and opportunities for further research ...................................................... 285 Implications ................................................................................................................. 288 Bibliography .................................................................................................................. 293 Appendices ..................................................................................................................... 304 Appendix 1 Certificate of Approval .......................................................................... 305 Appendix 2 Authorization form for lab head (faculty member) ............................... 307 Appendix 3 Consent Form – Observation (All Lab Members) ................................. 309 Appendix 4 Consent form – Interview and shadowing (Graduate Students) ............ 312 Appendix 5 Consent form - Interviews (Non-Students) ........................................... 315 Appendix 6 Interview grid – Graduate students within sampled labs ....................... 317 Appendix 7 Interview grid – Non-graduate students ................................................ 319 V v LIST OF TABLES Table 1 Primary status of interviewees at the time of their first interview ....................................47 Table 2 Major donors to the “World of Opportunity” and “Growing for the Future” fundraising campaigns and corresponding rooms .............................................................................................99 Table 3 Branchlines newsletter cover-page article titles, 2004 to 2009 ......................................109 Table 4 Journals with at least 5 articles by UBC Forestry faculty members, SCI, SCCI and AHCI, 2001-2005 .........................................................................................................................125 Table 5 Discipline of articles published by UBC Forestry faculty members, by department, SCI, SSCI and AHCI, 2001-2005 .........................................................................................................127 Table 6 Articles published in forest-specific journals, by department, SCI, SSCI and AHCI, 2001-2005 .....................................................................................................................................128 Table 7 Degree of application of the journals in which UBC Forestry articles are published, SCI, SSCI and AHCI, 2001-2005 .........................................................................................................129 Table 8 Types of organizations associated with signatures of UBC Forestry faculty members’ publications, by department, SCI, SSCI and AHCI, 2001-2005 ..................................................130 Table 9 Organizations associated with signatures of UBC Forestry faculty members’ publications, five or more signatures, SCI, SSCI and AHCI, 2001-2005 ....................................131 Table 10 Organizations associated with signatures of UBC Forestry faculty members’ publications, three or more signatures, by department, SCI, SSCI and AHCI, 2001-2005 ..........132 Table 11 Patents filed and issued, invention disclosures and intellectual property agreements, by faculty, UBC, 2004-2008 (preliminary data) ................................................................................134 Table 12 Research funding by department or unit of the Faculty of Forestry, 2002-2003 to 2006- 2007 ..............................................................................................................................................137 Table 13 Agencies/programs contributing over $1 million in research funds to the Faculty of Forestry, 2002-2003 to 2006-2007 ...............................................................................................138 Table 14 Top 50 agencies/programs funding research in Forestry, by department, in dollars, 2002-2003 to 2006-2007 ..............................................................................................................139 Table 15 Research funding at the University of British Columbia, per top-level unit, in dollars, 2006 ..............................................................................................................................................145 Table 16 Male and female faculty members in the UBC Faculty of Forestry, by department, 2007-2008 .....................................................................................................................................155 Table 17 Country of Ph.D. of UBC Forestry faculty members, by department ..........................155 Table 18 Clusters of themes observed in UBC Forestry faculty members’ profiles ...................157 Table 19 Random sample of Forestry faculty members’ publications, 2007-2008 .....................159 VI vi Table 20 UBC Forestry faculty members with at least three years of non-academic work experience .....................................................................................................................................161 Table 21 UBC Forestry faculty members reporting consulting activities ...................................162 Table 22 Primary affiliation of adjunct faculty members, by department, UBC Faculty of Forestry, 2007-2008 .....................................................................................................................171 Table 23 Presence of adjunct faculty members and other non-academics at Master’s defences and doctoral final examinations, UBC Faculty of Forestry, 2007-2009 .............................................172 Table 24 Distribution of the UBC Forestry graduate program alumni by type of degree and sector of employment and type of program (partial data) .......................................................................258 VII vii LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1 Homepage of the Faculty of Forestry’s web site...........................................................103 Figure 2 Graduate programs’ page on the Faculty of Forestry web site......................................105 Figure 3 Posters for research seminars in the Faculty of Forestry, Fall of 2008 .........................114 Figure 4 Global Tea House Talk Series sample poster................................................................115 Figure 5 Extramural funding of UBC Forestry, by source, in dollars, 1992-1993 to 2007-2008 ......................................................................................................................................................136 Figure 6 Graduate students in Master’s and Ph.D. programs, 1991-1992 to 2007-2008 ..........184 Figure 7 Graduate students, by sex, 1991-1992 to 2007-2008 ...................................................185 Figure 8 Graduate students at AUFSC member schools, 2000-2001 to 2006-2007...................186 Figure 9 Funding of graduate students, by type of source, in dollars, 1991-1992 to 2004-2005 ......................................................................................................................................................187 VIII viii LIST OF ACRONYMS APRA Australian Postgraduate Research Awards AUFSC Association of University Forestry Schools of Canada BMP Bourses en milieu de pratique CAWP Centre for Advanced Wood Processing CIFOR Center for International Forestry Research CIFRE Conventions industrielles de formation par la recherche CIHR Canadian Institutes of Health Research CRC Cooperative Research Centre FCAR Fonds pour la Formation des chercheurs et l’aide à la recherche FQRNT Fonds québécois de recherche sur la nature et les technologies FQRSC Fonds québécois de recherche sur la société et la culture FRBC Forest Renewal British Columbia FSC Forest Sciences Centre FSP Forest Science Program MITACS Mathematics of Information Technology and Complex Systems NSERC Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council SSHRC Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council UBC The University of British Columbia WFPL Western Forest Products Laboratory IX ix ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This study would not have been possible without the generous support of the Canada Graduate Scholarship program of the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, of the Pacific Century Graduate Scholarship of the Province of British Columbia, and of the Scott Paper Graduate Fellowship. SSHRC further supported this project through a grant awarded to Yves Gingras at the Centre interuniversitaire de recherche sur la science et la technologie (Montreal). My committee members – professors Donald Fisher, Amy Metcalfe, Michelle Stack, and Yves Gingras – trusted and encouraged me throughout the whole endeavour, and I am grateful for their support. University examiners André Mazawi and Graeme Wynn, as well as external examiner Michel Trépanier, offered thoughtful questions and constructive feedback. For providing me with all I needed along the way, including technical help, friendship, and intellectual companionship, I would also like to thank Roweena Bacchus, Caroline Berggren, Simon Blakesley, Claude Julie Bourque, Alexandre Bourque-Viens, Ani Castonguay, Lucie Comeau, Sierra Curtis-McLane, Marie-Andrée Desgagnés, Martine Foisy, Jamie Hall, Amy Christina Hammock, Isabeau Iqbal, Dilek Kayaalp, Sarah Klain, Sonnet L’Abbé, Danielle Labbé, Vincent Larivière, Carolina Palacios, Michelle Pidgeon, Julien Phalip, Tasha Riley, Shermila Salgadoe, Suzanne Scott, Judith Walker, Ee-Seul Yoon, and Jeannie Young. I am also grateful to my family and friends in Vancouver and Montreal, and in particular to my husband Chris Conklin, who offered unwavering support and countless attentions. The graduate students, faculty members, staff, and administrators of UBC’s Faculty of Forestry never ceased to amaze me with their generous contributions and genuine curiosity. The Dean, Jack Saddler, always had a kind word for me, and a few minutes when I needed it. Associate Dean Cindy Prescott, Sue Watts, and the staff in the Dean’s Office gracefully and tirelessly answered questions, and offered me coffee and sweets on a regular basis. I owe them, and the many others I promised not to name, a heartfelt thank. 1 CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION “Why did you choose us?” It was June of 2007. The Dean of Forestry of the University of British Columbia and I shook hands and took seats across from each other in a “bubble.” From my chair in one of the three glass-walled meeting rooms that cling to the inside wall of the Forest Sciences Centre, I had a stunning view of the inside atrium of the building. The MacMillan Blœdel Atrium, named after the forest company soon before it disappeared in a wave of corporate consolidation, is a naturally floodlit showcase of British Columbia wood products, a modern yet warm space. As an aspiring educational ethnographer spending her working days in a boiling-hot “temporary” building on the other side of campus, how could I not be impressed by the surroundings, not to say a little envious? Three years earlier, I had boarded a yellow school bus chartered by the Faculty of Forestry’s recruitment officer. Our destination was the University of British Columbia’s Malcolm Knapp Research Forest. I got there after seeing multiple signs suggesting that I “take a hike!” posted around my office. The ads targeted the hundreds of first-year undergraduate students who lived in the nearby Vanier Place residence. I emailed the organizers, confessing that, as a visiting researcher to the department of Educational Studies, I was devoid of ambition for a forestry career, but curious about UBC’s applied research facilities. Soon after, I received a confirmation message promising salamander-sightings and fabulous food. I concluded that it was okay for me to join the tour. I showed up outside of the Forestry building at the crack of dawn and picked a seat in the middle of the bus. I examined the folder handed to me by the tour leader, whom I later learned was a recent graduate. Set against a forest background, the Weyerhaeuser logo stood 2 out. Over lunch, I expressed my surprise to our guide, who was not at all embarrassed over distributing the corporate folders. She did not have any UBC folders at hand, she explained, so she helped herself to a pile of leftovers from a recent conference. On the two-hour bus ride back to UBC, images from the day filled my mind: planting trees on recently disturbed soil, questioning a forest worker about the installation of main lines to spar trees, listening to a graduate student who explained the experiment she was running in one of the forest’s streams, photographing the creeping moonscape of an ongoing partial cut. I had become increasingly frustrated with the limited explanatory potential of the survey data I had collected from graduate students involved in university-industry- government collaborative research, and visiting the research forest caused an epiphany. I could all of a sudden see myself, literally, with “muddy boots and grubby hands” (Punch, 1986), conducting an ethnographic study of research training in Forestry. The new project, which became this doctoral dissertation, just felt right; it probably struck a chord with many layers of my own habitus. To the Dean, I offered a slightly sanitized version of this story, and more conceptual reasons as well, on which I will expand below. Whatever I said, it must have gone well with him: I noted in my research journal later that day that it almost seemed like the Dean wished he could carry out my project himself. Immediately after, I was introduced to the members of the Dean’s office who would look after me during my fieldwork period. I was “in,” only this time it would be more than a day trip. I felt at last that I was close to reaching “one of the most extraordinary rewards of the craft of sociology,” “the possibility it affords to enter the life of others” (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992b, p. 205). 3 Reasons to research In 2005, 130,767 people in Canada were enrolled in a Master’s or doctoral degree program (Canadian Association for Graduate Studies, 2008), or four out of every 1,000 inhabitants of Canada. Approximately a quarter of these were in doctoral programs. Although popular culture enjoys poking fun at those who have “made a terrible life choice,” as noted by Marge Simpson in the popular TV series, it is usually assumed that graduate students are at least somewhat smart. So what makes them pursue more degrees? In the late 1990s, I started working as an undergraduate research assistant and one of my first assignments concerned part-time faculty members in universities. Some of the literature on sessional lecturers overlapped with the ongoing controversy about the unionization of graduate teaching assistants and the challenging job market for scholars (Nelson, 1997; Nelson & Watt, 1999). My background as a student activist caused me to start entertaining some radical questions about graduate education and its role in the production of part-time labourers. Reading, at the same time, Ivan Illich’s bold essay in favour of education, but against schools (Illich, 1972), I wondered what would happen if research education was “disestablished,” or, in other words, if graduate school disappeared. Who, really, would miss it? I wondered if, despite everybody’s best intentions, enrolling ever- increasing numbers of smart, curious people into graduate degrees was really benefiting anything or anyone. At the same time, it seemed obvious to me that once the lid was off Pandora’s box, creating more knowledge was a good idea. Graduate education did not seem like the worst way to do it. I see it as urgent to have more knowledgeable people asking sharper questions and finding better answers. Such people, in my view, should be employed not just in universities but also in public and private sector organizations, and generally participating in 4 society. Thus, I became dissatisfied with the critical discourses about the transformation of universities that opposed a blanket rejection to university-industry-government relations and favoured instead, more or less implicitly, an autonomous community of scholars. Published in what often amounted to little more than a pamphlet, the argument left me skeptical, even suspicious. Such autonomous communities, I thought, were probably more imagined than real. And even if they existed, how do we know that they were more than a refuge for privileged individuals who could afford the respite from the messiness of life thanks to large amounts of cultural, social, and economic capital? I wondered if there could be ways to unleash knowledge – and its production – into the world. These questions have been at the core of the process I engaged in when I started my own doctorate in 2005, both as a personal reflection and as the implicit object of my research. The result is this ethnographic case study of research training in the Faculty of Forestry, with which I hope to shed light on the broader field of forest research and more generally on the processes of training and doing research in the applied natural sciences. The curious and smart people who train to become forest researchers learn to create knowledge in a space where scientific and practical concerns cohabit. Examining and analyzing their experience nourished my own curiosity but, beyond that, there are conjunctural and conceptual reasons making this dissertation timely. Depression and opportunities in the woods Forests have provided, for most of the 20th century, a “green gold” (Marchak, 1983) that supported the development of British Columbia’s public infrastructure and private wealth. It has now been a hundred years since the beginning of the reforms that led to the creation of the Forest Service to convert industrial excesses into a sustained stream of revenues for the province, and the forest industry is at an all-time low. The causes and 5 implications of the forest sector’s demise are beyond the realm of this dissertation and of my expertise, and will not be discussed here. However, as I will explain in greater detail in chapter 4 to 6, the Faculty of Forestry and its researchers are in many ways tied to the destiny of the sector. Academics are not at the helm of the forest sector, but nor are they captive passengers of a lower deck. They conduct and publish strategic research which informs public and private policies as well as contribute to changes in forest practices. They educate a large number of public servants, many consultants, and some corporate executives who are active in the forest sector. They sit on boards and serve as advisers and consultants to both public and private powers. They train new generations of researchers who will occupy similar functions in the near future. Forestry academics can certainly be considered to belong to the forest sector’s field of power, if as dominated agents, as is often the case for cultural producers. The position of forest researchers, in academia and elsewhere, is contingent upon a struggle between different views of the forest and its products. As the latter’s uncertain destiny as a source of public and private wealth unravels, certain areas of research will increase in importance while others might shrivel. Forest academics are party to that struggle and how they train researchers today will have an impact on the outcomes of the struggle tomorrow. The depression hitting the forest economy is also the source of many opportunities, and research is seen by some as a key to the renewal process. FPInnovations, a research consortium co-funded by the federal government and forest-sector companies, and possibly the biggest forest research organization in the world, identified four goals to reach “global competitiveness” in its 2008-2010 Strategic Plan: 6 Develop technologies that will enhance the forest sector’s value chain; build new partnerships, particularly with universities; put more emphasis on transformative technologies; and, focus on capturing the full opportunity offered by the emerging bioeconomy. (FPInnovations, 2008, p. 4) These four goals emphasize the role that research might take in the forest sector, and they have received explicit political and financial support in Canada’s most recent federal budget (Flaherty, 2009, p. 170). How the conjuncture will impact the researchers – established and in-training – of UBC’s Faculty of Forestry remains to be determined. The mechanisms of interaction between the dominant agents of the forest sector – which include government officials and industry leaders – and the forest researchers located in universities are complex. The demands to forest academics that emerge from outside of universities are, to some degree, translated into problems and programs deemed appropriate for the university setting. The reverse, however, is also true, as academic requirements can be interpreted by the Faculty of Forestry and its members in the light of their role in the forest sector. What should be done is always an object of struggle, historically determined and changing over time, especially in times of “crisis,” the declaration of which is also of course subject to debate. Beyond the forest Research training in the Faculty of Forestry may be a striking example of how some parts of the university are closely tied to the environment beyond the boundaries of campus. It is not, however, the only case. The development of Canada has been driven by the exploitation of the vast country’s natural resources, which have been mined, caught and harvested to transform into staple commodities for export (Innis, 1995). After fur, cod, copper, and timber, oil and gas are now important sources of revenues for corporations and governments alike, fuelling the growth of 7 some provinces and drawing the population of other provinces to migrate for work. It is reasonable to believe that researchers in the areas of fisheries and petrology, for example, have played a role similar to that of forest researchers in enabling, supporting, and at times controlling the growth of those industries. Unfortunately, the sociology of higher education and of science has paid relatively little attention to such traditional applied, multidisciplinary fields. Instead, physics and biology have captured most of the research efforts in the social studies of science (Cetina, 1999; Kuhn, 1970; Latour & Woolgar, 1980; Pickering, 1999; Rabinow, 1996; Traweek, 1992), while studies focusing on the relationships between academics and industry have been mostly bound to the life sciences (Trépanier & Ippersiel, 2003). This state of the scholarship obscures an important motivation for the development of many institutions of higher education in North America: a desire to gain greater control over natural resources and industrial processes through specialized, scientific knowledge. A parallel blind spot is found in studies of graduate education. Classic studies have eschewed applied, multidisciplinary knowledge areas which induced too many “complications” (W. G. Bowen & Rudenstine, 1992, p. 6). The authors of a major study of the doctoral experience in the United Kingdom did, however, include one multidisciplinary doctoral program in their sample, but their efforts did not yield conclusive results. Sara Delamont and her colleagues noted that the socialization of new researchers in such fields needed “careful evaluation in terms of the kinds of identities that are fostered, and the kinds of intellectual apprenticeship that are enacted under such conditions” (Delamont, Parry, & Atkinson, 2000, p. 172). Moreover, many studies of graduate education and in particular of doctoral students consider the latter primarily as future scholars destined to become “stewards of [their] discipline” (Golde & Walker, 2006; Walker, Golde, Jones, Bueschel, & Hutchings, 2007), which usually means faculty members. Despite the fact that fewer than 8 half of former graduate students will become members of the professoriate (Conseil supérieur de l'éducation, 2003; Kannankutty & Kang, 2001), their “professional identity development” is still considered to lead them first and foremost to the tenure-track (Sweitzer, 2009). Following a 1995 report on Reshaping the Graduate Education of Scientists and Engineers (Committee on Science, Engineering, and Public Policy, 1995), an active discussion and multiple initiatives have emerged to broaden the scope of graduate students’ professional preparation (Nicolas & Bourque-Viens, 2008), but the conversation has not significantly spilled over to the sociological literature. In sum, the role played by current and former graduate students in connecting universities to their social, political and economic environment has been largely ignored. Heteronomous zones To understand how problems emerging in society at large are translated into terms that make them acceptable in the academic science environment, Pierre Bourdieu’s theory of fields offers a useful model. His concepts shed light on the uneven distribution of resources and on the struggles of individuals and organizations for specific stakes. As I will explain in detail in chapter 2, fields are defined as areas of the social world which are relatively autonomous from the rest of society, which means they are governed from the inside and agents within them follow their own rules. In 1975, in an article in which he described the specificity of the scientific field, Bourdieu wrote that: The dominant class now grants the natural sciences an autonomy corresponding to the interest it finds in the economic application of scientific techniques, so that they are now (...) fully autonomised in relation to the laws of the social world. (Bourdieu, 1975a, p. 36) While this statement probably was true for fields such as physics, it no longer seems applicable to other areas of the natural sciences, although of course one could argue that the 9 definition of science needs to be revised to include only strictly autonomous fields. Nevertheless, even in universities, which benefit from some measure of autonomy, there are areas where what is understood as scientific research is conducted under at least some level of governance from the outside. Forest research, as I will show, is one such area. Yet, I will explain that this area of knowledge production, while not entirely autonomous, does not totally dissolve into the dominated space of the social world either. Rather, it retains a distinct logic at the intersection of forces emanating from the scientific field and from the forest sector. As a result, forest research, as it is practiced in the UBC Faculty of Forestry but also elsewhere, can be seen as a heteronomous field, a conception I will explore throughout this dissertation. Graduate research training programs are the primary mechanism of reproduction of the field of forest research. As such, they provide a valuable lens through which the distribution and transmission of valuable forms of capital in the field can be observed. A word on definitions Throughout this dissertation, the word “Forestry” will be capitalized to refer to the Faculty of Forestry of the University of British Columbia, the main site of my study. According to the Oxford Canadian Dictionary, forestry is “the science and practice of planting, caring for, and managing forests” (Bisset, 2004, p. 378). As chapter 4 will show, research in the Faculty of Forestry has a much broader scope, most notably including wood- related activities and other research that only remotely fit the definition of forestry. In the common language of the Faculty, forestry is also understood as what foresters do, and the majority of graduate students and faculty members are not foresters themselves. Thus, the use of the label “forestry” to designate the faculty as a whole is often discussed, sometimes deplored, and alternatives are debated, but the status quo remains. 10 To reflect my findings better, I have chosen to use the expression “field of forest research” to designate the plurality of organizations and individuals whose primary occupation is to conduct research about forests or forest products (including wood). I will define and explain the use of the concept of field in the next chapter, but for the moment I will simply say that the Faculty of Forestry is an important agent in the field of forest research, but certainly not the only one. I will also use the expression “forest sector” – which will also be further explained in chapter 2 – to designate the combination of private sector, government, and, to a lesser extent, non-governmental organizations concerned with forest issues broadly defined. I will often use “forest sector” where others would say “forest industry” in order to emphasize the joint presence of public and private organizations in it. The word “forestry,” without the capital “f,” will be avoided but, if used, will strictly refer to forest management practices. The idea of a field of forest research evolved substantially over the year I dedicated to the analysis and interpretation of my study’s findings, affecting the construction of the research object. I started this project – and conducted my fieldwork – under the assumption that the field of forest research was primarily inhabited by academics from UBC’s Faculty of Forestry and other similar organizations. I thought the field was heteronomous because there were forces from the forest sector that influenced the positions and position-takings of agents within forest research. Such influences would come from government and private companies, of course, but also from increasingly pressing concerns for environmental values. I was curious to see how such heteronomous forces penetrated the field and in particular how they influenced the training of researchers within it. As I wrote, it progressively became clear to me that the binary opposition between what is within universities and what lies outside of them was not analytically productive. 11 Evidence that both the organization (the Faculty of Forestry) and the individuals within it (the faculty members and the graduate students) were themselves sources of heteronomy was mounting. I also encountered individuals and organizations who were doing forest research while being located outside of universities. I adopted a more symmetrical view of the social space around forest research, placing the scientific field and the forest sector in equivalent roles as I realized that they simultaneously shaped forest research. The university does have a special position in the field of forest research because of its primary role in the reproduction of the field through the training of graduate students. But the field extends way beyond its gates. This dissertation is based on a study design that, true to my initial conception, focused almost exclusively on academic agents. The scope, time, and funding allocated to the Ph.D. did not allow me to expand the study much further. I also wanted, from the start, to dedicate my research efforts to researchers-in-training. The result is a window into the reproduction of the field of forest research and the experience of the key agents involved: faculty members and graduate students. In the concluding chapter, I will offer suggestions for further research that would lead to a more complete understanding of this research field and of the relative position of diverse individuals and organizations within it, including those involved in training. Structure of the dissertation The next chapter will present the conceptual and methodological framework on which this study is based. More specifically, chapter 2 will provide an introduction to the main concepts deployed by Pierre Bourdieu to account for the relational dynamics between individuals, organizations, and somewhat autonomous social fields within the global social environment. The methodological implications of Bourdieu’s framework and the resulting 12 design that was adopted for this study are presented in the second half of that chapter, which concludes with a discussion of my own position as a researcher in the context of the Faculty of Forestry. Chapter 3 offers a contrasted discussion of research training through graduate education at universities. First, I examine the main components of the “traditional” system of academic reproduction, a process which is largely closed to outsiders. Then, I review how heteronomous forces are bringing changes to the model, introducing graduate students to problems and partners from outside the academic field. The available literature measuring the impact of such alternative modes of research training is reviewed. In the following three chapters, I present the empirical findings of the study. Chapter 4 introduces readers to the Faculty of Forestry at the University of British Columbia, positioning it within the field of forest research and analyzing the forms of capital that have currency within Forestry and in its relations with other organizations. Chapter 5 focuses on the individual agents engaged in the reproduction of the field of forest research, namely faculty members, adjunct professors, and graduate students. I highlight the combination of forms of capital that allows those agents to become engaged, in their respective capacities, in the training of researchers. Chapter 6 analyzes how these same agents proceed to align problems and people with resource providers in order to conduct research and concurrently train the next generation of researchers. It also discusses the possible futures of those who train in forest research, examining the issue from the faculty members’ and from the students’ perspective and also looking at what is known about the actual trajectories of M.Sc. and Ph.D. graduates. The conclusion, chapter 7, integrates the findings from the previous three chapters and interprets them in the light of Bourdieu’s theory of fields and of what has been described 13 elsewhere as transformations in research training. More specifically, I discuss the specific stakes and habitus developed in the field of forest research and elaborate on the implications of this study of the reproduction of forest researchers for graduate education more generally. The primary ambition of this dissertation is to broaden the spectrum of today’s discussion on the training of researchers, which reflects the struggle between autonomous and heteronomous forces. This conversation belongs partly to the field of higher education and partly to the field of sociology, which since Max Weber at least has been fascinated by the complex relationship between academics and society. I hope that the empirical material collected among this little-studied population and the resulting story, told through the lens of Pierre Bourdieu’s concepts, will contribute to a more complete and nuanced picture of the practices of research training in today’s university. Despite the focus placed on sociological concepts and discussion, I hope that the friendly people of Forestry, curious as they are, will find interest in my perspective, as an outsider, on their research training practices. I hope to tell them nothing they did not know, but to tell it in a way that triggers new and exciting ideas about education in their own field. They certainly made me think hard about mine. 14 CHAPTER 2 CONCEPTUAL APPROACH AND STUDY DESIGN The conceptual tools developed by Pierre Bourdieu and his colleagues are used in this study to examine the processes of reproduction at play in an applied area of science, more specifically forest research. I will first use the core concepts of field, capital, and habitus to assess the degree of autonomy of forest research within the Faculty of Forestry at the University of British Columbia and in relation to other areas of the social world. Then, I will seek to understand the position of the students who, under the supervision of established forest researchers, engage in a training process that could lead them to become forest researchers. At the onset of this study, forest research is thought of as a heteronomous field, or in other words as a field that is only partially autonomous. This claim will be thoroughly examined in the light of the empirical data assembled for this study presented in chapters 4 to 6. If forest research is a heteronomous field, then the training of recruits in this field is likely to differ from what is usually seen as the traditional mode of reproduction of the scientific field. Whether this is the case or not will be discussed through in-depth analysis of the material resulting from over a year of fieldwork among graduate students. The core concepts of Bourdieu’s theory of fields are central in the elaboration of this study and thus will be defined and discussed up front, locating them in the context in which they were introduced and in the context in which they are used in this study. In this chapter, I will first introduce the conceptual framework which drove my inquiry into forest research training, and then present the methodology I adopted and the resulting study design. The chapter will conclude with a reflection on my position in relation to the social world I observed. 15 Bourdieu’s theory of fields The core concepts developed by Pierre Bourdieu – field, habitus, and capital – are the building blocks of his general theory of the constitution and reproduction of society, a dynamic, relational model that sought to bridge macro- and microsociological perspectives. The careful use of these concepts simultaneously shines a light on the objective and subjective dimensions of our daily experience and offers a nuanced but powerful understanding of the enduring, yet constantly changing, relations of power between people and organizations. In this section, I will discuss how the conceptual tools developed by Bourdieu allow me to examine how an area of cultural production such as forest research interacts with other spheres of human activity such as more fundamental scientific disciplines, policy-making, industrial production, community life, and environmental conservation. Throughout this work, which is anchored in a materialist perspective, I assume that social and economic structures pre-exist the individual persons and, to some degree, limit each one’s range of action. I tend to see individuals as agents within a social structure which pre-existed them, capable of taking action, making decisions, and attributing meaning, but within a certain range that depends on the objective conditions of their existence. The structure is not immutable, but rather in a perpetual state of tension and change; such change, however, results from much more than the simple volition of agents. These assumptions lead me to a theoretical framework and to a methodological approach that support close examination of both external and internal factors, and of the dynamics of interaction between the two. I also seek to understand the relations between the objective positions of individuals within the social structure and their subjective perspective 16 or point of view. Bourdieu’s work provides me with inspiration and adequate theoretical tools to guide my empirical study along these lines. Pierre Bourdieu was born in 1930 in a rural region of France but his trajectory took him to the centre of Paris’ intellectual life, an unlikely outcome for someone of such modest origin. By examining the background of Bourdieu’s formative years, one can understand how the convergence of his biography and of the intellectual history of mid-twentieth century France resulted in a deeply-seated preoccupation with overcoming the opposition between the objectivist/structuralist perspective in sociology and its subjectivist/phenomenological counterpart. The notion of habitus, which he first extensively described in his 1972 Esquisse pour une théorie de la pratique (Bourdieu, 1977, 2000a), directly aimed at the resolution of this philosophical tension. Some critics emphatically deny that Bourdieu’s theory actually lived up to this goal of achieving balance between the two poles (Alexander, 1995; Jenkins, 2002). While I would agree that a summary of Bourdieu’s work would indeed stress the weight of the social structure more than the role of individual agency, it must be noted that he has also accumulated ample empirical evidence to support his claims, in the context of France at least. Bourdieu’s thick bibliography (Delsaut & Rivière, 2002) shows that his primary concern was not to develop theory, but rather to make sense (“rendre raison”) of social phenomena, something he did with the help of numerous collaborators, often publishing the results in his journal Les Actes de la recherche en sciences sociales. When considering the social world, Bourdieu did not see free-floating individuals, but rather a relational space of objective positions occupied by agents struggling to maintain or improve their condition. By studying diverse social fields, he thought he would demonstrate how the confrontation of special interests in autonomous fields could paradoxically lead to the progress of universality (Bourdieu, 1985, pp. 23-24). I modestly inscribe my own work in 17 the continuity of this programme, as I ask whether this paradox extends to fields whose autonomy is contested. A field, according to Bourdieu, is a social space in which individuals (or organizations) relate to each other as they compete for the same stake. It is a field of force, as each agent in the field has a different weight. The weight of agents is determined by their accumulated capital, and shapes the space around them accordingly. The “heaviest” agents dominate the field while the agents with little capital are in dominated positions. The similarities between this sociological vision of a relational space and the theory of relativity in physics are striking (Martin, 2003). However, the social field as Bourdieu sees it differs from the Einsteinian space-time continuum. In the latter, objects (planets, for instance) have a weight and a trajectory, but no capacity to act on their own. In a social field, agents enact strategies to improve their position within the field, either by supporting the rules of the field or seeking to subvert them in their favour (a possibility not available to planets). Thus, the social field is also a field of struggle. Agents do not experience absolute freedom: their actions and thoughts are bounded, limited to a certain range. Yet, even an astute observer cannot fully predict the actual range of options offered to agents, the strategies they will adopt or the results of the agents’ struggle with each other. But the social fields, the agents within them, and their trajectories can – and must – be grasped empirically, in order to understand the necessary character of experience from the agents’ point of view (Pinto, 2004). Bourdieu’s sociology presents society in general as a relational space (Accardo, 2006). Within that global space, one may observe smaller, relatively autonomous fields and sub-fields with their own dynamics of force and struggle. Fields also interact with each other in a relational way, with some fields holding a dominating position in society while other 18 fields struggle to improve theirs. In sum, society contains no free particles: all individuals, institutions, and groups relate to all others, to some degree, even if they are unaware of each other’s existence. This theory is only one of many theories deployed by sociologists to account for the differences and relations between individuals and between groups in society. According to Heilbron (1995), these differences were already a central concern for early secular theorists such as Montesquieu and Rousseau. Those who are usually identified as the founders of sociology, most notably Durkheim and Weber, were also interested in social differentiation and the emergence of autonomous “spheres.” Bourdieu, through closely knit empirical and theoretical work, has brought together several strands of social theory to further explain the construction, maintenance, and transformation of this complicated social order, examining the relations between its parts. Competing theories were formulated to tackle this problem, such as Luhmann’s theory of system 1 (Luhmann, 1995) and, on a smaller scale, specifically addressing issues of demarcation in knowledge areas, Gieryn’s theory of “boundary work” (D. Fisher, 1993; Gieryn, 1983). The concept of field itself has been used by a number of social scientists (Martin, 2003). Bourdieu’s 1966 article “Champ intellectuel et projet créateur” is generally recognized as the first occurrence of the concept of field in his oeuvre. In it, Bourdieu explains how intellectuals are neither absolutely free, nor fully determined by their social origins or by the affairs and topics of the day set by politics or by the economy. Instead, intellectuals are located in a field with other intellectuals where their position and position- taking (prise de position) depend on the positions of all others within the same field. The intellectual field, over the years and especially since the nineteenth century, has grown 1 See Bourdieu & Wacquant (1992b, pp. 102-104) for a discussion of the differences between Bourdieu’s field theory and Luhmann’s theory of systems. 19 autonomous and its members now consider themselves accountable only to their own legitimating institutions and critics. In other words, they only follow the norms and rules established by their peers, and only seek the rewards granted within the field. Intellectuals and artists within the field do not act randomly: they position themselves and their work in relation to that of others and based on how they perceive their work to be received by other agents in the field. This relative autonomy of the field does not mean that its members ignore the rest of the world and its demands, but rather that these demands are mediated by the field itself. During the 1970s, Bourdieu published important articles on the study of fields: two discuss Weber’s sociology of religion and the emergence of the religious field (Bourdieu, 1971a, 1971b) while another addresses the specificity of the scientific field (Bourdieu, 1975a, 1975b, 1976 are three versions of the same article). He also worked with collaborators on studies of various fields, such as haute couture (Bourdieu, 1984a) and comic books (Boltanski, 1975). Later, Bourdieu published – to name only the milestones of his work on fields – Homo Academicus (1984b, 1988) about the academic field, La Noblesse d’État (State Nobility) (Bourdieu, 1989, 1998b) about the elite trained in France’s Grandes Écoles, Les Règles de l’Art (Rules of Art) (Bourdieu, 1996, 1998c) about the field of literature, and Les Structures sociales de l’économie (Social Structures of the Economy) (Bourdieu, 2000b, 2005b) in which he focuses on the residential housing market. Field Simply put, a field is “a playing space, a field of objective relations between individuals or institutions competing for an identical stake”2 (Bourdieu, 1984b, p. 197). The following characteristics should be observed in any field: (1) it is a system of relations in which agents hold positions related to each others’, (2) that is at once a field of forces (some 2 « J’appelle champ un espace de jeu, un champ de relations objectives entre des individus ou des institutions en compétition pour un enjeu identique. » 20 agents are dominating, some are dominated) (3) and a field of struggle (agents try to maintain or enhance their position, (4) in which agents accumulate and trade specific forms of capital (5) in a structure that is, to some degree, autonomous from the broader social world. Although the entire social space is relational in Bourdieu’s sociology, fields do not cover its full surface. In other words, not every significant context of activity is a field, nor is everyone a member of a field (Lahire, 2001). So how does one recognize a field? Fields have to be examined empirically by studying their effects and cannot be determined a priori. In practice, this means that there is a field when there are agents who recognize each other as members of the same field, and establish conditions of membership, also called “admission fee,” determining who is inside and who is outside of the field (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992b); the more autonomous the field, the higher the admission fee, and the more homogeneous the agents in the field (Vandenberghe, 1999). The admission fee and the field’s zone of influence are not fixed: they are the object of a permanent struggle within the field. Despite their ongoing involvement in the field’s struggle, the agents within it are bound by a common belief in the importance of that game: the illusio. Each field has its specific illusio, “a tacit recognition of the value of the stakes of the game and practical mastery of the game’s rules”3 (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992a, p. 93). In other words, “In order to fight one another, people have to agree on the areas of disagreement” (Bourdieu, 2005a, p. 36). To be a member of the field, one needs to fully adhere to the field’s illusio, to have internalized it. The investment in the field must be total, and those who express doubts or, worse, act as traitors by allowing outside stakes into the field, will be energetically penalized (Accardo, 2006, p. 194). 3 « … comme reconnaissance tacite de la valeur des enjeux engagés dans le jeu et comme maîtrise pratique des règles qui le régissent. » 21 Without thorough empirical examination, it would not be possible to determine whether researchers who study forests form a field of their own. In chapters 4 to 6, I will examine empirical evidence that will allow me to determine whether there is an admission fee and an illusio shared by the researchers which would point to the existence of a field effects specific to forest research, separate from the rest of the scientific field and from the social world in general. Capital The structure of a field reflects the distribution of capital in it (Bourdieu, 1986, p. 242). Different forms of capital are traded between members of the field, and the value of each form of capital is determined within the field. In the global social space, the forms of capital which are most frequently referred to are: social, cultural, economic, and symbolic. However, within a given field, Bourdieu preferred to talk of a “specific capital” as the type which was proprietary to that area of the social space. The exact nature and definition of that specific form of capital, within each field, is an object of struggle and must be submitted to empirical inquiry. In that struggle, agents can adopt one of two strategies, a choice largely dictated by their current position, previous trajectory, and accumulated capital. They can seek to acquire more of the form of capital that is currently valued, or they can engage in a struggle to change the relative value of the various forms of capital and the definition of the specific capital within the field in favour of the type they already possess. Agents who benefit from accumulated specific capital within the field are more likely to adopt the conservative strategy and to defend the current order of things. They will also tend to seek small profits and to avoid risks. On the other hand, agents without a large volume of capital, or who have accumulated another type of capital that is not specific to the field, might adopt subversive 22 strategies in order to change the norms of the field to increase the value of the type of capital they possess. They might also take greater risks and attempt a coup d’éclat for a greater profit. Agents attempting to transfer from one field to another or even from one country to another are also more likely to adopt this type of strategy. The various types of capital can be either objectified as goods (e.g., equipment, works of art, music instruments...), institutionalized (e.g., in titles, like “doctor”) or incorporated as the agent’s habitus. Symbolic capital plays a special role: one’s reputation and the respect received from the community will influence the value of the other forms of capital held by a given agent (Champagne & O. Christin, 2004). Agents in autonomous fields are often thought to be disinterested because, unlike agents within the broader social field, they have little interest in forms of capital which are highly sought-after in the global social space, for example economic capital. By showing their disinterest for economic capital, they actually increase their chances of making “symbolic profits,” increasing the respect they receive from others and hence the general effectiveness of their other forms of capital. In other words, within fields, agents have an interest in disinterestedness. One key to establishing forest research as a separate field is to identify a specific form of capital. If the most valued form of capital in forest research is in fact the exact same as within the scientific field in general – scientific competence and technical capacity (Bourdieu, 1976) – then forest research is not differentiated within science as a field, while nonetheless being autonomous in relation to non-scientific forces. Conversely, if the most valued asset among forest researchers is the capacity to profitably exploit an experimental forest plot, the area of forest research can be seen as integrated to the broader economic field. As we will see, the forest researchers studied do value forms of capital which are akin to the general scientific currency while, in many cases at least, remaining sensitive to non- 23 specifically scientific values as well. In that sense, forest research is perhaps similar to the French field of management schools, which Pavis showed to be characterized by a combination of forms of capital (Pavis, 1998). I now turn to the third Bourdieusian concept, which constitutes the cornerstone of his theory of practice. Habitus The concept of habitus, as appropriated by Bourdieu,4 was introduced in inchoate form in earlier publications, notably in La Reproduction (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1970), but his Esquisse pour une théorie de la pratique (Outline of a Theory of Practice), first published in 1972 (Bourdieu, 1977, 2000a) carries the first explicit and lengthy discussion of the concept, in book form at least. The first formal definition offered by the English version of the book is less elliptical than the French one (the classic and elegant, but tongue-twisting, “système de dispositions durables, structures structurées predisposées à fonctionner comme des structures structurantes,” (Bourdieu, 2000a, p. 256) and contains an explanation of the workings of the habitus. A lengthy quotation is in order: 4 Bourdieu was not the first to use the concept of habitus, which has a long history in philosophy. For a useful discussion of the history of habitus, habits, and other related concepts, see Kaufmann (2001). Bourdieu also discusses the genesis of the concepts of field and habitus in an article (Bourdieu, 1985). 24 The habitus, the durably installed generative principle of regulated improvisations, produces practices which tend to reproduce the regularities immanent in the objective conditions of the production of their generative principle, while adjusting to the demands inscribed as objective potentialities in the situation, as defined by the cognitive and motivating structures making up the habitus. It follows that these practices cannot be directly deduced from the objective conditions, defined as the instantaneous sum of the stimuli which may appear to have directly triggered them, or from the conditions which produced the durable principle of their production. These practices can be accounted for only by relating the objective structure defining the social conditions of the production of the habitus which engendered them to the conditions in which this habitus is operating, that is, to the conjuncture which, short of a radical transformation, represents a particular state of the structure. In practice, it is the habitus, history turned into nature, i.e. denied as such, which accomplishes practically the relating of these two systems of relations, in and through the production of practice. (Bourdieu, 1977, p. 78) According to this definition, habitus is a relational device that connects the social structure (focus of the objectivist tradition) to the specific circumstances perceived by the interacting agent (focus of the subjectivist tradition) and generates practice. We see the world through our habitus, which acts as a classifying lens for our observations, and as an organizing principle for our actions. Socialization – a word that Bourdieu seldom uses – produces the habitus, inscribing the social conditions in which it is constructed into the individual. Consequently, two individuals brought up under similar circumstances will carry a similar habitus and presumably act in similar ways in similar situations. Early experiences are the heaviest influences and set the grounds for the acquisition of further layers of habitus. The schemes of perception, understanding, and action that become embodied in the agent give meaning to all daily life events, even the most uneventful, saving us from having to think anew every single occurrence of analogical phenomena.5 The embodiment is here to be understood quite 5 The connection to the “social construction of reality” (Berger & Luckmann, 1967) is flagrant here, although – as far as I know – unacknowledged by Bourdieu. 25 literally. From the day they are born, children start to learn by observing the others’ practices and detecting patterns in them, without having to use language to describe them. The observed schemes become part of their selves, located in their very bodies, as an “abbreviated and practical, i.e. mnemonic, form of the fundamental principle of the arbitrary content of the culture” (Bourdieu, 2000a, p. 94). It becomes difficult, if not impossible, to touch or to change the habitus through deliberate action. The habitus cannot, by itself, explain or predict the agents’ actions. The habitus becomes actualized in a specific context – the conjuncture – which greatly impacts the generation of practices. Specifically, the social conditions in which the habitus is expressed can be more or less similar to those in which the habitus was formed. When the context of actualization of the habitus is too distant and dissimilar to the context of its production, the agent is likely to receive a negative sanction from other agents. In a stable, closed environment with little diversity (such as a traditional society), few dissimilarities may be observed between the two contexts, the current situation being nothing but a particular state of the structure in which the habitus was created. However, a transformation of the material conditions of existence, such as the radical one that was observed by Bourdieu in Algeria in the mid-twentieth century (Grenfell, 2004), will cause an hysteresis effect, a “state of being ‘out of place and time’: in other words, where structural field conditions alter before changes in the expectations produced by them” (Grenfell, 2004, p. 68). Bourdieu seemed to recognize that each individual could incorporate more than one habitus. In a footnote to his first publication on the scientific field, he mentioned both “the habitus produced by early class education” and “the secondary habitus inculcated by 26 schooling”6 (Bourdieu, 1976, p. 100). Beyond schooling, there are many other important moments: each setting to which we affiliate brings a new phase of secondary socialization (such as work, church, volunteer organizations, gangs, etc.). I would add that for every field there exists a corresponding habitus, which is the incorporated form of capital constituting the admission fee. These latter phases of socialization may come in contradiction with the primary habitus. A classic example is how the habitus of working-class children, acquired through primary socialization, contradicts the middle-class norms and values that the school system is trying to impose on them, through symbolic violence, as secondary socialization (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1970). However, in his early work on the concept of field, Bourdieu claimed that the primary habitus (based on social class) becomes in a sense secondary to the logic of the autonomous field to which one belongs, as the field filters or refracts the effects of external determination (Bourdieu, 1971c, p. 185). The concept of habitus is at the core of this study and will be used in the later chapters, in which I will examine the trajectories of agents – apprentice-researchers and their supervisors, in particular – in the area of forest research. If forest research has some level of autonomy as a field, then the student researchers should be constructing new schemes of perception and practice as they progress. How such new schemes become superimposed on previous layers of habitus, acquired through primary socialization (gender, race, class, etc.) and later disciplinary and/or professional education and experiences is of special interest. 6 « L’habitus produit par la prime éducation de classe et l’habitus secondaire inculqué par l’éducation scolaire. » 27 The field of power The concept of field of power was lengthily developed by Bourdieu in his book La Noblesse d’État (State Nobility) (Bourdieu, 1989, 1998b), in which he studies the distribution of capital among France’s ruling cultural and economic elite. He provides a detailed definition: The field of power is a field of forces defined by the structure of the existing balance of forces between forms of power, or between different species of capital. It is also, inseparably, a field of struggle for power between those who hold different powers, a playing field where agents and institutions who possess a sufficient quantity of specific capital (economic or cultural, notably) to occupy dominant positions within their own fields, confront each other through strategies aimed at the conservation or transformation of that balance of forces.7 (Bourdieu, 1989, p. 375) At any given moment, the field of power is in a (sometimes precarious) balance resulting in a “division of the labour of domination”8 (Bourdieu, 1989, p. 376). Not all agents or fields are located in the field of power. One can think of relatively autonomous fields – for example, the field of stamp collecting – that have little to do with the domination of society. According to Bourdieu, at the time of his study, the dominant principle of classification in France within the field of power was economic capital, while cultural capital was the dominated principle. In other words, those with significant cultural capital – intellectuals, artists, professors, etc. – were part of the field of power and exercised some level of domination within society (by controlling the processes of cultural reproduction and its contents), but they were, within the dominant group, dominated by those with more economic capital. While this general social structure would probably have been thought by Bourdieu to 7 « Le champ du pouvoir est un champ de forces défini dans sa structure par l’état du rapport de force entre des formes de pouvoir, ou des espèces de capital différents. Il est aussi, inséparablement, un champ de luttes pour le pouvoir entre détenteurs de pouvoirs différents, un espace de jeu où des agents et des institutions ayant en commun de posséder une quantité de capital spécifique (économique ou culturel, notamment) suffisante pour occuper des dispositions dominantes au sein de leurs champs respectifs, s’affrontent dans des stratégies destinées à conserver ou à transformer ce rapport de force. » 8 « division du travail de domination » 28 be fairly prevalent around the world in our era, it remains a historic situation that needs to be assessed empirically, and not a universal, trans-historic state of affairs. Studying the field of power is required to understand the currency given to each form of capital. One may wonder why the dominating agents of the dominating field (at this time, the economic field) accept sharing the field of power with the dominating agents of the dominated field (at this time, the cultural field). The economically dominating agents, to maintain their domination, need legitimacy (symbolic capital). Intellectuals can provide the dominating group(s) with an ideology which justifies it, transforming arbitrariness into necessity. Napoleon crowned himself emperor in the merely accessory presence of Pope Pius VII, only to end his life in exile. Unlike the disgraced emperor, enlightened agents among the dominant class know the value of seemingly independent support from autonomous agents. Such support appears more legitimate: “The prince can only obtain of his painters, poets or jurists a truly efficient symbolic service in as much as he abandons the capacity to rule in their domain”9 (Bourdieu, 1989, p. 553). To maximize the efficiency of this process, wider “circles of legitimation” are required: agents do not simply exchange endorsement, but instead complex chains of support are created, which allow the observer to ignore the actual relationships that keep the dominants and the dominated in their respective place. All agents within autonomous fields, however, do not necessarily help support the current division of power. Those who do not are allowed to do so because their field is, to some degree, self-governed. The field resists the application of global rules to its jurisdiction, using its own rules instead. In autonomous intellectual fields, agents who possess a large volume of cultural capital and comparatively less economic capital, by virtue of their status as dominated within the field of power, are likely to align with those who are dominated in 9 « Le prince ne peut obtenir de ses peintres, ses poètes ou ses juristes un service symbolique réellement efficace que pour autant qu’il leut abandonne la capacité de légiférer en leur domaine. » 29 the global social space, and to attempt to reduce the dominating power of those who possess vast quantities of economic capital. How are forest researchers from the Faculty of Forestry located in relation to the field of power? One of the first steps of this research will be to locate, if approximately, the potential field of forest research in relation to the field of power. According to one historian of forestry in the Pacific Northwest, the role of forest experts until 1965 (at least) has been, for the most part, to support and legitimate the practices of the forest industry (Rajala, 1999). In other words, the “forest intellectuals” provided the dominant players of the forest economy with a scientific justification. My study, unlike Rajala’s, is focused on the contemporary period, and only on the forest researchers rather than on the entire forest sector. I will examine, through the lens of research training, the degree of autonomy that today’s forest researchers have in relation to the dominant agents of the field of power. Autonomy and heteronomy The key characteristic of fields is their relative autonomy or, in other words, self- governance. The social structure of a given field differs from that of the global social space, and agents within that field compete for a specific stake that may be meaningless to agents in other social fields. They are ready to invest their whole being into the struggle (Bourdieu, 1997, p. 25). Conversely, if a social organization directly reproduces the structure of society, then it is not a field. However, no field benefits from absolute or permanent autonomy. The relative character of the autonomy of fields translates into a relative dependence to the rest of the social universe. For a field to strive, historic, material, and social conditions of possibility must support its autonomy. As these conditions change, a field can lose its autonomy and disappear as a distinct entity (Fabiani, 2001) or simply become less autonomous, as Maton (2005) has argued in the case of English higher education. We then speak of heteronomy or 30 governance from the outside. The degree of autonomy characteristic of a field is, at any given moment, the result of a continuous struggle between autonomous and heteronomous criteria. To illustrate this struggle, Vandenberghe offers the example of the scholarly field: At any moment in time, the field is the locus of struggle between two principles of hierarchization: a heteronomous criterion (success, as measured by book sales) that works to the benefit of those who dominate the field economically and politically (the people in “suits” who distribute the resources, sit on committees, and decide on the marketability of books), and an autonomous criterion (quality, as measured by the recognition by peers) that favors the “true scholars”. (Vandenberghe, 1999, p. 53) As with everything within Bourdieu’s system of concepts, the autonomy of fields cannot be taken for granted, but has to be measured empirically. The researcher must act carefully and be aware that, by using a field approach to study a region of the social space, she induces “methodological autonomization,” if only because she is treating the area “as a system governed by its own laws” (Bourdieu, 1971c, p. 162). A number of characteristics can be used as indicators of the presence of an autonomous field: references to other members (present and past) and to their work by members of the field, educational programs (in schools), publications aimed at a public of agents who have been initiated to the field, presence of critics, awards recognizing the work of members, etc. In other words, within each field, there are “institutions of production, reproduction and celebration” (Boltanski, 1975) of the field and of its agents. The members of an autonomous field are expected to locate their work in relation to that of others – and to distinguish themselves from it – and to refuse outside influences and demands (Bourdieu, 1971c). This does not mean that external agents have no influence over the workings of the field, but rather that: 31 The relations between each of the agents of the system and the agents or institutions which are entirely or partly external to the system are always mediated by the relations established within the system itself, that it, inside the intellectual field. (Bourdieu, 1971c, p. 164) External demands will be refracted by the field, and problems emerging from outside the field will be translated in the field’s own terms. The field is deemed very independent when it is nearly impossible to recognize the problem, as defined in the global social world, once it is translated within the field. In Poupeau’s analysis of sociology of education in France (Poupeau, 2003), for instance, this subspecialty within sociology is found to have little autonomy, as indicated by the way in which sociologists of education uncritically adopt the vocabulary and research problems as they are stated by the French Ministry of Education. This study started with the intuition that forest research probably constitutes a field to some degree, but that its level of autonomy would be relatively low compared to other areas of research found in universities. This intuition was submitted to empirical examination through the methodological approach and study design that I will describe in the next section. As I have already noted in the introduction, I eventually confirmed that there is indeed a field of forest research. Defined as such, the field of forest research includes forest researchers located in many different organizations, including, but not restricted to, universities. To understand its dynamics and the position of agents within it, one has to see forest research at the intersection of the scientific field and of the forest sector, symmetrically seeing both as heteronomous forces that govern forest research from the outside. Moreover, in this context, the scientific field is understood as the social space where researchers conduct systematic inquiry to create new knowledge, while the forest sector is understood as the social space in 32 which companies, government agencies, non-governmental organizations, and others debate and decide on the use of forests and their products.10 Universities are the primary organizations where the reproduction of the scientific field takes place, and such is also the case for the reproduction of the field of forest research. It would, however, be a mistake to conflate the academic field, i.e. the field of university affairs, and the scientific field, which are guided by different logics: universities are driven by their educational role, while the purpose of science is to create new knowledge. Many of the forces and struggles at play within universities are not related to the production of knowledge, and a significant proportion of scientific activities are not based in universities. The two certainly overlap to some extent, and it could be argued that one controls the other (Gingras & Gemme, 2006), but the two in the end remain different. To be closer to perfectly representing the dynamics at play in the reproduction of the field of forest research, I would need to also take into account the specifically academic forces and struggles at play and how they influence the training of forest researchers. For example, the composition of students’ supervisory committees, the requirements for doctoral comprehensive examinations, and the criteria for the tenure and promotion of faculty members are all based on university policies that reflect the evolution of struggles occurring in relative autonomy from the scientific field. But the dynamics of the academic field were beyond my reach as I concentrated my efforts on the scientific and forest-sector forces at play in the training of forest researchers. The only specifically academic forms of capital I will discuss here are grades and degrees, which I see as proxy measures of scientific capital for 10 The concept of organizational field emerged from DiMaggio & Powell (1991). They designate, by this term, “those organizations that, in the aggregate, [that] constitute a recognized area of institutional life: key suppliers, resource and product consumers, regulatory agencies, and other organizations that produce similar services or products” (DiMaggio & Powell, 1991, pp. 64-65). Emirbayer & Johnson (2008) push further the relationship between DiMaggio & Powell’s concept and the concepts of field, capital, and habitus in Bourdieu’s sociology. 33 students who still have not had specifically-scientific experiences. Further research will hopefully address this limitation. Methodology and study design The theory of fields, as Bourdieu developed it, came embedded in a methodological framework or, one could even say, is a methodological framework. Through his extensive empirical work, Bourdieu provided numerous examples of how one should study fields. Jenkins (2002, p. 86) summarizes the three steps suggested by Bourdieu: (1) What is the field’s position in relation to the field of power? (2) What is the map/objective structure of the positions that make the field? (3) What is the habitus of the agents and which constraints do they integrate? This study offers a better understanding of the reproduction, through research training, of a “field” whose autonomy is uncertain, the field of forest research. Against the tendency to methodological autonomization, I use the concept of field to study an area of the social space whose status as a relatively autonomous field cannot be assumed. Forest research is an area of knowledge that benefits from an institutional identity (through departments, faculties, journals, etc.) but whose affairs are likely to be the object of numerous outside interventions, and which likewise intervenes in the affairs of other fields. How can Bourdieu’s three-step investigation process be adapted to the study of a potentially heteronomous field such as forest research? I suggest that one should first localize the heteronomous field under study within (or in relation to) the field of power but, more broadly, within the social space, in relation to other fields. As in studies like Homo Academicus (Bourdieu, 1984b, 1988) and Bourdieu and Christin’s analysis of the reform of housing policy in France (1990), this first step will require an inquiry into the field’s social history to grasp the factors leading to its emergence 34 and conditions of possibility. Second, one should seek to map the structure of capital within that field, additionally examining how capital flows from the outside toward the inside of the field, and vice versa. Third, the trajectories, habitus, and positions taken by agents not only within but also in-between fields, and their interactions, should be examined. The approach of Bourdieu and his collaborators usually combined qualitative and quantitative methods. The former primarily allowed them to assess whether or not there was a separate field, to determine the field’s specific stake(s), and to identify the properties of agents which were efficient in the field, i.e. which would then allow them to determine the agents’ specific weight in the field. The latter would also be used to locate a given field within the broader social space, but most notably would build on the efficient variables identified to statistically map the social space of the field and the positions within it, usually relying on correspondence analysis. This study, as it approaches an area of knowledge production – forest research – that has not been submitted to field analysis previously, was focused on the exploratory phase, combining a statistical overview with qualitative material to locate forest research in the social space, find what is at stake, and understand the determinants of agents’ trajectories within the field and beyond its area of influence. The classic next step of field analysis – the precise drawing of the field’s structure and the identification of positions within it – will be left to future researchers. Methodological approach The impetus for this research project arose from previous work on the graduate student experience, for which the main data collection instrument was a survey (Gemme & Gingras, 2005a). The survey allowed us to grasp at once the experience of a wide range of graduate students, and started to shed light on some relationships between the experience of researchers-in-training and their professional perspectives. But for one who decided to train 35 in the social sciences to satisfy a deep curiosity about how people lead their lives, questionnaires proved to be frustrating. The survey findings revealed the tremendous diversity of graduate research arrangements, and I found that a single set of questions could not capture the richness of researchers’ trajectories. I found that, to gain depth, I would have to sacrifice some breadth. Setting aside the multi-site approach of the previous study, I decided to locate my doctoral research within a single university and a single unit of that university. Guided, but not constrained, by Bourdieu’s theory of fields, I have used an ethnographic case study method, combining quantitative and qualitative methods to examine the training of forest research students and the outcomes of their education. The main research question I aimed to elucidate through this study is: How are researchers trained in the heteronomous field of forest research? Secondary questions included: 1. Is there such a thing as a heteronomous field of forest research and, if so, how is it located in relation to the field of power, to the global social space, and to other fields? 2. What form(s) of capital have currency within the field of forest research? Where is valuable capital obtained and how is it used? 3. Which agents are involved in the reproduction of the field and the training of new recruits within it, and what are their respective effects? 4. What are the positions, strategies, and trajectories of the recruits within the heteronomous field of forest research, or in relation to it? 36 5. What habitus is acquired by those training within the field or, in other words, what are the schemes of perception and action that they integrate as a second nature? I sought to inscribe this ethnographic case study in the legacy of past field researchers from the sociology and anthropology of the sciences (Forsythe, 2002; Gusterson, 2004; Latour & Woolgar, 1980; Rabinow, 1996; Traweek, 1992) and from the sociology of education (Becker, Geer, Hughes, & Strauss, 1977; D. Fisher, 1990; MacLeod, 1995; Willis, 1981). As LeCompte and Schensul remind us, ethnography is, “quite literally, [...] ‘writing about groups of people’” (1999, p. 21) from a cultural perspective. This is a study of the group of agents involved in forest research at or around one organization – the Faculty of Forestry at the University of British Columbia – including graduate students, faculty members, and many others, and the patterns of action and perception that they share. In other words, this is not a study of individual psychological factors that determine personal decisions. The latter, instead, will be examined in their social context. Culture can be defined in two ways: on the one hand, as a “mental phenomenon, that is, as consisting in what people know, believe, think, understand, feel or mean about what they do” and, on the other hand, “in terms of what people actually do (as observed) as opposed to what they say they do (as reported), or as “norms” (the expected) versus “practices” (the actual)” (LeCompte & Schensul, 1999, p. 22). In Bourdieusian terms, these two dimensions are embodied in agents as the habitus. Culture is also seen “within economic and political contexts that are marked by distinctive social arrangements, or how people relate to one another in institutions” (1999, p. 23). The latter are understood as the conjuncture in Bourdieu’s theory or, in other words, the context which shapes the habitus and triggers it to become enacted in a range of actions, strategies, and perceptions. 37 LeCompte and Schensul offer a list of the many circumstances in which ethnographic research might be appropriate, many of which apply to this project: Ethnography should be used to : define the problem when the problem is not clear; define the problem when it is complex and embedded in multiple systems or sectors; identify participants when the participants, sectors, or stakeholders are not yet known or identified; clarify the range of settings where the problem or situation is occurring at times when the settings are not fully identified, known or understood; explore the factors associated with the problem in order to understand and address them, or to identify them when they are not known; document a process; describe unexpected or unanticipated outcomes; (...) answer questions that cannot be addressed with other methods or approaches... (LeCompte & Schensul, 1999, p. 30) This description fits well with the description by Bourdieu and Christin (1990) of how they identified the efficient agents and efficient variables for the field of public housing: at first, the exhaustive list of agents and variables is not known, but through exploratory work, interviews, document analysis, etc. the researchers achieved a more definitive list of individuals playing a role in the definition of French housing policy, including the characteristics that contributed to their capacity to play that role. As the objective of this study is to verify the existence of a field of forest research (as observed through its effects) and to explore its range of participants as well as the dynamics of its reproduction, both internally and in relation to other fields, the ethnographic approach serves the purpose well. Multiple sources of evidence were considered in the course of this research project, as is common in case studies (Yin, 2003). Interviews were the core method of data collection employed, but I also rely on documents, databases, and participant observation to reconstruct the structure in which forest research practices and the training of new researchers in this field are embedded. 38 Choice of case: the UBC Faculty of Forestry At the time of the design of this research project, forest research was assumed to be an example of a heteronomous field, and Master’s and Ph.D. programs were thought to constitute the main devices through which that field is reproduced. The scope of a doctoral dissertation and the limited time available to collect and analyze empirical material – less than two years – called for a thoughtful selection of an accessible case to represent forest research. I chose to study the University of British Columbia’s Faculty of Forestry in Vancouver. Forestry education at UBC started at the beginning of the 20th century and the Faculty, which was established in 1951, currently consists of three departments: Forest Resources Management, Forest Sciences, and Wood Science. Four graduate programs, which are centrally administered in the Dean’s office, are offered: the Ph.D., the M.Sc. (Master of Science), and the M.A.Sc. (Master of Applied Science, earned by trained engineers) are research-based programs, while a course-based M.F. (Master of Forestry) is also available. Only the first three – the research-based programs – are included in this study, as the contact of M.F. students with research activities is limited. The history and environmental conditions of British Columbia lay a specific context for UBC’s Faculty of Forestry, which is different from that of other provinces. In each Canadian province, the periods and patterns of settlement interacted with the nature and accessibility of forest resources (species and landscape), resulting in a different range of challenges for the human communities depending on the land (Drushka, 2003). At the same time, all Canadian schools of forestry operate within the same constitutional regime, benefit from similar arrangements for the funding of research, interact with similarly structured organizations (provincial government ministries and agencies), and have a number of 39 partners in common (Canadian Forest Service, professional organizations, industry representatives, research consortia, civil society organizations, etc.). They are also united within the Association of University Forestry Schools of Canada, which indicates that they see themselves as having something in common. There are good reasons to believe that an in- depth understanding of the situation and context of forest research at one institution allows for some careful generalization to other institutions, as long as the specific contexts are taken into consideration. The better understanding of the British Columbia context for graduate forest education and research provided by this study will provide a base to extend this project to contrasting provincial settings and to other countries, as the local dynamics of forest use are increasingly impacted by world markets, international agreements, and other global processes (Hayden, 2003; Tsing, 2005). While the Faculty of Forestry seemed like the obvious place to look for forest research, there are other forest researchers at UBC whom are not affiliated to the Faculty of Forestry. A simple search in the university’s directory of experts reveals that there are researchers in the Faculty of Applied Sciences, in the Faculty of Arts, in the Faculty of Science, and in the School of Business who list forests or wood as areas of expertise. There are, for example, a number of pulp and paper researchers in Engineering. The vast majority of faculty members who tackle problems related to forests and their products (wood and other derivates) are nonetheless located in the Faculty of Forestry. In the future, systematically comparing forest research and researchers from Forestry to those of other units on campus would offer insight on the specific organizational characteristics of the Faculty of Forestry. Access and preliminary fieldwork Access to the Faculty of Forestry was granted by the faculty’s Dean (Jack Saddler) and by the Associate Dean of Graduate Education and Research (Cindy Prescott), with the 40 informal support of the President of the Forestry Graduate Students Association (Alex Plattner), in June of 2007. During the preliminary phase of the fieldwork, in the Fall of 2007, I was invited to present my research to the senior management team of the Faculty, and then to the faculty members in the context of their respective departmental meetings. I was given access to office space which I shared with five graduate students. During that period, I started attending public events within the Faculty of Forestry and audited the course Forestry in British Columbia, meant to introduce international students and those without a forestry background to forestry practices in the province. I wrote fieldnotes and entries in my research journal throughout this phase of fieldwork. In November 2007, I started approaching individual faculty members to gain access to their research group. A list of faculty members to approach was prepared with the intention of representing the diversity of situations present in the Faculty of Forestry. Attempts were made to balance rank, sex, department affiliation, and areas of expertise. I discussed the initial list of 20 faculty members – within which I intended to recruit only five to seven – with the Associate Dean of Graduate Education. She only notified me that one of the faculty members I had identified was shortly going to leave. She also answered my questions about the number of students or areas of expertise of some of the faculty members I had pre- selected. I then randomly chose one faculty member per department within my list, and progressively contacted more faculty members until I had successfully recruited at least one group per department and a total of five groups. Most first contacts, through email, were successful, although a small number of faculty members ignored my initial request or declined to participate for reasons seemingly unrelated to my study. For each group, the objective was to collect data through participant observation in group meetings and to interview as many group members as possible, including current and 41 former students, post-doctoral fellows, research associates, and the group head. I also intended to organize shadowing sessions with individual graduate students. According to the UBC Behavioural Research Ethics Board requirements, I needed to secure consent from all group members to proceed (Appendix 2). The consent procedure varied based on each group’s circumstances: for those whose students were mostly working remotely, initial contact was established through email, whereas I attended the meetings of groups who gathered on a regular basis. For all groups in which members (beyond the head) were approached, access was granted as nobody refused to allow the research to proceed. Most of the individuals I met were enthusiastic and supportive of the research, although some did not wish to be interviewed or shadowed. Gaining access to the non-academic collaborators of the participants to my study proved more difficult. My plan had been to get in touch with this category of participants during shadowing sessions, while I accompanied graduate students into their research activities. As such shadowing opportunities were rare, my opportunities to meet the non- academics I needed to talk with were diminished. Other attempts to reach such external collaborators were made through the heads of the research groups I was working with. In one case the faculty member followed up but the external collaborator did not. In the other cases, the faculty members did not have identifiable partners to refer me to, or did not respond to my occasional demands to introduce me to their contacts. In the end, with the closure of my fieldwork period approaching, I enlisted the Associate Dean of Graduate Education for support and asked her to introduce me to adjunct faculty members whom she knew were regularly involved in student supervision. She sent introductory messages to five such faculty members, and all of them immediately responded positively to my request for an interview. 42 The process through which those contacts were made will be discussed as I present this portion of the study’s findings. Sources of evidence I mobilized many different sources of evidence over the course of this research process, including documents, publications and awards databases, participant observation, fieldnotes, and interviews. Recent and historic documents were sought in order to understand the broad context of forest research in Canada, the history and organization of the Faculty of Forestry, and the functioning of each research group. Beyond the secondary sources assembled by various scholars, I also used the two “informal history” books about the Faculty of Forestry (Kozak, 2004; Smith, 1990) and multiple documents produced internally as evidence: the Annual Reports published since 1991, the Branchlines newsletter published by the Faculty, and the Faculty’s web site. Newspaper articles mentioning Forestry faculty members were also gathered and analyzed. To add to the understanding of Forestry’s location in relation to forest research, to the University of British Columbia as a whole, and to society in general, I used a number of quantitative sources, including lists of publications extracted from ISI’s Science Citation Index (SCI), Social Science Citation Index (SSCI), and Arts and Humanities Citation Index (AHCI) databases, research funding from UBC’s research awards database, an internal database of Forestry alumni, and UBC’s institutional research office data on all faculties and schools. Participant observation proved to be an important way to become familiar with the culture of the Faculty of Forestry and also to build rapport with key informants, as I became 43 over time a familiar figure in the building. Participant observation sessions can be divided in two main groups: sessions conducted in group settings and individual shadowing sessions with graduate students. I entered the field at the beginning of the academic year, at the same time as most graduate students, and attended orientation events, visited the buildings and facilities, set up my workplace in the office assigned to me by the Associate Dean, etc. I participated, as an auditor, in the Forestry in British Columbia course (FOR547), a course meant to introduce international students and those not initially trained in forestry to forest practices and policies in British Columbia. I also attended the first session of the Technical Communication Skills I course (FOR544), which is mandatory for all Master’s students, in order to introduce myself and my research project to the incoming class, and to gain insight about the background of the students entering the Master’s program. I also played a participant-observer role in other public group settings such as meetings, seminars, lectures, public events, and social events. I had the opportunity to participate to research group meetings in two of the five groups that were included in the study. In those two groups, the head was keen to invite me to every single meeting, and I was included on the group’s mailing list. I was also invited to social functions at the supervisors’ homes, invitations I had to decline for scheduling reasons. In two other labs, I attended one meeting in order to present my research project, but there were no further opportunities for observation. In one of those latter two cases, there were simply no group meetings held during the period when I was available to observe them. In the other group, there were irregular meetings but getting myself invited to them proved difficult: from what I could gather, the meetings were often held with external research collaborators, whom the head of the lab seemed to think would be uncomfortable in the presence of an observer. 44 The only meeting I could have attended was scheduled at a time when I was unavailable to attend. The fifth group never meets, as its members are seldom in town at the same time. Shadowing sessions with individual participants, which I had intended to be conducted systematically, turned out to be more difficult to arrange than I had hoped. Nonetheless, I conducted shadowing sessions with seven different students, at the rate of one, two, or three sessions each. I also attended a few thesis defences, but formally observed only one of them. I also observed some of the students I interviewed give talks or participate to a poster session in public settings. Each of these sessions was an opportunity to learn about the students’ work in an informal context, and in some cases to make myself useful by helping the students in their work. I did not, however, systematically carry such observations with all, or even a significant proportion, of the graduate students who participated in my study. Many factors converged to reach this unfortunate result. First, students spend the better part of the academic year doing office-based work such as reading, programming, and writing at the computer, and having me sitting there as they did it appeared to be of little appeal to most of them. Conscious of the students’ reluctance and unwilling to be a burden as they – as I did – struggled to complete their degrees, I did not insist when a student did not respond to my suggestion that I would like to observe them in such a context. As for participant observation in the students’ fieldwork, my own constraints might have limited the data I could collect as I was unable to commit myself to field trips to remote locations which were either long (more than a week) or organized at the last minute (as students needed, for example, to wait for a certain type of weather pattern to collect data). Finally, after mentioning the possibility of attending one-on-one supervisory meetings or committee meetings, I was unwilling to insist and repeatedly remind the students and supervisors about this option. In an informal conversation at an early stage of the project, one faculty member told me that he was 45 concerned that the presence of an observer would further worry some of his students who were already, at times, emotionally strained by the thesis- or dissertation-writing process. While this faculty member’s group did participate in the project in the end, this casual remark left me particularly careful not to intrude in contexts where the students could fear to lose face. Such reluctance on my part may have deprived me from one of the most fruitful contexts for observation, but I will leave it to future researchers to design an approach to overcome such sensitivities. In the field, I adopted a peripheral membership role. Adler and Adler (1987) describe the peripheral membership role as the most marginal and least committed membership role that can be adopted by ethnographic researchers (compared to active or complete membership). As such, I did not have a functional role within the Faculty of Forestry. I never concealed my role as a researcher from the Faculty of Education although I did not continuously inform all in attendance of the exact nature of my project if it risked interrupting the flow of the ongoing situation. I never purposely failed to disclose my role or conceal it, and it made for great conversations during social events. At times, I slipped into temporary functional roles as I offered my services to the organizers of social events or to graduate students for the conduct of their field or laboratory work. I flipped burgers, helped with room set up, mixed innocuous substances under a flume hood, carried gear, and penciled tree heights on a data collection form. My lack of qualification and skill as a forest researcher, as well as my flimsy rubber boots, prevented me from being mistaken for a regular member of the field, although my agility at separating slices of cheese was noted by a respected dendrologist and barbecue organizer. Interviews were the core form of data collection and allowed me to acquire in-depth information about the trajectories and current activities of graduate students (current and 46 former), faculty members, staff, administrators, and collaborators of the Faculty of Forestry. Thirty-eight (38) of the interviewees were affiliated to one of the five groups I studied, while nine were not. Forty-seven individuals in total were interviewed (two of whom had to be interviewed twice to cover all of the topics). Table 1 lists the primary affiliations of the individuals I interviewed. Interviews were semi-structured in that there was a set opening question (about the current activities of the interviewee) and a number of topics which subsequently had to be covered; however, much freedom could be taken in the actual conduct of the conversation. The topics discussed included: current activities related to forest research, educational and professional background, and projects, aspirations, and expectations for the future. Opinions about forest-related issues or other matters were sometimes explored as well. For international students, the (sometimes, but not always, temporary) migratory experience was also discussed. Detailed interview grids are attached as appendices 5 and 6. All interviews were recorded digitally and transcribed verbatim. The transcript was then offered to the participant for review. Participants were allowed complete discretion in revising the transcript, and could add, remove, change, or entirely discard the transcript. Some declined the opportunity to review their transcript but most participants took the time to read it and bring minor corrections. Only three participants asked for significant sections of their transcript to be removed. Throughout this dissertation, efforts will be made to protect the anonymity of the participants who accepted to be interviewed. Their names or research topics will not be disclosed. A random name generator was used to attribute pseudonyms to participants to increase readability. A small number of student interviewees are or were supervised by a 47 faculty member who is jointly appointed between the Faculty of Forestry and another Faculty on campus. They are included in the analysis regardless of the Faculty they were assigned to. Table 1 Primary status of interviewees at the time of their first interview Primary status Male Female Total Administrator or staff 2 2 4 Faculty member (any rank) 4 3 7 Master’s student 7 5 12 Ph.D. student 8 4 12 Former student (Master’s or Ph.D.) 5 0 5 Post-doctoral fellow or research associate 1 1 2 Adjunct faculty member 5 0 5 Total 32 15 47 Data analysis The various sources of quantitative data were analyzed with descriptive statistics. The qualitative data – including short documents, researcher profiles, newspaper articles, fieldnotes, and interviews – were introduced in a qualitative data analysis software (NUD*IST 6). Documents were coded according to two main grids: one grid included the concepts from the theoretical framework while the other grid allowed me to break down the material (particularly the interview) into themes very much along the lines of the interview grid. Reports were generated from the coding and further analysis was generated in table format, either in computer-based spreadsheets or on paper. Writing was also used as an analysis tool, as I wrote numerous journal entries about the data as I collected and analyzed it. To ensure the internal validity of the findings presented in this dissertation, and offer a truthful representation of what I observed, care was taken to analyze the discourse of research participants and other pieces of evidence in their context. I was particularly careful not to interpret interviewees’ comments outside of their context, and to do so I constantly 48 referred to summary sheets that included all aspects of individual participants’ experience while I analyzed data on a specific theme across participants. I was also able to triangulate different sources to assess their validity. In particular, I could compare supervisors’ discourse on student recruitment to the actual composition of their student group, or their actual sources of funding (based on university data) to their verbal claims on the topic. By combining interviews with graduate students and with faculty members in the same study, as well as collecting data through participant observation, I was made conscious of the multiple perspectives cohabiting in the Faculty of Forestry, a diversity I have been careful to represent in the following chapters. This study design also makes me confident about the reliability of the study. I do not claim that the limited sampling I could afford has exhausted the diversity of UBC’s Faculty of Forestry, but my prolonged contact with the organization, its members, and some of its counterparts outside of the university allows me to feel sure enough that another researcher entering the same field with similar research questions and a related theoretical framework would not come to opposed conclusions. As I wrote successive versions of the findings chapters, I was often caught between the desire to tell a richer story and my commitment to maintain the confidentiality of the participants’ contribution. The Faculty of Forestry is a small world that is also incredibly diverse, thus a single colourful detail can lead to the identification of a faculty member or of a student. I chose to err on the side of caution, even if sometimes it meant sacrificing my desire to offer readers a thick description of the processes of reproduction in the field of forest research. 49 The author in space This dissertation is a product of the massification of graduate education. Two reasons, one related to the author, and the other to the object of study, explain that it would not have been written 30 years ago. First, the conjuncture of my formative years has been exceptional in how it offered educational opportunities to a broader-than-ever range of pupils. The rush to increase the proportion of each generation that graduated from high school and earned some form of post- secondary credentials was a feature of educational systems all over the developed world. In French-speaking Quebec, the commitment to educate the masses grew even stronger as the widely-held conviction that the province was backward lead to ambitious collective schemes to “catch up” with neighbouring, English-speaking jurisdictions. By the time I was of schooling age, it was taken for granted that, the daughter and granddaughter of French- Canadian small-scale farmers, I would not only graduate from high school but also proceed to cégep. Nobody frowned when I entered university, although by the time I started graduate school my relatives no longer tried to understand of what use, if any, my studies would be. The fact that I received, as a student, a living wage from the provincial research council – another institution established to close the gap with the province’s science-rich neighbours – probably prevented me from receiving a negative sanction for what would have been, until recently, a daring move for one who did not inherit much cultural capital. But I am far from alone in this situation, as Quebec not only has now caught up with the rest of North America in matters of graduate education, but now has more graduate students per capita than the rest of Canada and the United States (Conseil national des cycles supérieurs, Fédération étudiante universitaire du Québec, 2008). 50 Second, until recently, my research object was barely there. In 1967, there were only 27 graduate students in the Faculty of Forestry, and in 1981 there were 84 (Smith, 1990). By 1991-1992, according the Faculty’s annual report, there were 134 graduate students. Today, there are approximately 250 of them, about half of whom are doctoral students. For the period since the early 1990s, the growth rate of the graduate student population in Forestry is comparable to that of Canadian graduate studies in general (Canadian Association for Graduate Studies, 2008). However, Forestry graduate studies at UBC between the late 1960s and the early 1990s grew at a breathtaking speed, as the number of graduate students was multiplied by almost five in just over 20 years. Such a growth is also in part to be attributed to a desire to “catch up,” in this case with the rest of the university, as Forestry was warned in the early 1980s by UBC’s central administration that it should increase its efforts to secure NSERC research funds (Smith, 1990). As we will see in chapter 4, it did, to the point that it now trails only the Faculty of Medicine for its amount of research funding per faculty member. While there is no quantitative data available on the socio-economic status of graduate students in Canada, the findings I will present later in this dissertation indicate that Forestry graduate students may be, in many cases, individuals who, like me, would not have had access to Master’s and Ph.D. degrees only a generation ago. Since I started university, I have often found myself in a space of tension between my primary habitus, inherited from countless generations who worked the land for their livelihood, and the thick layers of schooling, readings and academic relationships that have also shaped my body and mind. I remain spontaneously skeptical of scholarly approaches to reality, yet have so far earned a living by turning people’s experience into written knowledge. I do not live in a space of acute hysteresis: after all, thousands have had a trajectory similar to my own as the doors of graduate schools were flung open over the last three decades. But my 51 trajectory in the academic world has circumvented more autonomous fields – such as sociology – in favour of science studies and education, allowing me to continue working on problems which emerged beyond the walls of the ivory tower, translating them enough to earn academic legitimacy but trying to avoid losing sight of the problems’ origins. The Faculty of Forestry as an organization and the individual students and faculty members within it may be in a social space which is analogous to my own. Research and graduate education in Forestry may now be dominated, numerically, by non-foresters, but one cannot ignore the legacy of pragmatism and the conciliatory approach – core values of the profession – which are literally built into the faculty. Regardless of their initial training, nearly all of the students and faculty members I interviewed stressed the importance of going “out there” in the world, whether it was in the forest, in a company, in government, or in an NGO, to experience nature and society with their own senses. What further education and research would buy them, even temporarily, was a shelter to think just a few steps away from the elements. This is also what I came for when I decided to do a doctorate. This dissertation reflects the tension I experience by exploring a space of tension – the Faculty of Forestry – in which people like me pursue ever-elusive answers to questions that sit somewhere between the global social space and scholarly contemplation. As the researcher’s social position is often analogous to that of her research object, the multiplication of students like me probably explains the increasing numbers of dissertations like this one. 52 CHAPTER 3 HETERONOMOUS FORCES IN RESEARCH TRAINING In Canada, institutions of higher education – universities for the most part – have a monopoly over the certification of scientific researchers in the natural and social sciences through their graduate programs. This monopoly, however, does not prevent research training, just like all other educational endeavours, to be the object of a struggle between two principles of legitimation: the autonomous logic of the scientific field, which favours cultural capital, and the heteronomous forces whose strength lies in non-specifically academic assets, economic capital in particular. Depending on the historical period and on the specific location within the academic field, the balance of forces between these two principles varies, granting more or less ground and resources to “pure,” “disinterested,” autonomous research (knowledge for its own sake) compared to “applied,” “pragmatic,” heteronomous research. The latter’s purpose is to solve problems defined by agents located outside of the scientific field, such as deviance (in criminology), pest control (in agriculture), or cancer (in medicine). In all likelihood, research training in universities will be affected by the balance of forces between the two principles at a given time and location within the field. In this chapter, I will examine the forms of research training that correspond to the autonomous and to the heteronomous principles. More specifically, after discussing the definition of “research training,” I will summarize its ideal-typical process, i.e. the apprenticeship located in a university setting and involving only students and faculty members, in the most autonomous quadrant of the scientific field. I will then examine contemporary manifestations of the heteronomous logic in relation to research training: I will introduce the various ways graduate students are more or less vigorously encouraged to tailor their research projects to non-specifically scientific purposes, usually through university- 53 industry-government partnerships, and the few studies assessing their impact. For the most part, I will focus my attention on the situation prevailing in the physical and biological sciences, mathematics, and engineering, which I will loosely call “the sciences” for lack of a better label. Defining research training Research is an object of social struggle. Because being recognized as “doing research” brings rewards, agents fight to establish a definition and limits to the field of research that include the type of practices they exhibit. In universities, research performance is a criterion for awarding tenure and promotion, making the question of “what counts as research?” a crucial one for faculty members whose production might be hard to account for in terms of peer-reviewed articles. Researchers who aim outside of their peers’ gaze and translate the knowledge they produce into other types of cultural products, like theatrical plays (Butterwick & Dawson, 2005) or commercial outcomes like patents and company start- ups (Siegel, Waldman, & Link, 2003) might also feel that their work is inappropriately recognized by their institution. They may even be denied tenure, leading to legal battles (Fournier, Gingras, & Mathurin, 1988). Research training will be defined here as the organized processes by which individuals acquire the knowledge, skills, and attitudes associated with research as a professional practice or, in other words, the researcher’s habitus. I deliberately use the term “training” instead of “education” in order to stress the internalization of ways of thinking, doing, and being that are expected to result from those processes, becoming like a second nature for the trained individuals. Throughout this dissertation, I adopt a minimal definition of research, defining it as systematic inquiry with uncertain outcomes. The term “systematic” denotes the deliberate character of the endeavour, and it is here assumed that researchers use 54 concepts and methods that are – or at least should be – made explicit. By referring to uncertainty, I mean that the results of the research are not known in advance, nor is it even guaranteed that there will be results. The concept of research here stands as shorthand for scientific research. I realize that this definition in itself is an object of struggle; however the debate on the definition of science and research lies beyond the scope of my work. At the moment, most activities associated with research training in Canada occur within universities and, more specifically, in the context of degree programs for graduate (also called postgraduate) students. Additional periods known as postdoctoral fellowships could be considered to constitute a further level of research training. Initiation to research sometimes starts at the undergraduate level, and research training might be happening outside the institutional context of university degrees. Still, Master’s and, most importantly, PhD degrees constitute the most widely recognized certification processes for the broadly defined profession of researcher. Let me stress that this essay is not about graduate education, but about research training; university programs defined as “graduate” by institutions will only be considered if their primary goal is to train researchers.11 The traditional apprenticeship model of research training How do lay people become researchers? What are the processes associated with their transformation? The doctoral degree has been established as the most important gate of entry to the research profession, at least symbolically, and evolved over the centuries to follow the development of universities. They have been used, since the beginning, as a selection mechanism to restrict access to faculty positions. Historically, and although non-doctors have been allowed to teach in universities under limited circumstances, only doctors are granted 11 A discussion of the transformations of graduate education and the proliferation of so-called professional degrees is available in Scott, Brown, Lunt, & Thorne (2004). 55 the duty and privilege of fostering the next generation of academics (Noble, 1994). The degree has been at the core of the identity of the academic profession (Henkel, 2000) since long before research became prominent in universities. Research as we know it was not always a mission of the university, which for more than half a millennium was more concerned with the conservation and transmission of knowledge than with its creation. The most common doctoral degree known to us – the Philosophiæ Doctor or Ph.D. – is a radical innovation of modern times which accompanied the foundation by von Humbolt of the University of Berlin (Noble, 1994). Whereas formerly the doctorate had served to crown meritorious erudites, the new degree added the requirement that the aspiring doctor should produce an original piece of research, which would be made public through the dissertation or thesis. As I will discuss in the next section, recent variations on the PhD theme suggest that another layer of competence development is being added to the doctoral process. However, in this section, I will mainly address what is currently known as the “traditional” way to train scientific researchers in the English- speaking world and more specifically in North America. The North American model of doctoral education, developed initially in the United States but similar in Canada, is more structured than other national models (like the French and the British), integrating components like coursework and examinations. American (and Canadian) students, it is assumed, experience a sharper break between their “pre-advanced” education, which is not very specialized, and “advanced” education (Gumport, 1993). The usual sequence is well-known to us: a few years of prescribed course work, followed by examinations for advancement to candidacy, culminating in a dissertation that reflects original research done by the student under the guidance of a faculty committee. (Gumport, 1993, p. 226) 56 In some schools, this process can be divided over the course of two degrees (a Master’s and a PhD), the first requiring a higher volume of coursework and the second giving more weight to original research; in other schools, the requirements are integrated in a single degree, the PhD. Disciplines are the main community of reference for the identity of academics (Becher & Trowler, 2001; Henkel, 2000); in most cases, the discipline is translated institutionally as a department, to which faculty members belong while at the same time remaining associated with the invisible college of their disciplinary peers holding positions at other institutions (Crane, 1972). Through graduate education, and especially at the PhD level, faculty members tend to the reproduction of their discipline, attempting to transform lay people – the admitted doctoral students – into members of their discipline through “a protracted status passage, or set of status passages” (Delamont, Parry, Atkinson, & Hiken, 1994, p. 149). The education they receive goes beyond the acquisition of the skills or knowledge required of the “research student:” … of equal – if not greater – significance is the development (or absence) of an “academic” identity. That is, an identification with intellectual traditions and groupings, with departments or disciplines, with academic peer-groups, networks, and learned societies. (…) He or she must also grapple with the more implicit, indeterminate facets of the intellectual life. (Delamont et al., 1994, p. 149 & 151) Among these implicit aspects are “a variety of cultural elements, traditions, folk heroes and heroines, myths, key examples, “sacred” texts, centres of excellence, scandals, cycles of fashion” (Delamont et al., 2000, p. 14). To be successful at becoming a member of the discipline, students must “map the internal topography of their discipline in terms of key individuals, locations, and texts. They [must] recognize genealogies of influence and inheritance” (Ibid.). Lovitts (2001) calls this representation of the discipline’s social space a 57 “cognitive map”. She uses the concept to explain the difference in graduation rates between disciplines, as some offer more opportunities for socialization and integration while others offer much less. As a general rule, doctoral students in the natural sciences and engineering are more likely to complete their degree program, and to complete it faster, than in the social sciences and humanities (Association canadienne pour les études supérieures, 2003; Berelson, 1960; W. G. Bowen & Rudenstine, 1992; Golde, 2005; Sheridan & Pyke, 1994; de Valero, 2001). Such differences can be explained by a careful examination of academic integration (or lack thereof) at the departmental level. For undergraduate students, social and academic integration are deemed essential. Graduate students, however, must primarily identify with the faculty members of their department, through whom they will become familiar with the discipline they are studying (Tinto, 1993). Graduate students are thus exposed to the “discipline as filtered by their department” (Golde, 2005), and have to integrate both the “great tradition” of their discipline and the “small traditions” of their department (Delamont et al., 2000). I will now describe the three main components of the traditional model (supervision, knowledge acquisition, and knowledge creation) before describing its expected outcomes. Supervision More than forty years ago, in the United States, Warren O. Hagstrom (1965) interviewed scientists to come up with what may be seen as the ideal-typical supervisory arrangement in the so-called “hard” sciences: a structured and rather hierarchic environment in which the student’s progression, on a daily basis (or almost) is supervised by an experienced professor but also by other members of the laboratory, including postdoctoral fellows. Terry Shinn (1988) also observed a similar structure in a more contemporary French physics laboratory, where doctoral students, at the bottom of the proverbial totem pole, carry 58 most of the work described elsewhere as “normal science” (Kuhn, 1970). For the laboratory- based graduate students, contacts with more experienced researchers happen nearly daily, and it seems usual to have weekly meetings with the supervisor to discuss the ongoing research and the difficulties encountered. This relatively close supervision contrasts with the less structured approach to supervision in the social sciences (W. G. Bowen & Rudenstine, 1992). For example, Holdaway (1995) observes, in a Canadian study, that supervisors in the sciences were more likely than those of other disciplines to see a role for themselves in supporting the efforts of their students to give papers at conferences and publish journal articles. The long period of isolation associated with fieldwork may be characteristic of some disciplines of the social sciences (Delamont et al., 2000), but also affects students in field- based natural sciences. In their study of the socialization of field ecologists, Roth & G. M. Bowen (2001) described how apprentice researchers can be left to their inexperienced selves to make decisions in the field without the support of their supervisors or of more experienced colleagues. Unfortunately, departments with a fieldwork or application component in the natural sciences, like ecology, geology, or forestry, tend to be multidisciplinary and, for that reason, somewhat neglected by researchers who study graduate education because it would introduce too many “complications” (W. G. Bowen & Rudenstine, 1992, p. 6). According to Delamont, Parry, Atkinson, & Hiken (1994), doctoral students in multidisciplinary areas in the social sciences primarily identified and designed their research from a disciplinary perspective and affiliated to a supervisor accordingly. However, this is a topic on which little research has been published, especially for the students who have studied in interdisciplinary programs throughout their university trajectory, i.e. from the undergraduate level. 59 Acquisition of prior knowledge Once admitted to a program, doctoral students face two main tasks: learn what is considered by his or her community of reference to be the knowledge already created on a given subject, and then produce new knowledge to contribute to the discipline (Noble, 1994). Whether the subject of that knowledge is defined (and how well) before the beginning of the familiarization with previously established knowledge seems to vary by discipline, as well as the level of exhaustiveness of that familiarization and the forms it takes. To describe how social and natural scientists locate themselves in relation to previous generations of researchers, Delamont, Parry and Atkinson (2000) refer to the concept of “personalized” and “positional” systems. When asked about their “genealogy,” to locate themselves in relation to others that came before them, natural scientists offer very factual and succinct stories. The scientific system is called positional because researchers “know their place” in the hierarchical structure of the laboratories they have inhabited, which offer a relatively clear hierarchy and a sense of pedagogic continuity between generations of students. The transfer of scientific capital from one generation to the next occurs in a direct and straightforward manner. Social scientists, on the other hand, offer rich biographical narratives linking personalities which might not even have been present in the same institution or even have lived in the same area. Such differences in identification reflect the ways in which young researchers become acquainted with their discipline’s legacy. In the sciences, according to Delamont and her team (2000), relevant pre-established knowledge in the form of ideas, materials and skills are encountered in the laboratory’s structure, methods, tools, and recent publications. Generations of students may transfer experiments, prototypes, or models to each other, each newcomer being asked to take the project, model or equation one step further than her or his predecessor. In the social sciences and humanities, on the 60 other hand, it is rare that another student will have worked on the very same topic before, and the new researcher will have to make her own trail through the literature. In those disciplines, the reliance on coursework and on comprehensive (or qualifying) examinations on the part of the department to ensure that students will acquire the relevant previous knowledge is more important than in the sciences. In a 1990-91 survey of department heads and experienced supervisors from five Canadian universities, Holdaway (1994) discovered that coursework was more important for faculty members in the humanities, where 89 per cent agreed on its importance, and in the social sciences (77 per cent) than in the sciences and engineering (66 per cent) and in the life sciences (56 per cent). Comprehensive examinations are also more important and consuming in the humanities and social sciences. The comprehensive examination requirements are thought in some disciplines to be a cause of the increased duration of doctoral studies, because students can prepare for months or even years, which has led some departments to reconsider and transform the requirements (Mullens, 2003). Creation of new knowledge The pièce de résistance of the doctorate since Humbolt is not an original interpretation of an old piece of knowledge but the contribution of new knowledge, a gift given to the disciplinary community in hopes of receiving recognition in return (Hagstrom, 1965). In Hagstrom’s days, full-length dissertations were probably still the norm, although a debated one (Berelson, 1960), and the supervisor and supervising committee were the only evaluators of students’ knowledge claims. An increasing number of faculty members, however, are in favour of replacing the dissertation by interrelated refereed journal articles, especially in the sciences (Holdaway, 1994), a situation which, based on recent observation, seems to have become mainstream. 61 The consensus is that the dissertation should “be an original and significant contribution to knowledge” but that, of course, leaves many questions up in the air: “what [is] sufficiently original and significant, what [is] contributory, and indeed, what [is] knowledge,” (Berelson, 1960, p. 160), questions which are left to the department or, I would say, to the supervisor and committee. It is only recently that researchers have started making implicit the implicit requirements of the doctorate (Lovitts, 2007). Some have observed that the requirements and expectations in the social sciences and humanities may have escalated to become “unrealistic” (W. G. Bowen & Rudenstine, 1992; Delamont, Atkinson, & Parry, 1997). In a similar vein, de Valero (2001) noted that departments which put more pressure on their students for a “significant” contribution to knowledge had lower completion rates. Conversely, departments with a high completion rate and short time-to-degree period – more likely to be in the natural sciences – were reported to have a different approach: As long as students were able to explain what they did, how they conducted the investigation, why they thought the results were not significant and suggested new ways to conduct future research, that was considered sufficient dissertation work. (de Valero, 2001, p. 357) Long before students can produce results, they need to identify a topic for their research. Generally, the aspiring researchers in the sciences perceive their work to be located “within the broader context of the scientific work in their area carried out by all the researchers in their laboratory” (Delamont et al., 1997, p. 86), with their supervisor basically choosing their topic for them (Ridding, 1996). In Hagstrom’s study (1965), students were reported by their advisors to be unable to identify a scientifically important topic, which explains that students only become involved after the planning stages of a research program. Because the students’ work is so closely tied to the work of their supervisor, Walford (1983) 62 warned against reforms which would only consider students as trainees: they also contribute to research and form an essential part of small research teams in particular. In 1960, Berelson was reporting that many lamented the practice of integrating students to sponsored research projects, which would push students towards “safe” topic certain to bring fast results on the topic of the professor’s grant. Hence, creativity was being “built out” of doctoral work, making the student a mere “cog in the senior professor’s wheel” (Berelson, 1960, p. 152). Knowing that, in engineering, students perceive that the research topic is jointly agreed on between themselves and their supervisor, yet see themselves as employees and their supervisors as a boss (Ridding, 1996), one may think that the trend of the 1960s might have become fully established, as least in some disciplines. In the social sciences and humanities, the situation significantly differs and students still express a strong ownership of their research projects, strongly valuing their autonomy (Delamont et al., 2000; Ridding, 1996). The process of choosing a topic in the more applied and interdisciplinary areas of the natural sciences does not seem to have been systematically studied so far. Outcomes Beyond the “contribution to knowledge” produced by the students, what are the outcomes of the doctoral process? According to Hagstrom, the effects on the students are profound, at least in the sciences: The socialization of scientists tends to produce persons who are so strongly committed to the central values of science that they unthinkingly accept them. (…) These commitments are the outcome of a prolonged training process, lasting well into adult life, in which the student is effectively isolated from competing vocational interests and in which he is extremely dependent on his teachers. (Hagstrom, 1965, p. 9) The taken-for-grantedness of the resulting way of practicing research is also highlighted by Delamont, Parry and Atkinson (2000): doctoral studies train academics who 63 have a clear, yet not codified, view of “what “counts” as research, and what “counts” as quality or originality” (p. 178). In other words, they have acquired a new scheme of perception and action, a new habitus. Having acquired academic “good taste,” the aspiring researchers are ready to put their new indeterminate skills to use in mainly one environment: academia. Taylor (2006) notes that success is defined by academics as a tenure-track position in a research university. Former students who access other positions, even if they are gainfully and satisfactorily employed, are likely to experience negative feelings, afraid to have disappointed their former supervisor. Whether to tell one’s supervisor about plans to go on the non-academic job market is a frequent topic of discussion on graduate student electronic discussion forums such as PhinisheD.org. Bourdieu (1988) and Mangematin & Robin (2003) bring nuance to this statement: aspiring academics and researchers can be expected to be loyal if they stand a reasonable chance of reaping benefits from their investments once their studies are over. As the prospects of attaining a position similar to that of their supervisor decrease, so does their loyalty to the world in which they were trained. Yet, even if they may be conscious of their low chances to become an academic, the perceptions of suitable jobs by Ph.D. recipients may not change, as exemplified by French research on life sciences (Louvel, 2008). Åkerlind (2008) reports that Australian postdoctoral researchers see research careers and academic positions as the only suitable careers for themselves, and do not even think that they are qualified for other jobs anyway: As long as postdocs are trained by academic researchers in an academic research setting, it seems inevitable that they will continue to aspire to academic and research-only jobs. (Åkerlind, 2008, p. 39) Yet, as Zur-Muehlen mentioned as early as 1978 in Canada, the academic job market might not always be able to absorb all PhD recipients and doctors will have to consider non- 64 academic jobs. In Quebec, the proportion of recent PhD recipients employed in tenure-track positions at the end of the 1990s was thought to be approximately 27 per cent (Conseil supérieur de l'éducation, 2003, p. 85); in the United States, the proportion of recent PhDs employed as academics hovered at approximately 50 per cent, but that number includes temporary assignments and teaching-only positions (Kannankutty & Kang, 2001). Interestingly, while some argue that PhD graduates are “too academic” for the prospects of the job market, others write that PhD students are ill-prepared for faculty positions (Austin, 2002), or that too many are turned off by a lifestyle they fail to perceive as meaningful (Golde, 2005). The training of researchers is an object of struggle: it seems to be as difficult to agree on a description of what is actually going on than on what should be happening, resulting in the multiplication of variations along the lines of traditional researcher training. One of these variations is the increased effort to integrate student researchers in projects involving university-industry and/or university-government research partnerships. Cooperative research: a “new” context for training? In developed countries, policy trends since the 1990s have emphasized funding for research “in context of application” (Gibbons et al., 1994) or, in other words, “relevant” research conducted to respond to the needs of society, which often means of the economy. By changing the funding patterns, even marginally, such policies are effectively transforming the work of an important group of users of research funds: university professors (Slaughter & Leslie, 1997). Consequently, the socialization of aspiring researchers will also be transformed, especially as policy-makers directly target graduate education for reform (Milot, Couture, Leblanc, & Gingras, 2003). This section will briefly introduce the types of measures which affect the training of researchers in universities, and then present and discuss the 65 studies which have empirically examined the impact of these various measures on student researchers. Although this area of study still suffers from a paucity of empirical studies, there are now enough published studies to prevent us from being confined to discussion of potential difficulties as was the case only a few years ago (Stephan, 2001). Modes of integration Two main types of arrangements are used to integrate graduate students to research collaboration with non-university partners.12 First is indirect support through grants that fund collaborative research centres or teams, which create a new type of learning environment for the students supervised by the involved faculty members. Second is direct support offered to research students who commit to some form of collaborative work with non-university organizations, either in the form of a scholarship (which can be in part funded by non- academic monies) or of a contract. Graduate students also can be employed as research assistants to work on a project sponsored by a non-university organization such as a private company or a government agency. I will here only focus on work leading to the preparation of a thesis or dissertation. Many types of university-based arrangements belong to the category of indirect support. Some grants are obtained by already-established university units who commit to collaborate with one or many non-university sponsors to work more or less jointly on a topic which is relevant to the external sponsor. Usually, the outside partners will be participating financially to the costs of the research, but research council funds will also be involved and a government agency administers the program. The proposals submitted under such schemes are screened for both scientific quality and relevance, with the potential contribution to the 12 The expression “non-university partners” refers to any type of organization, outside of universities, that can be involved in partnerships, including companies from the private sector, government organizations, and non-government organizations. Those outside organizations may be for profit or not-for-profit. 66 training of researchers being part of the criteria that measure scientific quality. Examples of such university-based schemes include, in Canada, the Collaborative Research and Development Grants, the Strategic Network Grants, and the Research Partnership Agreements (Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada, 2008a, 2008b, 2008c), as well as the Australian Research Council’s Linkage Projects program (Australian Research Council, 2008). Another typical way for governments to support collaborative research between universities and industrial organizations is the creation of hybrid institutions located somehow between member universities, firms and government agencies. Training researchers, or some other form of education (such as the continuing education of industrial employees), usually is part of the mandate of such hybrid research centres, and despite usually being incorporated as individual organizations separate from the university, they are often hosted on a university campus. A notorious example in Canada is the Networks of Centres of Excellence program (Atkinson-Grosjean, 2006; D. Fisher, Atkinson-Grosjean, & House, 2001), while both the United States and Australia have a program funding “collaborative research centres.” The direct funding category comprises of mainly two types of scholarships. In Australia and the United Kingdom, scholarships from respectively the Australian Postgraduate Awards (Industry) Scheme [APA(I)] (Powles, 1994, 1996) and the UK Cooperative Award in Science and Engineering (Science & Technology Facilities Council, 2008) are awarded to the students, but the proposal in itself is prepared jointly by university and industry representatives. The latter apply to the funding agencies and then, if successful, advertise the student position and find an appropriate candidate to fill it. In Canada, the NSERC Industrial Postgraduate Scholarship program (Natural Sciences and Engineering 67 Research Council of Canada, 2008d) and Quebec’s research council’s Industrial Innovation Scholarships, now jointly offered with NSERC (Fonds québécois de recherche sur la nature et les technologies, 2008; Gemme, Gingras, & Milot, 2005) work differently. Students write the proposal and secure the participation of both a university supervisor and an industrial partner. The French Conventions industrielles de formation par la recherche, or CIFRE (Lévy, 2005a) are similarly organized. In all cases, the funding awarded to the successful research students is jointly provided by a government research council and the non-academic partner organization. More recently, a new direct funding scheme emerged from a research centre in the field of applied mathematics, the Mathematics of Information Technology and Complex Systems (MITACS) Network of Centres of Excellence. The purpose of the program was to expose graduate students to industrial applications of their discipline by offering industrial scholarships partly funded by non-academic organizations. With additional funding from provincial and federal governments, the program has now been expanded to most research areas, and took the name of ACCELERATE CANADA (MITACS, 2009). During the period covered by their ACCELERATE scholarship, however, students may or may not be working on their thesis or dissertation. Effects on the training of the student researchers A small body of literature has accumulated since the 1980s on the actual experience of research students involved in some sort of collaboration with industrial or other non- academic partners. Empirical studies are scarce but nonetheless available for many countries. Unfortunately, they can be difficult to uncover due to the absence of a common vocabulary and to the failure of researchers to realize that they are not necessarily the first to study the phenomenon. Moreover, the studies are often sponsored by the research councils that fund the programs, and the findings published as reports or research notes, which may not be 68 readily available. I will here examine the results of the few empirical studies that I have been able to identify. Findings from the United States, France, Sweden, Australia, and Canada will be summarized. No studies from the United Kingdom have been found, although they must exist. These studies certainly do not offer an exhaustive overview of the situation, but bringing them together reveals some interesting trends. It should be noted that only literature in English and French has been included. Additional linguistic skills would certainly allow for the recovery of more literature, in German and Japanese in particular. This review is organized by country, as the policies and programs examined are, for the most part, embedded in national innovation policies and/or supported by national research organizations or councils. United States As early as 1987, Gluck, Blumenthal and Stoto published in Research Policy the results of an important survey of life sciences graduate students and postdoctoral fellows in the United States, with hopes of finding answers to the following questions: Does industry funding of university research and training affect the educational experiences of students and fellows or their subsequent career choices? Does involvement in or exposure to UIRRs [University-Industry Research Relations] influence trainees’ scientific or commercial productivity? (Gluck et al., 1987, p. 327) They collected data from 693 respondents from the most important American research universities in the life sciences, including many in the field of biotechnology. They divided respondents in three categories based on the source of their funding, distinguishing students who received direct industrial support (19 per cent of their sample) from those with indirect support (i.e., involved through their supervisor) and finally those without any industrial support. The survey results indicated that students with direct industrial support experienced their training slightly differently than the other two types of students. They had 69 significantly less publications but were more likely to be involved in patent applications. Student categories did not differ significantly in their exposure to industrial secrecy. Indirectly supported students more frequently reported being affected by publication delays and felt more reluctant to talk about their research. However, the authors of the study report high rates of no response to these last two questions, and believe that respondents might lack the necessary information about their rights and responsibilities. Constraints on topic choice, post-graduation employment, obligations to train others or to do consulting work were imposed on approximately one third of the respondents with direct support. Interestingly, the professional aspirations of the student researchers did not vary much: although it is true that those with direct support were slightly more interested in industrial careers, academic positions were still the preference of the majority, notwithstanding the source of funding, which led the authors to note that: The ultimate behavior of students could differ from their stated intentions. However, expectations that industry support of university research will encourage large numbers of talented trainees to forsake academic careers do not seem justified, at least among the universities and departments surveyed. (Gluck et al., 1987, pp. 333-334) Over all, about half of the respondents judged their training experience excellent and an additional 45 per cent thought it was either good or very good, with no variations along funding lines. Gluck et al. recommended that conflicts of interests and the regulation of university-industry research relations be kept in check, and that the true terms of collaboration should be clarified. Nevertheless, they reported they felt their respondents found the benefits of collaboration with industry outweighed the risks from the students’ point of view. 70 Another survey of American graduate students with industry ties was conducted by Behrens & Gray (2001) and published in the same journal. Although the original sample was bigger, the data presented in the article concerns 482 graduate students from chemical and electrical engineering in six major American research universities with support from the Industry/University Centers for Cooperative Research (I/UCRC) program. Among their survey participants, Behrens & Gray found 45 per cent who were “industry-sponsored” (in the context of a CRC, by a single company, or in a non-university based research consortium) while 35 per cent were “government-sponsored” (by a civilian or defence government agency), while the remaining students were not sponsored or received university funds. Behrens and Gray found very few significant differences between the experience of industry- and government-sponsored students, leading them to say that the most important differences were related to being sponsored versus not. The industry- and government- sponsored projects were about as likely to form the core of the dissertation or thesis of the involved students, which indicates that it was thought by the supervisors to potentially bring a contribution to their field of study. No significant differences were observed in the choice of research topic (chosen, assigned, or developed), in feelings of control over the research, in interactions with industry representatives (which were always low) or in the perceived nature of the research produced. The two types of sponsored students were found to be more likely to publish than the non-sponsored students, but no differences were found based on sponsor type. Constraints on research and the quality of the climate were perceived in similar ways by all students. Unlike most of the students surveyed by other teams, only 28.9 per cent of Behrens & Gray’s sample expressed a preference for university employment after graduation, with the remaining two thirds reporting a preference for industrial positions. However, no 71 differences were observed between the three categories of students on this topic. The authors concluded that: … given the concerns raised by the literature, the lack of differences between industry and university-sponsored research appears to be more noteworthy than these minor differences. (Behrens & Gray, 2001, p. 195) A third study emanating from the United States (Mendoza, 2005, 2007) is more qualitative in nature, using a single case study to examine “How (…) high levels of industrial sponsorship within an academic department influence the socialization of doctoral students from students’ perspective” (2005, p. 85). Mendoza chose “a high-ranked science and engineering department in a large Research I University” (2005, p. 87). The centre received NSF funds to support its partnerships with industry. The case study method included a screening survey and in-depth interviews. Unlike Behrens & Gray’s survey, Mendoza’s interviews do reveal some differences between students with industrial and government sponsorship. The latter were more likely to hold “more traditional views based on the idea that basic science is the realm of academia and the applications of science belongs [sic] to the realm of industry” (2005, p. 145). In their views, industrial research is disconnected from the general advancement of science and constrained within strict boundaries. Industry-sponsored students had a different view: … they realize that applied research requires a fair amount of basic research and that there are many types of industrial research, including projects that are long-term and less specific. (Mendoza, 2005, p. 145) Industrial students also seemed more likely to find funding plentiful and easily accessible, while government funds were perceived as scarce by government-sponsored students and thought more likely to constrain faculty members’ range of options. 72 Mendoza found that students were globally satisfied with their training experience. She mentions that industrial research opportunities might provide a more meaningful experience to graduate students, increasing their chances of successfully completing the research program. Despite their positive outlook on industrial research, students remain committed to academic norms and value publications in peer-reviewed journals. The diverse range of learning and research opportunities provided to students seem to create a positive experience for them. Academic and industrial sources of wealth can apparently be combined for the benefit of the research apprentices. A fourth American study, by a team led by Sheila Slaughter (Slaughter, Campbell, Holleman, & Morgan, 2002), is not actually a study of student researchers but rather an article based on the secondary exploitation of 37 interviews with faculty members from various universities. Among other questions, they were asked: “Do graduate students face any particular problems in university-industry research?” Issues of research training were also discussed at other moments of the interview. This article is perhaps the most critical empirical piece published on this topic. The authors suggest that graduate students are owned by faculty members, who use them as tokens that they offer to industrial partners in exchange of needed research resources like equipment or money. Industry partners benefit from the trade because it gives them access to scientific research and to potential employees, at very low or even at no cost. The article describes faculty members as careful to involve students in scientifically appropriate work involving more than routine tasks. Yet, the faculty members remained the primary point of contact and negotiators with the industrial partners, and there were no guarantees students would be protected against their mentors’ potential conflicts of interest. Furthermore, students’ progression and career advancement was potentially hindered by secrecy, 73 publication constraints, and subtle manipulation of the publications’ content and timing. The students would be encouraged to engage in research susceptible to yield private rather than public benefits. According to Slaughter et al., participation in industrial research diminishes the students’ experience and turns their commitment away from traditional scientific values towards the promotion of “a culture that commodifies research that benefits the elite universities and multinational corporations in their research networks” (Slaughter et al., 2002, pp. 308-309). This hypothesis was later contradicted by Holleman, herself a co-author of the 2002 article. For her dissertation research (Holleman, 2005), Holleman interviewed 25 science doctoral students nearing completion of their program at two research-intensive American universities. Her informants were bathed in an environment of academic capitalism and new intellectual property policies. About half of her sample received at least some industrial funding, and as many (but not necessarily the same) intended to seek employment in industry after graduation. Instead of students “socialized toward industry and business values” (Holleman, 2005, p. 211), she found individuals who accepted the new context of research as a fact of life, but who were very critical of the business-like functioning of their laboratories, of the tenure system, of the competitive atmosphere, and of the focus on short-term returns of research, not so much in commercial terms but in response to the publish-or-perish rule. Students who initially aspired to academic research careers often changed their project to aim for employment in less prestigious (and less competitive) institutions and teaching-focused careers, while those who actually were interested in industry employment found themselves to be improperly socialized with regards to the skills and networks they thought they should be acquiring to succeed on the job market. Holleman notes that, by the time researchers-in- 74 training enter graduate school, their aspirations and values have already been set and that consequently the values of academic capitalism do not have as strong a hold on them as could have been expected in earlier research. France Two studies of student researchers in industrial partnerships have been uncovered for France. The first one results from Marie-Pierre Bès’ doctoral work at the Université de Toulouse le Mirail. Bès studied doctoral students in Engineering Sciences whose theses were prepared in direct relation with an industrial partner (Bès, 2004). The students held different types of funding: a scholarship, a research assistantship, or a laboratory contract of governmental or industrial source. Unlike the American studies presented above, Bès’ work is not inscribed in an educational perspective but rather in the sociology of science. In particular, she is interested in the networks of human and non-human actors and in locating student researchers in those networks. Bès identified three types of student researchers in engineering among those with industry relations. Her first category can be translated as the “developers of knowledge,” while the others are the “translators” and finally the “innovators.” The developers prepare a “serial thesis” typical of their laboratory’s legacy, in which they apply their laboratory’s accumulated knowledge and methods to an industrial problem. Although there is a relationship with the industrial context, their closest relations are with their academic colleagues who have the needed resources and expertise. The “translators” do the opposite: they turn a new industrial problem into a proper scientific question, “reconstructing the industrial process in the laboratory.” These students must make many trips between the two “worlds,” confronting the industrial reality with the scientific literature. Finally, and more rarely, the “innovators” explored uncharted territory. They are very mobile geographically, 75 visiting other public or private laboratories, equipment providers, etc., and their research work involves significant “tinkering” in order to reach an appropriate solution to a problem they have newly constructed. The science they are involved in is “hot” and at the moving frontier of a given discipline’s technical development and they train others to use the new methods they developed, both in the industrial and the academic settings. In sum, Bès concludes, the “socio-technical networks” mobilized by student researchers involved in industry vary, among other reasons because of the exigencies of their respective research topics. Rachel Lévy’s doctoral dissertation (Lévy, 2005b, 2005a) focused on the Conventions industrielles de formation par la recherche (CIFRE) award holders. Lévy represents the CIFRE student researcher as a mediator between the university and the firm, as a two-way bridge that makes knowledge exchange possible. The doctoral student will translate the perspectives of each community into the other’s vision, and reduce the cognitive distance that separates the public research centre from the firm… (Lévy, 2005a, p. 85) Her findings are based on a questionnaire sent to the students, university supervisors and industrial counterparts of 404 CIFRE agreements located within one French region (Alsace). A response was received from at least one partner in 131 cases, which she analyzed. Lévy found that 81 per cent of the collaborative agreements yielded at least one publication in a scientific journal while patents (21 per cent), prototypes (30 per cent), new products (23 per cent) or new processes (36 per cent) were also common outcomes. The CIFRE system was found “stimulating” by nearly all respondents, but conflicts were reported to have emerged in approximately 15 per cent of the triads. 76 Sweden Two papers in which Lillemon Wallgren is a co-author (Salminen-Karlsson & Wallgren, 2005; Wallgren & Hägglund, 2004) focus on the situation of industrial doctoral students in Sweden. The 2003 piece is based on interviews with 23 industry doctoral students in the field of computer science and information technology. The authors offer a useful distinction between three types of settings in which the students can become involved with industry: (1) research-intensive environments, like a research and development (R&D) department within a large firm; (2) engineering environments, where matters of production are directly relevant; and (3) consulting environments, where the students’ role is to provide services to clients, usually with less intense interactions between the student researchers and their non-academic partners. The research-intensive environments are most similar to the academic structure and seem more conducive to doctoral work. The authors noted that, irrespective of the setting in which they were involved, students had to face complex balancing issues, a situation bringing some difficulties but also great satisfaction. The interviewed students did not report experiencing conflicts over the control of the research, although lack of communication with the supervisor or between the academic supervisor and his or her industrial counterpart was sometimes a problem. If anything, the students noted a lack of involvement on the part of the industrial partner. The issue of dual supervision was explored in more depth in a later paper presented at the Triple Helix conference in 2005 by Salminen-Karlsson and Wallgren. A trigger for the paper seems to have been the previously discussed article about the “traffic” of graduate students (Slaughter et al., 2002). Rather than seeing the students as tokens for exchange, the Swedish researchers consider them as “boundary subjects” located between the academic and the industrial worlds. To explore this theme, they interviewed the members of 11 “functioning triads,” i.e. groups constituted of a graduate student and two supervisors (one 77 academic, one industrial) in two applied fields: bioinformatics, and building & interior environment. The dual supervisory arrangement was the result of a special program from the Swedish Foundation for the Advancement of Knowledge which started supporting “industry schools” offering funding to graduate students participating in cooperative projects with industry, in which students are expected to share their time between industrial and academic settings. Salminen-Karlsson and Wallgren reject Slaughter’s team’s view of a student objectified by the two supervisors, arguing that both the academic supervisor and the industrial counterpart perceived the partnership not to be merely about the exchange of knowledge (episteme) or of tools, techniques and technology (techne), but truly about the formation of a person – the student researcher – capable of using episteme and/or techne to make a contribution to the collaborating organizations. Both supervisors used vocabulary indicating they consider the student as a genuine subject capable of self-direction. In the cases examined, academic requirements were found to take precedence over the needs of the industrial sponsor, while the industrial side of the partnership was the most likely to report having learned something from the collaboration. It was also noted that joint supervision was facilitated when the industrial supervisor held a PhD. One concern seemed that, in case of a problem, the supervisory relationship might break down, as neither of the supervisors would take primary responsibility for the student. As in the first Swedish study mentioned, no issues regarding attempts, on the part of the industrial partner, to take over the project’s orientation or resulting publications were reported. Australia In 1990, the Australian Department of Employment, Education and Training launched the industrial version of its Australian Postgraduate Research Awards (APRA) Scheme to 78 increase university-industry collaboration, bringing academics and industrials to jointly supervise the training of researchers. The Department’s Evaluations and Investigations Program commissioned an evaluation of the program, which was conducted by Margaret Powles between 1993 and 1995 (Powles, 1994, 1996). Powles’ assessment was that, globally, and despite a few difficulties, the program was having positive effects on its participants. A total of 369 awards were offered between 1990 and 1993 and all award holders were invited to participate to the evaluation by filling a survey questionnaire. Their academic and industrial supervisors were also invited to respond to a different questionnaire. The response rate was superior to 50 per cent for students and academic supervisors and slightly below 40 per cent for industrial supervisors. Under the APRA(I) scheme, faculty members and industry representatives must jointly apply for an award which they may then advertise as a position to be held by an appropriate graduate student. The funds for the award must be provided in part by the industrial partner. Considering the process by which the projects are designed, it is not surprising to learn that in a majority of cases there were pre-existing relations between the two partners. Despite this, many participants reported that the APRA(I) funding had been essential for the viability of their project. The awards also led to new partnerships and collaborations, and academics, industrials, and students agreed that “the Scheme provides an opportunity for students to obtain a research degree while working on a real-world problem” (Powles, 1994, p. 219). However, an oft-mentioned difficulty was the recruitment of appropriate students to actually hold the award, and it is interesting to note that the academic standing of award recipients tended to be lower than that of regular APRA students. Among the student respondents, 74 per cent had attended at least one conference, with 47 per cent (of the total) having presented a paper. Academic supervisors were surveyed 79 about journal publications arising from the APAR(I) projects and 39 per cent reported that publications had already emerged from the collaboration, and 55 per cent that publication was likely to occur before or after the student’s completion, while 4 per cent said that confidentiality agreements would impede publications and 2 per cent did not expect publication to arise at all. With regards to supervision, students were generally satisfied but nearly one third reported that the arrangement was problematic. University supervisors also expressed slightly more satisfaction than their industrial counterparts. An intriguing finding of Powles’ survey was that, while all agreed that the APRA(I) scheme shifted research practices away from basic research, students were less likely than their supervisors to agree that this was a good idea. The students, perhaps because they stood at the front-line of the collaboration, were also less optimistic about the chances of bridging the cultural differences between industry and academia. Nonetheless, satisfaction rates for students were similar to those of regular APRA holders, at about 60 per cent. A broader study of Ph.D. students at two large Australian universities provided Grant and Kay Harman with an opportunity to compare the experience of industry-sponsored students to that of other students. The survey does not seem to distinguish APRA(I) recipients but it does identify students involved in a Cooperative Research Centre (CRC). In a primary analysis of the whole survey, Grant Harman observed that: Some of the most satisfied students were those in CRCs or working with industry funding. CRC students generally enjoy a higher stipend scholarship level and relatively generous research project funding. Generally they have the advantage of working in team situations on projects where there are clear timelines and regular reviews. (G. Harman, 2002, p. 183) 80 This observation, along with CRC students’ seemingly different attitudes regarding industry, might have triggered more specific mining of the survey for data on the CRC students by Kay M. Harman (K. Harman, 2002, 2004). She concludes that the program is effective in fostering “industry-ready graduates,” something positive in her view. She notes that CRC students are more likely to be satisfied, have positive attitudes toward industry, and are less attracted to academic career, while questions are raised by some about whether their research topics are suitable for a good thesis. Some inconsistencies in the presentation of the analysis and the small sample make it difficult to assess the significance of her findings, especially in the absence of disaggregation by discipline. Canada To the best of my knowledge, the only Canadian publications on the experience of research students collaborating with industrial or governmental partners in Canada result from my work with Yves Gingras and a small number of collaborators. We have so far been supported by two grants from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada and the production of specific reports was funded by Quebec’s Fonds de recherche sur la nature et la technologie (FQRNT) and Fonds de recherche sur la société et la culture (FQRSC), as well as by the Université de Sherbrooke. The two Quebec councils sponsored specific reports about their joint scholarship program, the “Bourses en milieu de pratique” or BMP (called Industrial Innovation Scholarship in English) mentioned earlier, while the Université de Sherbrooke was interested in the outcomes of its specific cooperative research training program. After a series of exploratory interviews, we prepared a survey which resulted in 896 usable questionnaires from current graduate students and recent graduates, all from research- oriented Master’s or Ph.D. degrees including the preparation of a thesis or dissertation. A 81 synthesis of the first survey results was published in 2005 (Gemme & Gingras, 2005a). Respondents from that first phase were invited to participate in a follow-up study in the summer of 2006 and the first results of that second phase were discussed at a recent conference (Gemme, 2008). Survey participants were divided into four categories: (1) those who were awarded a scholarship for research in context of practice by the FQRNT or FQRSC and benefited from joint funding from the research council and a sponsoring organization; (2) those who had signed a contract to collaborate with a non-university organization (firm from the private sector, government department or agency, non-governmental organization, etc.), labelled contractual collaborators, 3) those who were indirectly involved in a partnership (through their supervisor), called non-contractual collaborators, and finally 4) the non-collaborators, who did not report ties with a non-university organization in relation to their degree program. The first two categories (the scholarship holders and those with their own contract) are also called direct collaborators. Perhaps one of the most important findings of our study is that the experiences reported are extremely diverse and that important differences are observed along disciplinary lines and depending on the intensity level of the collaboration, the latter being partly captured by our categories. Only the findings related to science and engineering students (excluding life sciences, social sciences, and humanities students) are presented in this section, representing 376 individuals. Regarding the choice of a research topic, we have observed that collaborators seemed to have exercised more autonomy, choosing their topic before choosing a supervisor, while the collaborators in general more frequently report that non-university representatives were involved in the definition of their research project, with approximately 60 per cent of direct collaborators reporting non-university intervention against 33.1 per cent of non-contractual 82 collaborators and only 1.8 per cent of non-collaborators. Generally, most students involved in collaborative research joined projects that pre-existed them, indicating that their university and industrial supervisors probably already knew each other. The students who are involved in some sort of collaboration generally have a positive outlook on their situation: between 82 per cent and 93 per cent of them find that the collaboration agreement brings more opportunities than constraints, and on average 77.7 per cent of student collaborators judge the participation of non-university partners was a necessary condition for them to realize their project. However, a small proportion of BMP holders (13.7 per cent), some contractual collaborators (28.8 per cent) and the majority of non-contractual collaborators (60.2 per cent) felt their participation was not a personal choice but instead imposed on them. The type of collaboration also seems linked to the level of resources exchanged between the student researcher and the external organizations, the level of interests from the partners (as perceived by the student), and the frequency of meetings between partners. Direct collaborators were more likely to be dealing with highly qualified (Master’s or Ph.D. holders) representatives in non-university organizations. In terms of outcomes, no significant differences existed between collaborators and non-collaborators, or between categories of collaborators, in publication rates and exposure to peer-review. Contractual collaborators were the most likely to report being submitted to constraints to publication (40.7 per cent) while non-contractual collaborators reported such constraints in only 8.7 per cent of cases. For BMP holders, this proportion was 24.7 per cent. Collaborators were more likely to be satisfied with the progression of their research, but the differences in overall satisfaction levels were not significant between each group. 83 In a 2006 article (Gingras & Gemme, 2006), we paid closer attention to the students’ professional preferences. We discovered university careers attracted only 41.5 per cent of direct collaborators while 57.7 per cent of non-contractual collaborators and 60.6 per cent of non-collaborators thought university positions were best. Unfortunately, our sample included too few graduates to provide a suitable understanding of post-graduation trajectories, a situation we hope to resolve with further analysis of the second survey. Discussion This survey of the effects of cooperative research programs and policies on graduate student training allows me to better assess the influence of such heteronomous forces on the traditional reproduction processes I described. Although they were designed based on different research questions, the studies reviewed converge toward two conclusions. On the one hand, indirect support programs, in which students’ involvement with non-academic research partners occurs through their supervisors, do not seem to significantly transform the forms of capital that matter from the students’ perspective or the habitus they acquire through their graduate education. On the other hand, direct forms of support have a greater impact on the training of new researchers as they expand the network of agents who can contribute to the formation of the students’ habitus and legitimize alternatives to the traditional academic trajectory. The modes of support I have called indirect – for example the American and Australian Centres for Cooperative Research and the multiple forms of strategic grants available to Canadian researchers – are intended to bring academics closer to the “context of application” (Gibbons et al., 1994), with the intention of increasing innovation, productivity, and national competitivity on the global economic scene. Such programs might be transforming the work of faculty members (Slaughter & Leslie, 1997), but the impact on the 84 construction of new researchers’ schemes of perception and action remains to be demonstrated. Graduate students involved in such indirect cooperation schemes with non- academic partners are as likely as their peers in traditional settings to see themselves in academic positions in the future, and they tend to be equally committed to submitting their research findings to peer review (Behrens & Gray, 2001; Gemme & Gingras, 2005b; Gluck et al., 1987). If anything, they might be more critical of a university research environment that puts too much emphasis on productivity, regardless of industrial involvement (Holleman, 2005). In the case of policies and programs that only indirectly support graduate student involvement in cooperative research, the students’ supervisors – established members of the field in which the students are trainees – might effectively be translating the requests of the non-academic organizations into scientifically-appropriate research problems and settings, effectively shielding graduate students from heteronomous influences. The students might be aware of their supervisors’ work context, but the forms of capital that researchers-in-training perceive as necessary to meet the scientific field’s admission fee remain unchanged.13 Students who are directly supported by cooperative research funding schemes, however, may be more exposed to heteronomous forces. They can even be conceptualized as vehicles of heteronomy themselves. The studies of the French industrial agreements for research training (CIFRE) and, to a lesser degree, of the Swedish industrial doctoral schools, demonstrate that some graduate students act as intermediaries between their academic and industrial supervisors, building bridges between two different fields (Bès, 2004; Lévy, 2005a; Wallgren & Dahlgren, 2007). In the Quebec case, we also found that directly supported students were more likely to have developed their own research problems and to have regular 13 Whether or not new forms of capital – such as the capacity to secure strategic grants – are required to effectively become a full-fledged participant in the scientific field, however, is another question which needs to be resolved empirically in a separate study. 85 interactions with non-academic research partners (Gemme & Gingras, 2005a). It is possible that those students initially intended to do “traditional” research, but were somehow attracted to cooperative research by the availability of industrial funding, trading some of their potential academic capital for economic capital. I would suggest that it is also likely that the students who directly embark in cooperative research projects may in fact be primarily attached to a non-academic field, and seeking to acquire academic capital to eventually trade it for other forms of capital more valued in their primary field. For example, an engineer could seek a Master’s degree in order to improve her position within the organization she works for, and take advantage of the cooperative research scholarship offered by the research councils to make her study leave more attractive to her employer (thanks to tax credits) and solve a problem encountered in her workplace. By making such scholarship programs available, the research councils – interface organizations between the scientific field and policy-making – are legitimizing trajectories that the scientific field did not favour through its own logic, thus giving an advantage to agents whose capital and habitus were not particularly valued previously. However, it is important to note that the students who are directly supported also seek scientific capital in the form of peer-reviewed publications (Gingras & Gemme, 2006) and that many of them do perceive themselves as future faculty members, a tendency that increases over students’ time in their program (Gemme, 2008). Even in contexts where students have ties with non-academic organizations, scientific capital does not seem to be a species at risk. Direct and indirect forms of support for research training in collaboration with non- academic partners can be found in the Faculty of Forestry, where faculty members hold strategic grants and obtain research contracts while some graduate students secure a NSERC Industrial Postgraduate Scholarship, an ACCELERATE Canada Internship, or even research 86 contracts of their own. The impacts of such forms of encouragement on the formation of the students’ habitus will be discussed. More significantly, however, the next chapters will also show, from different angles, how what have so far been considered as heteronomous forces do not only come from outside of academic forest research but also live at its core. In other words, the outside is well established within the Faculty of Forestry. 87 CHAPTER 4 THE FACULTY OF FORESTRY IN ITS SOCIAL SPACE By March 2008, I had been in the field long enough that what was initially strange had become familiar. But when I received a message from the Dean about the events organized for UBC’s “Celebrate Research Week,” I could not repress a smile of surprise. The invitation read: In order to ensure strong Faculty representation, I encourage you to RSVP for the ‘showcase’ event of the year – a lecture by Ian de la Roche, President and CEO of FPInnovations on the ‘new bio-economy’ and efforts to mitigate climate change. (March 5th, 2008 email communication through the frstgrad- news mailing list.) Maybe the departments and centres I have been affiliated with in my lifetime have been chauvinistic, but when “research day” events were organized, we usually seized the opportunity to attract attention to what we thought to be our best work, and feature our own stars prominently. Forestry, on the other hand, offered the centre stage to an outsider without affiliation to the Faculty. Other features of the day included a workshop on climate change with two panellists from the Faculty of Forestry and two from the provincial government, a poster session for graduate students to display their work, and a “memorandum of understanding signing ceremony” between UBC and FPInnovations. I silently thanked the Dean and his staff for putting together a program that so eloquently illustrated what was shaping up to be my thesis: here in Forestry, heteronomy was part of business as usual. Further, it was a source of pride. How could I make sense of this? After trying for years to understand how academics interact with their environment as they produce and disseminate new knowledge, I now believe that the lens of university- industry-government interactions is insufficient to seize the complexity of agents’ trajectories and behaviours in the research environment. Instead, I suggest an approach based on 88 Bourdieu’s theory of fields which does take into account the conditions created by the organizational structures of universities, government agencies, and private organizations, but also incorporates as meaningful the structures that are built into the people who populate those organizations, which I see as habitus. The case of the field of forest research, and of UBC’s Faculty of Forestry within it, provide an illustration of this approach; I have no doubt that other areas of research where university-industry-government interactions are commonplace would provide further fruitful applications of this way of seeing. I will demonstrate how UBC’s Faculty of Forestry and the individuals affiliated with it are located within the field of forest research, a social space located at the intersection of the scientific field and of the forest sector. At stake within the field of forest research is the capacity to mobilize leading scientific knowledge and methods to offer pathways toward the solution of pressing forest sector problems. As it takes position in this field that is simultaneously and inseparably part of the scientific field and of the forest sector, the Faculty of Forestry offers its Master’s and Ph.D. students a context of research training where industry, government, and sometimes NGOs are not “outsiders” but rather participants in the struggle over what counts and matters in research. This chapter focuses on the organizational level, briefly describing the historic context in which Forestry became established as a teaching and research unit within the University of British Columbia before examining the contemporary period in greater depth. I will show how the Faculty of Forestry presents itself and takes position through its buildings, web site, and public events, and examine the forms of capital it mobilizes at an aggregated scale. The next chapter will be dedicated to positions and position-takings at the individual scale, focusing on faculty members and graduate students. 89 Context surrounding the emergence of forest education and research To understand the context that made the emergence of forest-related teaching and research in the university setting in British Columbia, one must grasp the importance of the forest industry in the province at the beginning of the 20th century. From its modest origins as a small industry supporting the exploitation of other natural resources, logging became an unprecedented source of both public and private wealth that fuelled the boom of the Canadian west coast. Jean Barman’s book, The West Beyond the West: A History of British Columbia (2007), shows how the exploration and eventual settlement by Europeans of what is now known as British Columbia was largely motivated by the rich natural resources available in the province, starting with otter furs in the 17th and 18th century, followed by gold in the 19th century. For the first centuries of the colony, logging was a secondary industry. Early mills in Victoria on Vancouver Island were built in 1848 and 1849 to respond to the increased demand for building supplies created by the California gold rush. Ten years later, the gold fever came north of the 49th parallel and the first mainland sawmill started operating in Yale, in the Fraser Valley, in 1858, soon followed by more mills in Alberni (Vancouver Island), Vancouver, and Moody. Already, according to Barman, a significant portion of the mills’ production of lumber and shingles was exported to Latin America, Australia, and New Zealand; tariff barriers and competition from the Puget Sound sawmills curtained to some degree exports to the United States. Accessible stands and valley bottoms were logged as areas were settled, often temporarily, a process also concurrent to the development of the railway after British Columbia became a Canadian province in 1871. Nowhere and never was it easy and safe to cut down trees, but at first the terrain of British Columbia certainly proved a spectacular hindrance to the growth of a large-scale 90 forest industry. At the end of the 19th century, steam power and favourable market conditions converged to give lumber companies the impetus they needed to access steep hillsides, and the industry really took flight (Rajala, 1999). The province of British Columbia at first offered exceptional conditions to lumber investors, and American businessmen were particularly keen to seize the opportunity after the nationalization of forests in the United States in 1905 (Barman, 2007, p. 194). Railway developers were given wide tracts of rich and accessible timberland, while others secured rights to harvest on “temporary tenure” which were in fact practically permanent and devoid of obligations, so they could simply “clearcut and run” (Marchak, 1983, p. 35). In the first ten years of the 20th century only, the amount of lumber harvested in the province was multiplied by four (Hak, 1986) and the biggest mill in the British Empire was built by the developers of the Canadian Northern Pacific Railway in Maillardville (Barman, 2007). The forest industry boomed. But the boom had its critics, and abuses were decried. A Royal Commission on Timber and Forestry advised in 1910 that urgent changes were needed in the attribution of logging rights and that a forestry service should be established; soon after, the Forest Act was adopted by the provincial legislature (Barman, 2007) and the province’s first chief forester, H.R. MacMillan, who held a Master’s degree from the Yale School of Forestry, was put to work (Drushka, 1995). In 1913, only a year after the Forest Branch was created, and after being nudged by the BC Loggers Association (Rajala, 1999, p. 60), the Minister of Lands, W.R. Ross, wrote to President Wesbrook of the University of British Columbia to suggest that a “forest school” was now a necessity: 91 The fact that so large a proportion of the present public and private revenues of British Columbia are derived from the forest and that so large a proportion of the Province is chiefly valuable for the production of timber indicates the necessity for a forest school which will develop public sentiment, carry on research work and point the way for the wisest use and perpetuation of forest wealth. (Smith, 1990, p. 5) The Minister even offered to Wesbrook the support of the Forest Branch staff over the winter months for the first two years of the program. At that stage, in Canada, forestry schools had already opened their doors at the University of Toronto (1907), at the University of New Brunswick (Fredericton, 1908), and at Université Laval (Quebec City, 1910). The Faculty of Forestry was authorized at the same time as the faculties of Arts and Science, Applied Science, and Agriculture in 1915, but did not open immediately, possibly for lack of qualified and available professors during the war. Again in 1917 the Pacific Logging Congress and the BC Forest Club reiterated the request to UBC president Wesbrook (Rajala, 1999, p. 60). As he hoped for funding from the provincial government to come through, Wesbrook tried to convince MacMillan to become Forestry’s first Dean, in vain (Gibson, 1973). Nevertheless, in 1918, a short forestry course was initiated and, in 1919, a department of forestry within the Faculty of Applied Science was established. Also in 1921, a research organization, the Western Forest Products Laboratory14, was created. The research activities of the Forest Branch of the Forest Service started the same year, although they were not formalized until 1927 (Schmidt & Parminter, 2006). Forestry would become a separate Faculty in 1951 (Smith, 1990). Recent observers of the forest sector in British Columbia may not appreciate how important the industry was at the beginning of the 20th century: the rapid growth of the 14 The WFPL was later to become Forintek and, recently, merged with FERIC and PAPRICAN into the new FPInnovations. 92 infrastructure of the province was fuelled by timber revenues. In 1914, the recently appointed MacMillan proudly reported that: … half of the payroll of the province was derived from the forests. He also commented that the forest industry “employs more labour, distributes more money, consumes more supplies, produces more wealth and public revenues than any other Provincial industry, and it is one of the strongest influences promoting the opening-up and settlement of new undeveloped regions.” (Hak, 1986, p. 1) Although one may think that MacMillan could have slightly inflated his claims for rhetorical purposes, it remains true that, as early as 1908, 40 per cent of the provincial budget came from stumpage revenues, and that was even before the reforms of 1912 (Barman, 2007, p. 196). Around the same period, the forest industry replaced the Canadian Pacific Railway as Vancouver’s largest employer. By offering training in forestry, the University of British Columbia was going to be part of the boom and help train the numerous new public servants required by the provincial government’s Forest Branch. In British Columbia as elsewhere in North America, the beginnings of forestry education and research reflected the rise of conservationist thinking. Since the 1870s, voices had been rising in the United States and Canada to oppose the ongoing liquidation of timber reserves which would soon lead – it was said – to “timber famines” (Williams, 2006, p. 362). At a time when timber constituted an essential commodity as both fuel and building material, the pace at which new forested lands were secured increasingly trailed behind the pace at which they were harvested, leading to concerns about supplies and rising prices. Conservationists, the most famous representative of whom is probably Gifford Pinchot, first Chief of the United States Forest Service, proposed that a new science-based approach was urgently required to secure permanent reserves of timber as well as other benefits (wildlife, recreation, clean water, etc.). They quickly secured the attention of federal politicians in both 93 countries, and Theodore Roosevelt and Wilfrid Laurier became champions of conservationism (Drushka, 2003, p. 45; Williams, 2006, pp. 363-364). Consistent with modern advances in bureaucratic management, the future of forests should be trusted to experts: A key component of conservationist thinking was that planning and management of forests and other natural resources should be undertaken by scientifically trained professionals, not by politically appointed officials, as was common practice at the time. Experts employing technical and scientific methods, rather than politicians or industrialists and other forest users, should be in charge of forests. (Drushka, 2003, p. 44) The point of the conservationist moment was not to put forests out of industry’s reach, quite the opposite in fact. As MacMillan pointed out, “What is not cut is wasted in the end” (Drushka, 2003, p. 49). However, the rate of cut had to be determined scientifically to avoid over-cutting (leading to total depletion) and under-cutting (leading to waste) alike. Thus, new professionals – foresters – needed to be scientifically trained to “ensure that forests were utilized in a manner that would provide for their future well-being” (Drushka, 2003, p. 48), and universities were the venues designated to provide the training and future scientific developments. Pinchot founded and had lifelong ties with the Yale University School of Forestry, where MacMillan trained. Another proponent of rigorous forest management, Bernhard Fernow, founded the University of Toronto’s Faculty of Forestry after first initiating forestry education at Cornell University. Fernow’s work involved not just the development of forestry teaching but also early research efforts in the field. At Cornell, Fernow supported the creation and became editor-in-chief of the Forestry Quarterly (which eventually became the Journal of Forestry), a role he maintained after moving to Toronto in 1907. The purpose of the journal, as highlighted in its first issue, was to “aid in the establishment of rational forest management” and “to offer an organ for the 94 publication of technical papers of interest to professional foresters in America” (Anonymous, 1902a). The editors hoped to go beyond “the propagandism of forestry” to be “devoted to the professional or technical interests of the subject” (Anonymous, 1902b). Schools of forestry, including that of UBC, were part of the project of forest rationalization, and the education and research missions of universities were intended to contribute to the continued – but measured – exploitation of this natural resource. A full-fledged history of Forestry at UBC remains to be written. It would bring the expertise of historians to complement the extensive collection of fragments gathered by Forestry faculty members (Kozak, 2004; Smith, 1990). Such work is required to describe in greater detail and depth the conditions which made the emergence of forest education and research possible in the university and the evolution of these conditions as they allowed Forestry to persist and grow over the years. Of particular interest would be a closer examination of Faculty’s research activities as they oscillated between forest engineering and forest science over the years, a transition alluded to by Rajala (1999). Furthermore, investigations in the history of biology and ecology would be needed to assess whether specialization forces at play within biology simultaneously pressed for the establishment of separate units dedicated to the study of trees and forests. As I will discuss in the following sections, political and economic forces remain significant players in the Faculty of Forestry today. Furthermore, UBC Forestry maintains to this day close ties with other research organizations that also emerged in the 1920s, in particular the Ministry of Forests’ Research Branch and the new incarnation of the WFPL, called FPInnovations. What will appear very clearly, however, is that scientific practices and resources – such as the training of Ph.D. students and funding from the Natural Sciences and 95 Engineering Research Council (NSERC) – have grown to become equally important in the institution. Acquisition and display of capital The position of the Faculty of Forestry within the field of forest research and in relation to the field of power, as well as to the broader social space, is determined by the nature and volume of capital it has accumulated. While this capital can be analyzed in terms of its basic forms – economic, social, cultural, and symbolic – it is also necessary to consider its source. Some is granted by institutions or individuals that are clearly located within the field of science, while some comes from the forest sector. Indeed, the location of the Faculty of Forestry within a university gives it an advantage compared to other organizations of the field of forest research, as the relative flexibility of this organizational form allows academics to go after a broader range of resources compared to forest researchers located in government or private organizations. As we will see, current circumstances afford Forestry researchers a dominant position within the field of forest research; it also seems to be the case that forest research generally is well aligned with the dominant ideology of Canada’s dominant class. This position, however, is not to be taken for granted, as it results from the constant struggles of multiple forces. Whether being located at the intersection of two fields makes forest research more resilient or more vulnerable remains an open question; however, such an intersectional location does seem to press the pace at which the distribution of positions changes within forest research. Such a theoretical understanding of the position and dynamics of fields contributes to a sharper understanding of the realities of forest research. It should not obscure the fact that, at the end of the day, the distribution of capital between the various positions of the field means that the lives of real persons are deeply impacted by this struggle. As what is valued 96 within the field changes, and as the distribution of valuable forms of capital evolves, the range of options open to organizations – and to the people within them – expands or contracts. For instance, it can open a number of positions to graduate students from developing countries through the offering of generous stipends, or cause young forest researchers to seek employment in other fields after graduation, leading to the disappearance over time of certain strands of research. In this section, I will examine the forms of capital accumulated and displayed at the organizational level in the Faculty of Forestry. (The capital carried by individual agents, such as faculty members and graduate students, will be examined in depth in chapter 5.) When possible and relevant, I will also report on the distinctions between Forestry’s three departments, as it demonstrates that the Faculty of Forestry is not a unitary block. Rather, it is a space in which different approaches to forest research cohabit, cooperate, and struggle. A “new” home After being scattered over many buildings for years, Forestry faculty members were relocated in 1998 into a single 2-acre space at the southern edge of the university. The immediate neighbours of Forestry are all in the general area of applied sciences: the Institute for Computing, Information, and Cognitive Systems, the Pulp and Paper Centre, the School of Nursing, and the Faculty of Land and Food Systems. The University-Industry Liaison Office (UILO) is also nearby. More importantly, the buildings of FPInnovations, an important research partner of Forestry researchers, are only a five-minute walk away on university land. There are a few doors to the Faculty of Forestry, each of which gives a quite different perspective on the activities within. My personal preference has always been to enter through 97 the building’s main door at the intersection of Main Mall and Agronomy Road, which leads into the four-story high wood-and-glass atrium of the Forest Sciences Centre (FSC). By simply taking a few steps into the building and pivoting on one’s feet, one can take a sweeping look at the office, meeting, and laboratory spaces where students and researchers work in the open or behind windows. The light shades of the wood panels that line the atrium make the space luminous even on a gloomy Vancouver day. In fact, the building was conceived as a showcase of wood products. The large beams that hold the glass ceiling, disposed in the shape of tree trunks with their branches extending to support the glass panes, are not single pieces of timber but rather “Parallam” beams – “Parallel Strand Lumber” – developed initially by MacMillan Blœdel, while the Douglas fir panelling is also not hard wood but rather wood veneer over a medium density fibreboard (MDF) core. In an untitled and undated set of notes that were used as a guide by building tour guides, it is emphasized that using MDF instead of solid wood means that the builders “have taken advantage of advances in technology that allows us to use waste wood and waste sawdust.” In the large auditorium, Douglas fir is replaced with cherry, but the concept is the same. The shift in values implied by the use of veneer-covered MDF panels is meaningful. It was not that long ago that newcomers to the province marvelled at the sight of towering Douglas fir and ten- feet-wide red cedars, which could be felled to yield massive pieces timber. Today, such giants are only to be admired in small enclosures such as Vancouver Island’s MacMillan Park – a park of only two square kilometres also known as Cathedral Grove – or remembered thanks to the stumps left behind in the nearby Pacific Spirit Park. That a Forestry school be built by using sawmill waste such as sawdust certainly reflects new environmental values, yet signals that a certain era is definitely over. 98 If the Forest Sciences Centre is the public and transparent face of the Faculty of Forestry, the adjoining Centre for Advanced Wood Processing (CAWP) feels like a more private and industrial compound. The first time I accessed it from a side door on Agronomy Road, I found myself in concrete halls and the closed steel doors displayed warning signs that made me fear that I was just about to take a wrong step. CAWP’s warehouse-style walls and high-ceilings are home to research and education in matters related to wood processing, and includes a machine shop, a timber yard, and laboratories which remained a mystery to me.15 Underneath, one finds a parking lot for the many field vehicles – mainly trucks and sturdy cars – used by faculty members and their students. Many of those who work in the Forest Sciences Centre only go to CAWP for the occasional seminars and parties held there, and access it through a 2nd floor walkway connecting the two halves of Forestry’s geography. A new building clearly signals that many forms of capital – and most critically economic capital – converge to make construction happen. The FSC was built at the cost of nearly $50 million dollars, with $46,254,000 coming from the provincial government. According to a UBC Campus Planning and Development summary document obtained through Forestry, additional contributions were made by private donors in UBC’s “World of Opportunity” fundraising campaign (1989-1993) and the Faculty of Forestry’s “Growing for the Future” campaign (1996-1998). The donors were, for the most part, companies owning or exploiting forests, with the exception of some donations by families with ties to the Faculty of Forestry, and amphitheatres and classrooms were named after the donors, as can be seen in Table 216. 15 Unfortunately, none of the students I shadowed worked in CAWP. 16 The donations listed in Table 2 amount to more than the difference between the total cost of the building and the government funding received to support the project. Some of these donations may have been targeted to others uses in the Faculty of Forestry. 99 Table 2 Major donors to the “World of Opportunity” and “Growing for the Future” fundraising campaigns and corresponding rooms Donor Category Room Comments Fletcher Challenge Canada Limited $2,000,000 to $9,999,999 FSC1005, a 250-seat amphitheatre The company no longer exists. MacMillan Blœdel $2,000,000 to $9,999,999 Atrium Bought by Weyerhaeuser Canadian Pacific $1,000,000 to $1,999,999 FSC1406, a 40-seat classroom Charlie & Sue Johnson Family $1,000,000 to $1,999,999 Charlie & Sue Johnson Applied Forest Genetics and Biotechnology Lab; Also, the Loon Lake Cabins. Charlie Johnson was a Ministry of Forests employee who, along with others, purchased provincial nurseries when they were privatized. Weldwood of Canada Limited $1,000,000 to $1,999,999 FSC1221, a 99-seat theatre Now part of West Fraser Timber Company. Weyerhaeuser Company Foundation $1,000,000 to $1,999,999 David L. McInnes – Weyerhaeuser Undergraduate Student Lounge (2nd floor) Canfor Corporation $500,000 to $999,999 FSC1003, a 65-seat theatre International Forest Products Limited $500,000 to $999,999 FSC1001, a 65-seat theatre Better known today as Interfor. Pacific Forest Products Limited/Avenor Inc. $500,000 to $999,999 Bought by Timber West. West Fraser Timber Co. $500,000 to $999,999 FSC1404, Computer lab Gary & Jean Burch $250,000 to $499,000 FSC1222, 36-seat “Teaching lab” Janet W. Ketcham & Associates $250,000 to $499,000 FSC1611, 24-seat classroom Was a member of West Fraser Timber Co.’s board. Lignum Ltd. $250,000 to $499,000 FSC1002, 24-seat classroom Dr. Gene & Carol Namkoong Family $250,000 to $499,000 FSC3027, Namkoong library (Centre for Forest Conservation Genetics) Gene Namkoong was the head of the Forest Sciences department. Noranda Inc. $250,000 to $499,000 FSC1313, Research Lab The company exited the forest industry and later was bought by Falconbridge. Primex Forest Products Ltd. $50,000 to $99,000 Bought by Interfor. 100 Economic capital is not merely dollars. It also embodies social connections, and the scale of the donations made – most of which were above half a million dollars and many over one million – shows that the donating companies and individuals had a stake in the development of UBC’s forest education and research activities. Ten years later, how have these social relations evolved? A quick survey reveals that the structure of the forest sector itself has undergone major changes in the intervening period, as half of the donating companies have been purchased by others or have been dismantled. Of course, the individuals who worked for those companies have not disappeared and social connections between the Faculty of Forestry and the province’s and continent’s forest industry remain very much alive as we will see. The rapid pace of change in the forest sector nevertheless indicates that Forestry cannot take its sources of capital for granted. The Forest Sciences Centre may no longer be totally new, it remains an attractive work space that can facilitate the recruitment of graduate students and staff members. Its very existence and the markings that highlight the philanthropic contribution of major players of the forest sector send the message that the university, the provincial government, and industry take the Faculty of Forestry seriously. Forestry according to itself Forestry’s building is a strong material representation of its accumulated capital, but the organization also has other ways to display its capital, taking position through its official online and printed publications. While the written word and even photographs lack the authority conferred by a building’s physical presence, it nonetheless offers insight into what an organization perceives as valuable and worthy of display. Whether such a representation is consistent with the capital actually held is to be assessed empirically, and it will be discussed 101 later in this chapter and in the chapter 5. In any case, such reports of Forestry’s work, and in particular of its research activities, are deemed crucial to increase the general public’s awareness of the importance of forest research. Indeed, as still unofficial reports that the Forest Science Program – a major source of research funds for Forestry, as we will see later in this chapter – was threatened by provincial budget cuts, the Associate Dean, Graduate Studies and Research, enjoined her colleagues to start writing about the relevance of their work. In an electronic message to the community distributed on the 24th of April, 2009, which I here reproduce in full, she wrote: We have reason to believe that some decision-makers in governments are of the opinion that science is a luxury and does not really contribute much to the well-being of our province – financially, socially or even environmentally. This seems to be the case even in areas like forestry which you would think to be a no-brainer in terms of direct impact on the viability of our most important industry in the province, the well-being of citizens in communities throughout the province, and the sustainability of the ecosystems on which we depend for much of this well-being. It appears that we have not been doing enough to promote the importance of the science and scholarship that we do, and the contributions that we make to policy and practices throughout the province. I am inviting each of you to think about the research that you do and the other contributions that you make in each of these important areas that benefit the province and write a short article to be published in Branchlines and on our website, and broadly distributed throughout the province, to demonstrate what we do: RESEARCH THAT MATTERS – RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW. I know that we do many other good things – fundamental research and research that matters throughout the world, and we will be promoting these in the future. Think about it, please. (Distributed e-mail from Cindy Prescott, 24th of April, 2009) 102 As demonstrated by the pressing tone of this message, the urgent character of demonstrating forest research’s relevance is deeply felt in the Faculty of Forestry. Even at times when no specific threats are issued, there remains a high emphasis on relevance in Forestry’s written representations of its work. Online presence For many first-time visitors to the Faculty of Forestry, and perhaps even more so for prospective students, the first contact with Forestry will not be made in person, but rather through the Faculty’s web site. The home page of its web site, shown in Figure 1, is designed in shades of green and offers information about the Forestry’s training programs and research activities. The heading of the home page consists of the Faculty’s logo with forest understory in the background, on the right of which a random image labelled “Welcome to our classroom” is shown. The “classroom” is actually, in all but two of the images displayed, an outdoor location: one can see a young woman in a kayak on a lake, aerial views of forests and lakes, and various photos of young people in the forest. Among the randomly displayed photos, there is a view of the FSC atrium and a photo of two smiling men in the Centre for Advanced Wood Processing, operating a machine. It is implied that, in Forestry’s classrooms, there are no desks, no chairs, and no blackboards. 103 Figure 1 Homepage of the Faculty of Forestry’s web site The left and centre parts of the page respectively offer a selection of links for certain categories of web site visitors and to the Faculty’s academic programs’ information pages, including four “Bachelor of Science” programs and the graduate programs. The right-hand side of the page offers news and feature items that go beyond basic academic information. There is a photo of one of the “featured faculty members” (see analysis below), also randomly displayed, and a list of “news” items. As of January 9th, 2009, the news items informed readers about the opening of new facilities at a research forest, the Dean’s research work on the impact of biofuels on climate change, a National Aboriginal Achievement Award received by the co-chair of the Faculty’s First Nations’ Council of Advisors, recent 104 provincial investments in the training of aboriginal foresters, and the granting of the top award of the Society of Canadian Ornithologists to Kathy Martin, a professor in the Forest Sciences department. In a single web page, visitors can see the two sides of Forestry: its simultaneous engagement in scientific education and research (illustrated by the academic programs and the award won by Kathy Martin) and in socially relevant endeavours (such as climate change and aboriginal affairs). Visitors delving deeper in Forestry’s web site by clicking the link to “Forestry Graduate Programs” (see Figure 2) may notice that this page has a different header, this time illustrating themes dear to Forestry: “tough decisions,” “technological advances,” “complex issues,” “vibrant economies,” “conservation of biodiversity,” and “global solutions.” A sub- header, with another water body in the background, sequentially displays the labels of research areas: “landscape ecology & design,” “sustainable forest management,” “forests & society,” “forest ecosystems,” “forest genetics,” “watershed hydrology & ecology,” “wood science & technology,” “business management & marketing,” “biomaterials & biotechnology,” “conservation,” “biometrics & measurement,” and “timber building technology.” Here again, the designers of the web site decided to allude to both scientific and forest-sector themes. 105 Figure 2 Graduate programs’ page on the Faculty of Forestry web site I mentioned earlier the link to “featured faculty profiles” on the web site’s front page. The profiles, which represent the current activities of a select group of faculty members to web site visitors, offer interesting insight into what the Faculty deems important to showcase. The ten faculty members profiled as of early 2009 are about equally distributed between the three departments, and the proportion of women among those featured is roughly equal to their proportional weight within the Faculty as a whole.17 The profiles do not follow 17 The faculty members featured are: Robert Fürst, Taraneh Sowlati, Nicholas Coops, Stavros Avramidis, Sue Grayston, Robert Guy, John Innes, Yousry El-Kassaby, Jack Saddler, and Stephen Sheppard. 106 an identical, formal structure, but rather are written as plain-language articles with few technical terms. Two main observations emerge from the analysis of those profiles. First, the profiles reveal that these faculty members work in very diverse research areas and bring in a wide range of academic, scientific, and professional backgrounds, but that for the most part their work is directly connected to trees or forests, or to the products and services associated with them. A primary source of diversity lies in the bodies of knowledge mobilized by the researchers. They are not at first identified to a scientific discipline, but there are a few references to knowledge areas, including a small cluster in ecology, biology, and genetics (El-Kassaby, Grayston, Guy, and Saddler to some extent). The other faculty members are scattered between different areas of expertise: forest management (Innes), industrial engineering (Sowlati), mathematics and physics (Avramidis), planning (Sheppard), and remote sensing (Coops). One profile directly refers to the importance of combining natural and social sciences (Innes). But the diversity does not stop there: the faculty members come to Forestry with previously established ties to other regions (elsewhere in Canada, the United Kingdom, Australia, the United States, Germany) and organizations, notably after years of experience working in government (Coops, Grayston) or industry (El-Kassaby, Fürst). Furthermore, the faculty members are told to be working collaboratively with government (El-Kassaby) and industry (Fürst), as well as with scientific colleagues, including their students and other faculty members. For those whose collaborations are mentioned, the countries from which the researchers are said to draw their collaborators are mostly within the Commonwealth, although the list also includes Japan (Fürst) and China, Mexico, and Brazil (Innes). Four faculty members are noted to have (or have been) involved in international organizations or committees (El-Kassaby, Innes, Saddler, and Sheppard). While the Faculty can boast to benefit from international 107 connections, those – based on the featured profiles – seem to be primarily based in the English-speaking world. The second observation concerns the faculty members’ research areas, which can hardly be distinguished from the intended purpose of that research. In all but one of the featured profiles, the questions raised are at the same time problems for science and problems for human societies in general: Is it possible to develop rigorous sophisticated models to describe the various physical-chemical phenomena that take place within the microstructure of wood in processing and in service? Can natural and artificial intelligence be used to develop new processing methods and decision support systems to help industry reduce fibre losses and increase revenues? (Avramidis) Population and quantitative genetics, breeding theory, reproductive biology and ecology, seed and seedling production, GIS, and biotechnology techniques and genomics tools. All of these approaches can help forest geneticists supply our forests with improved seedlings that will grow a superior forest. (El-Kassaby) How can forestry be changed so that it is actually beneficial to the environment and to the people that live in or near forests? How can it better integrate with other land uses so that there are no adverse cumulative effects? (Innes) The only exception concerns the work of Rob Guy, who is said to seek answers to the following questions: “How do plants adapt to and react with the changing environment? How does photosynthesis actually work? Why can some plants tolerate drought better than the others?” The questions are framed in more scientific terms, but the relevance to humans is only a step away, as finding the answers to such questions could directly impact the capacity to select crops that will support survival. When the Faculty of Forestry presents the work of its researchers to the wider world by the way of its web site, it emphasizes its relevance and even its critical character to a 108 broad range of stakeholders. Companies may decrease their waste and increase their revenues if they learn from some faculty members’ work (Avramidis, Fürst, Sowlati). Policy-makers may find their planning efforts facilitated by the work of others (Sheppard). Government and industry alike, and eventually the entire population of British Columbia, have an interest in monitoring and improving trees and forests (Coops, El-Kassaby) or their management (Innes). Everyone will be impacted by the development of alternative energy sources (Saddler). The microscopic life inhabiting soil even supports our very survival (Grayston), as do the plants that manage to grow even in adverse times (Guy). Those researchers’ work is couched – for the web site readers’ eyes – in terms of its potential or actual impacts on human activities, with little to no attention paid to its scientific context or importance. This might be the result of a deliberate decision on the part of the author(s) of the profiles based on the assumption that the audience reading the profiles does not have the necessary scientific background to appreciate such a discussion. The focus on application in the profiles nonetheless indicates that the Faculty of Forestry is aware of the social, environmental, political, and/or economic context and possible implications of its research activities. At least for those in charge of the web site, the potential applications of forest research are an asset that should be displayed prominently. In print Over 2,000 individuals with ties to the Faculty of Forestry (as alumni) or otherwise active within the forest sector receive the printed publications of the Faculty of Forestry : its annual report and the Branchlines newsletter, now published twice (formerly thrice) a year. The Annual Report is largely an accountability tool centralizing data about the evolution of the Faculty of Forestry in a single source, which I use later in this chapter to discuss the evolution of funding over the years. Branchlines, on the other hand, has become since 2005 an elaborate, full-colour mini-magazine featuring recent developments in UBC Forestry 109 research and, to a lesser degree, teaching activities. The list of cover-page titles presented in Table 3 shows that research that matters to more than just the scientific community is often featured. Table 3 Branchlines newsletter cover-page article titles, 2004 to 2009 Issue number Date Title and subtitle Volume 15, No. 1 March 2004 Forestry as an asset to the community Volume 15, No. 2 September 2004 Culturally modified trees: A case study for education. Differences in values between industrial forestry and indigenous people have immediate practical effects. Volume 15, No. 3 December 2004 Where have all the flowers gone? Emily Gonzales is determined to found [sic] out Volume 16, No. 1 March 2005 Where have all the fish gone? A team from Forest Sciences looks at why salmon are perishing during migration. Volume 16, No. 2 September 2005 Mountain pine beetle research at UBC Volume 16, No. 3 December 2005 Future forest ecosystems Volume 17, No. 1 March 2006 Wood Science at UBC Volume 17, No. 2 September 2006 Biofuels and bioenergy – challenges and opportunities Volume 17, No. 3 December 2006 Percy Barr’s research forest Volume 18, No. 1 March 2007 Stanley Park’s recovery Volume 18, No. 2 September 2007 Making smarter conservation decisions for migratory species Volume 19, No. 1 2008 Our Changing Climate Volume 19, No. 2 2008 Investing in the future. Graduate education and research in the Faculty of Forestry Volume 20, No. 1 2009 Creating Great Graduates To offer some insight into how the Faculty of Forestry represents its work in its newsletter, I randomly selected three issues among the above-listed to examine their content more closely: March 2005, December 2006, and September 2007. Of the 24 total articles found in those three issues, seven did not refer to research activities and were not analyzed. For the other 17, I systematically took note of mentions of science, technology, interdisciplinarity, utility, stakeholders, and partners (scientific or not). 110 Every article referred to science and/or technology, and also to some type of use or need that either triggered the research or would ensue from it. While the mentions of utility were easy to label, those of science or technology sometimes were more implicit. For instance, in articles about the research forests, the authors noted the importance of monitoring forests over the long term and of regularly taking measurements on long-standing experimental plots, insisting on the benefits of the increased knowledge made possible. The systematic character of the endeavour is here understood as scientific, although the exact body of knowledge that such longitudinal observations build upon and contribute to is not specified. In most cases, however, there was a clear, explicit mention of a knowledge area and/or of a technological advance linked to a need to fulfill. Architecture and engineering would come together to improve the use of wood in building construction. The entomological study of G. sulcatus and G. retusus – two types of Ambrosia beetles – were supporting the development of pest management. A combination of avian biology, chemistry, and decision theory would bring improvements to conservation efforts regarding migratory species. Geographic information systems and new spatial analysis techniques could be used to improve ecosystem managements and even to support the oral history accounts of Haida elders. Science and/or technology, in the context of Branchlines articles, are means to ends. The fact that forest research is done with a utilitarian horizon in mind does not mean that no new scientific knowledge is created. John McLean, professor in the department of Forest Sciences, recalled the work he conducted with mentors, colleagues, and students at the Malcolm Knapp Research Forest, and the dual outcomes: In conjunction with the extensive knowledge of the most numerous ambrosia beetle Trypodendron lineatum, collected by John Borden and colleagues, we have been able to set up an ambrosia beetle pest management operation around the new custom cut sawmill and adjacent log building enterprise at the Malcolm Knapp Research Forest. (McLean, 2006, p. 4) 111 In fact, the scientific contribution of the researchers – because of its scientific character – was thought to be of great value in improving the quality of the policy-making process: Although most of the students in the Hinch lab come from backgrounds in animal ecology, they learn quickly that management issues on important fish such as sockeye salmon are complex and require working with a diverse group of stakeholders – and knowledge of more than biology. Hinch says that this is perhaps more apparent this year than in the past. “This year, members of our research team have been called upon to provide testimony at a recent federal inquiry into the management and conservation of Fraser salmon... the work conducted by my students is helping to bring real science to debates that typically involve little science and a lot of finger pointing.” (Cooke, 2005, p. 2) Notably, the two most recent issues of Branchlines were dedicated to graduate students and their work. Most articles in those two issues are written by graduate students who are paired up to write about each other’s work. Although more focused on the students’ biographies, the articles again highlight the centrality of potential applications, if not in the daily practice, at least as a motivation. Nevertheless, the focus of the Branchlines newsletter, as that of the Faculty of Forestry’s web site, is on the close ties between forest research activities and the social, political, economic, and environmental issues they can help address. Getting together Over the period of my fieldwork in the Faculty of Forestry, a number of public lectures, academic events, and social gatherings were held, at the rate of approximately one major event per month between September and April. The gatherings that attracted a large number of individuals tended to be organized by the staff of the Dean’s office and/or by the Forestry Graduate Students Association; events organized by departments would have risked going unnoticed for me, as I was not subscribing to departmental mailing lists. If departments 112 did organize events involving faculty members and graduate students, it would have been at a much smaller scale. The event which the Dean encouraged us all to attend that I mentioned in this chapter’s introduction was indeed a key moment of the 2007-2008 academic year. A day- long special event held on March 11th, it seemed to have been broadly advertised outside of the Faculty of Forestry as part of UBC’s Celebrate Research Week. The day opened at 11:30 a.m. with a “memorandum of understanding signing ceremony,” in the context of which the Dean of Forestry, the Dean of Applied Sciences, and the president and chief executive officer of FPInnovations ceremonially signed an agreement formalizing their long-standing collaboration. Interestingly, however, as I asked around, nobody could tell me what the agreement entailed exactly, and a disillusioned professor later told me that while agreements were often signed it would not translate into increased funding. The ceremony was followed by a workshop lasting the entire afternoon organized by the BC Forum on Forest Economics and Policy about climate change, where two faculty members (Sally Aitken and Stephen Sheppard) and two non-academics (the executive director of the provincial government’s climate change policy and the province’s Chief Forester) shared the stage to discuss what climate change “means for BC’s forests, communities, and economy.” Held in one of the larger first-floor classrooms, the workshop gathered a full audience for the entire afternoon. The last event, a lecture by FPInnovation’s president and CEO Ian de la Roche, was held in the Fletcher Challenge Canada Theatre, which was filled to capacity. The speaker’s lecture was titled “Trees: The Building Blocks of a Global Bio-Economy” and emphasized the capacity of forest products to be economic drivers beyond the currently depressed situation of the industry. A poster session was held throughout the afternoon, and graduate students 113 presented their research to their Forestry colleagues as well as to outsiders who had come to attend one of the day’s events, including public servants and FPInnovations employees. A showcase-event like this one reveals how well integrated forestry researchers are with outside research organizations and with the forest sector more generally. Forestry professors shared the stage with key actors from other organizations, and although there might have been disagreements over certain points I did not perceive an oppositional climate. In fact, my experience of Forestry events leads me to describe the climate as generally quite welcoming. The “faculty research seminars” exemplify this. According to a September 17th, 2007 e-mail sent on the behalf of the Associate Dean of Graduate Education and Research, the purpose of those seminars was “to address grad students’ concerns that they did not have an opportunity to find out what faculty members other than their supervisors were working on.” There was only one such seminar in 2007-2008 (“Ethics and Integrity in Scientific Research: Some Reflections,” by Tom Sullivan) but four were organized in the Fall of 2008 alone. A collage of the posters advertising them, prepared by Forestry’s graphic designer and distributed by email as well as in print, is shown in Figure 3. 114 Figure 3 Posters for research seminars in the Faculty of Forestry, Fall of 2008 The three I attended (Sullivan, Mitchell, and Innes) were presented to a crowd of 50 people or more, filling the CAWP case room seats and causing members of the audience to sit on tables and stand in the doorways. Quick headcounts reveal that a dozen or less faculty members were in attendance, as well as a handful of staff members, the rest of the audience comprising, as far as I could tell, of Forestry graduate students. Snacks and drinks were offered, provided by the Dean’s Office. The presentations started on time or so, and generally there was little movement among the audience until at least the end of the formal presentation, when some people would leave before the start of the question period. Except for Innes’ talk, which was scheduled for two hours (and lost some more of the audience before the end), all seminars were held in only one hour, and finished on time as well. 115 A similar set-up was in place for the Global Tea House Talk Series, organized by the Forestry Graduate Student Association and featuring international graduate students talking about some aspect of their country of origin (which may or may not be exclusively focused on forestry). Countries covered included Chile, Argentina, Iran, India, and France, and there was also a talk on Africa in general. I attended those on Chile and India. Figure 4 Global Tea House Talk Series sample poster Because the five talks I attended were so different, I will not venture general conclusions about the content of the seminars from the fragmented evidence afforded by my fieldnotes. However, two general observations revealing important traits of the Faculty of Forestry’s culture can be made. First, coming from the social sciences, I was struck every time by the heavy reliance of presenters on visual support and in particular on photographs during Forestry 116 presentations. It seems like the use of photographs responds at the same time to functional and aesthetic concerns: sometimes, they illustrated the speakers’ points or were discussed in detail, but at other times they were not discussed at all, did not represent something specifically announced in the oral portion of the talk, or were shown as an aside, sometimes with humour. The photographs offered a representation of “reality” into the talk, opposed to the “abstract” written or spoken words. They were never examined critically in terms of the circumstances in which they were taken or used by the researcher. There were, at the same time, pragmatic and playful aspects to those colourful illustrations: it was as if the presenter (and the audience) wished they could be outdoors, in closer contact with reality, and in a place they also found more enjoyable than the windowless seminar room. The second observation concerns note-taking and particularly struck me because it exposed me as an outsider. As a fieldworker taking copious amounts of notes, I thought I would be inconspicuous among audience members at an academic seminar; surprisingly, I found my observer status given away by the fact that the people around me usually took no notes at all! Casual conversation with a number of informants leads me to believe that audience members attend faculty-wide seminars out of curiosity and interest for the work of their colleagues, but that they see few connections with their own work and thus do not feel compelled to take notes. Had I attended smaller-scale seminars where only researchers working in a similar field were in attendance, I was told, I might have seen more pens hitting the paper. I have appreciated this friendly curiosity myself almost every time I introduced myself and the purpose of my presence in the Faculty of Forestry. A participant noted that he thought it was “very cool” to be the object of someone else’s research, and whenever I came across Forestry people, in their building or elsewhere on campus or in town, they would ask 117 about how my research was progressing and about my findings. A few insisted that I should let them know when I was going to defend my dissertation or present some results. My work was never questioned in a critical, aggressive or defensive matter. This is the same behaviour that I observed within Forestry ranks in the context of faculty-wide events: colleagues showed interest by attending each others’ lectures and asked questions to understand the subject of the talk better, but seldom, if ever, challenged the presenters in such a wide-open context. If there is a debate about what belongs or does not belong to Forestry, or what is or is not acceptable in terms of research practices, it is not a debate that surfaces in the organization’s public events. Interventions in mainstream newspapers The Faculty of Forestry is represented in both internal (UBC) and external media on a regular basis. To capture some of the organization’s image on campus as well as on the provincial and Canadian scene, I analyzed the coverage of UBC Forestry by official campus publications and mainstream media in 2007 and 2008. In 2007, UBC Reports published three articles representing work emanating from Forestry. The first issue of the year, under the title “The Next Big Thing,” offered a full page to Dean Jack Saddler and to his research associate Warren Mabee who published an essay discussing how wood could replace oil in the “forest biorefinery” (January 4th, 2007, p. 7). In the November issue of 2007, associate professor Gary Bull’s reforestation work in Afghanistan was prominently featured in an article emphasizing the international collaborations and the complex, multi-faceted problem he and his student KiJoo Han are facing, requiring contributions from many disciplines of the sciences and social sciences. The third article mentioning the Faculty of Forestry that year was a short announcement of the Faculty’s new undergraduate program, the Global Perspectives major, which brings 118 undergraduates to work on international case studies and sends students abroad for hands-on international experience, a component that, according to an interviewed faculty member (Scott Hinch), corresponds to the demand from students. No articles about work in the Faculty of Forestry were found in the UBC Reports for 2008. There were also UBC media releases that mentioned the Faculty of Forestry members during those two years. One, released on June 14th, 2007, celebrated the 50th anniversary of the arrival of the Sopron School of Forestry students and faculty members in Vancouver. Besides offering a recollection of the circumstances of the arrival of the Sopron students and faculty members, the news release underlines the Sopron’s contribution to Canada – 80 per cent of them, according to the release, stayed in the country after graduation – and heralds their collective scientific contribution, consisting of: 1,200 refereed papers, 1,000 conference proceedings, 46 books and 56 patents in 26 academic fields including pulp and paper, forest regeneration, timber engineering, fire protection, and park management. The other two media releases only briefly mention the Faculty of Forestry. One is about a recent publication by Jorg Bohlmann and colleagues in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (January 14th, 2008). Bohlmann is described as collaborating with the B.C. Ministry of Forests, the Canadian Forest Service, and the forest industry, but his primary affiliation is said to be the Michael Smith Laboratories, while he has a teaching appointment in the department of Forest Sciences, among other affiliations. The third release announces the award of an important NSERC grant to a group of researchers working on pulp and paper, to which an adjunct professor from the department of Wood Sciences, Rodger Beatson, is affiliated. 119 There were more mentions of Forestry faculty members in external media over the same period.18 A total of 62 articles corresponded to the search criteria, were examined in greater depth and coded. Nine of those were duplicates or quasi-duplicates, and published by different newspapers (on the base of a press agency release or of a newspaper group newsroom, as in the case of CanWest publications). The Vancouver Sun was the most common venue for forestry-related articles (11 articles), followed by the Globe & Mail (10 articles), the National Post (8 articles), which has a journalist who regularly covers forest industry matters (Nathan Van der Klippe), and the Victoria Times Colonist (4 articles). The rest of the articles were divided between other capital or major-city newspapers (such as the Ottawa Citizen) and regional newspapers (like the Prince George Citizen). Forestry faculty members, and sometimes their students, are mostly introduced in articles as expert commentators. While it is likely that they spent a fair amount of time being interviewed by a journalist, and may have informed and influenced the construction of the news story, their contribution is usually only identifiable thanks to a short quote. Dave Cohen, for example, from the department of Wood Science, was mentioned three times in articles about the forest economy, and this quotation from the November 13th, 2008 Calgary Herald is typical of this journalistic technique: according to Cohen, the value of timberland has increased “based on its future value for environmental services. There’s a lot of people with a lot of money who think it’s going to come to fruition.” The quote adds to the authority of the journalist’s story. Sometimes, the Forestry academics’ perspective was presented as a counterpoint to another perspective mentioned earlier in the article. For example, on April 18 To assess Forestry’s media presence in the general media, the English-language online database Canadian Newsstand was searched for 2007 and 2008 for the phrases “University of British Columbia” or “UBC” combined with either “forestry,” “forest science,” “forest resource management,” and/or “wood science” in the full text of the articles. Thus, articles referring to a Forestry faculty member without mentioning that faculty member’s affiliation are not included, a decision justified by my purpose, which was to explore the representation of the Faculty of Forestry outside of UBC. 120 12th, 2007, the Globe & Mail published an article about an audit of the B.C. Finance Ministry that raised concerns about the independence of scalers (the licensed professionals paid by forest companies to assess the value of the trees logged on crown land). Offering a different point of view to that of the audit report, Kevin Lyons – presented as a “former logger and now assistant forestry professor” – noted that “it is common practice to have professionals being charged with protecting the public interest and being paid by industry – for example, engineers,” although Lyons agreed, according to the article, that “lack of training” was a problem in the industry. In another instance, Gary Bull is called on to rebut an environmentalist’s claim that logging old growth forests releases carbon (Vancouver Sun, October 9th, 2007). Bull is quoted as saying that comparing old growth to plantation forests is not appropriate, and that old growth actually does not store much new carbon because the trees in it have stopped growing. Occasionally, the academics’ contribution occupies a more important role in the article. Such interventions tend to revolve around statements, by the academics, of a problem that they think should be of public interest. For example, an article in the Vancouver Sun extensively quotes Michael Feller, from the department of Forest Sciences, about the fire hazard posed by the damaged forest around University Endowment Land properties (February 22nd, 2007). Similarly, John McLean, supported by additional quotes by Steve Mitchell, warns that insects may benefit from the 2006 Stanley Park storm that killed or weakened many trees to invade our parks (January 27th, 2007). Phil Evans, from Wood Science, is reported as attempting to guide forest industry leaders towards the development and marketing of more innovative wood products in order to revitalize manufacturing towns (Alberni Valley Times, January 14th, 2008). The Dean of Forestry, Jack Saddler, issued a warning of a different kind: following the closure of BCIT’s forestry programs in early 2007, 121 he was interviewed by a Vancouver Sun journalist and noted that there is a “big problem in enrolment in forestry programs” because while the number of students registered decline, the social needs for trained professionals in the field remain high (February 6th, 2007). Other times, in a small number of cases (18 different articles), Forestry faculty members or students are at the core of a newspaper article, and their research work is prominently featured. Such an appearance usually follows the publication of an article in a prestigious scientific journal, the award of a prize or of research funding, or the beginning or end of a collaborative research project with government organizations to tackle a problem of public interest. For example, four separate articles were dedicated to Younes Alila and/or Markus Weiler’s hydrological work in both the North Shore and the Fraser River watershed and to their assessment of the flooding risks posed by changes in the forest cover, either due to increased urban development or to the Mountain Pine Beetle epidemics. Two of those articles note the recent research funding received by the researchers, while the other two demonstrate the application of their model to forecast future water levels. The Collaborative for Advanced Landscape Planning initiative, led by Stephen Sheppard, was also presented in two different articles, one related to the municipality of Kimberley’s hope that CALP would receive funding to apply their visualization tool to that city’s landscape (Daily Bulletin, Kimberley, July 24th, 2008), and the other on the UBC researchers’ collaboration with the municipality of Delta, an area where thoughts about rising water levels are a cause for public concern (Vancouver Sun, December 1st, 2007). Recent articles published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Science (by Jorg Bohlmann) about the sequencing of the poplar genome and in Science magazine (by John Innes and Guangyu Wang) about sustainable forest management initiatives in China also have triggered media attention. On rare occasions, there seems to be no particular event at the source of the media attention: in a 122 September 15th, 2007, National Post article, Sally Aitken’s Ph.D. student Sierra Curtis McLane’s research on whitebark pine growth areas is featured (along with a large photo of her in full fieldwork gear). Across all of the mainstream newspaper articles examined, none conveyed explicit or even covert criticism of the UBC Faculty of Forestry or of its researchers. When, as we have seen above, the journalists called on Forestry faculty members to counter another protagonist’s arguments, there never was a third protagonist invoked to counter or criticize the Forestry researcher’s point of view. When non-Forestry individuals were quoted discussing Forestry work, it was usually as collaborators or allies, such as in the context of Stephen Sheppard’s work with the municipal governments of Delta and Kimberley. Conversely, Forestry researchers were not portrayed as critics of the forest sector. For the most part, they appear as experts who share their knowledge and, in some cases, their concerns with the public. They are represented as seeking improvements to forest management or to other related processes, explaining the current situation, sometimes suggesting incremental reforms, but never radical transformations. Publications: a source and a display of scientific capital Publications in peer-reviewed journals are a widely agreed-upon form of cultural capital that is specific to the scientific field (Bourdieu, 2004). As academic researchers, Forestry faculty members are expected to publish such articles, and analyzing their production allows for a better understanding of Forestry researchers’ position relative to the scientific field more generally. The scientific publications simultaneously serve as a source of scientific capital that improves researchers’ position and as a display of the capital that they 123 already have, as the journals in which the articles are published and the colleagues with whom they are co-written reveal where forest researchers stand. Data about the publications of Forestry faculty members in scientific journals was extracted from the Science Citation Index (SCI), the Social Sciences Citation Index (SSCI), and the Arts and Humanities Citation Index (AHCI), three databases maintained by the Institute for Scientific Information or ISI19. To be included in the initial, rough set of data, articles had to have at least one author with the same last name as one of the faculty members on the list posted on the Faculty of Forestry’s web site, and at least one author address had to be within British Columbia. The period was limited to 2001-2005, for which a complete dataset was available. Through iterative phases of data cleaning, I narrowed down the list to a total of 583 articles associated with Forestry faculty members. This sum only includes publications in journals indexed by the three above-mentioned databases, excluding, among other types of publications, articles in non-indexed journals, conference papers, and reports. A total of 58 individual UBC Forestry faculty members were identified as having at least one article within the examined databases20. An important part of the production of indexed articles is the result of a small number of researchers: 13 faculty authors are responsible for nearly 50 per cent of Forestry’s production (287 of 583 articles), although 40 faculty members (or approximately 60 per cent) have published at least one indexed article per year. 19 Vincent Larivière of the Observatoire des sciences et des technologies extracted the data in June 2007. 20 Preparing the data on Forestry publications proved to be challenging due to the fact that some faculty members have more than one affiliation, have recently changed affiliation, and/or do not systematically identify themselves as belonging to the same organization. The method employed allowed me to account for articles published by a given faculty member during the period but signed under a different organizational address, as long as it was located in British Columbia. The production of faculty members who recently arrived to UBC from a different province or country would thus be under-represented in this analysis. 124 Distribution by discipline and specialty The articles were published in 173 different journals. The most important journal for UBC Forestry authors is, by far, the Canadian Journal of Forest Research (76 articles), followed by Forest Ecology and Management (36 articles) and the Forest Products Journal (33 articles). As shown in Table 4, 348 articles, or 60 per cent of the total volume of articles, are concentrated within the 27 journals that have at least 5 articles each. 125 Table 4 Journals with at least 5 articles by UBC Forestry faculty members, SCI, SCCI and AHCI, 2001-2005 Journal Number of articles Canadian Journal of Forest Research 76 Forest Ecology and Management 36 Forest Products Journal 33 Abstracts of Papers of the American Chemical Society 19 Wood and Fiber Science 19 Applied Biochemistry and Biotechnology 13 Canadian Journal of Botany 12 Holzforschung 12 Canadian Journal of Fisheries and Aquatic Sciences 11 Hydrological Processes 10 Journal of the American Water Resources Association 8 Mycological Research 8 Theoretical and Applied Genetics 8 Drying Technology 7 FEMS Microbiology Letters 7 Oecologica 7 Plant Physiology 7 Silvae Genetica 7 Wood Science and Technology 7 Canadian Journal of Civil Engineering 6 Bioscience 5 Biotechnology and Bioengineering 5 Journal of Agricultural and Food Chemistry 5 Journal of Fish Biology 5 Journal of Heredity 5 Proceedings of the Royal Society of London Series B – Biological Sciences 5 Water Resources Research 5 According to ISI’s classification, more than 8 out of 10 articles are in one of three main disciplines: biology collects almost half of the articles (279 articles or 47.9 per cent), followed by Engineering (100 articles or 17.2 per cent) and Biomedical Research (92 articles or 15.8 per cent). Other important fields are Chemistry (33 articles or 5.7 per cent) and Earth 126 and Space (32 articles or 5.5 per cent). Table 5 shows how the remaining articles are scattered in journals across the disciplinary spectrum, while a few remain unclassified. The department of Forest Sciences is most heavily concentrated within biology with more than three quarters of its articles published in this discipline. Wood Science, on the other hand, accounts for most of the Engineering articles, which represent 44.1 per cent of its publication effort. The department of Forest Resources Management is the most diversified from a disciplinary perspective, with 32.3 per cent of its articles in biology, 25.3 per cent in Earth and Space, and 10.1 per cent in Engineering, with 15.2 per cent in fields more closely associated with the social sciences (Economics, Law, Philosophy, Political Science, Public Administration, and Sociology). Across all departments, the specialties of biology that account for the highest number of articles are botany (141 articles) and ecology (68 articles), while materials science accounts for the majority of publications in engineering (76 articles). I further classified journals in two categories: forest-specific and non-forest specific. Forest-specific journals were identified based on the journal title or subtitle, which had to directly refer to forests, forestry, trees, wood, or pulp and paper. Across the faculty, 36.7 per cent of all articles (214 of 583) were found in forest-specific journals, a trend that was similar in all three departments. Thus, the vast majority of publications by Forestry faculty members are not to be found in forest-specific journals (Table 6). 127 Table 5 Discipline of articles published by UBC Forestry faculty members, by department, SCI, SSCI and AHCI, 2001-2005 Department Forest Resources Management Forest Sciences Wood Science Total Discipline N % N % N % N % Biology 32 32.3 218 77.3 29 14.4 279 47.9 Biomedical Research 3 3.0 48 17.0 41 20.3 92 15.8 Chemistry 0.0 1 0.4 32 15.8 33 5.7 Earth and Space 25 25.3 7 2.5 0.0 32 5.5 Economics 1 1.0 0.0 0.0 1 0.2 Engineering 10 10.1 1 0.4 89 44.1 100 17.2 Geography 0.0 1 0.4 0.0 1 0.2 Law 1 1.0 0.0 0.0 1 0.2 Management 0.0 0.0 1 0.5 1 0.2 Mathematics 0.0 0.0 1 0.5 1 0.2 Philosophy 1 1.0 0.0 0.0 1 0.2 Physics 0.0 1 0.4 0.0 1 0.2 Political Science 8 8.1 0.0 0.0 8 1.4 Psychology 0.0 2 0.7 0.0 2 0.3 Public Management 1 1.0 0.0 0.0 1 0.2 Sociology 3 3.0 0.0 0.0 3 0.5 Unknown 14 14.1 3 1.1 9 4.5 26 4.5 Total 99 100.0 282 100.0 202 100.0 583 100.0 128 Table 6 Articles published in forest-specific journals, by department, SCI, SSCI and AHCI, 2001-2005 Department Forest Resources Management Forest Sciences Wood Science Total Type of journal N % N % N % N % Forest-specific journals 36 36.4 100 35.5 78 38.6 214 36.7 Non-forest- specific journals 63 63.6 182 64.5 124 61.4 369 63.3 Total 99 100.0 282 100.0 202 100.0 583 100.0 Distribution by degree of application The “degree of application” variable was created by the firm CHI Inc. and assigns a value ranging from 1.0 (very applied) to 4.0 (very basic) to journals. Not all journals indexed by ISI have been attributed a degree of application. Within our database, 529 articles were in journals with a known degree of application. As shown in Table 7, members of the department of Forest Resources Management are pictured to be publishing articles in the most applied journals based on this indicator, with a rating of 1.94 and a low standard deviation. Forest Sciences faculty members publish in more basic journals, with an average rating of 2.91. Wood Science authors stand in between. Over all, the average degree of application for Forestry publications is 2.66, which places Forestry research closer to the “basic” end of the spectrum. 129 Table 7 Degree of application of the journals in which UBC Forestry articles are published, SCI, SSCI and AHCI, 2001-2005 Degree of application Department Forest Resources Management Forest Sciences Wood Science Total N % N % N % N % 1.0 17 25.0 34 12.3 66 35.7 117 22.1 2.0 44 64.7 81 29.3 22 11.9 147 27.8 3.0 1 1.5 37 13.4 23 12.4 62 11.8 4.0 6 8.8 124 44.9 73 39.5 203 38.4 Average 1.94 2.91 2.56 2.66 Std Dev 0.79 1.11 1.33 1.20 N of articles 68 276 185 529 Collaborations Most of Forestry faculty members’ publications are co-authored: to the 583 articles identified were associated a total of 1,285 signatures, which means that on average there were 2.2 signatures per article. As shown in Table 8, while the majority of those 1,285 signatures were from UBC, researchers from other organizations were also involved with UBC Forestry faculty authors. The majority were affiliated to either Canadian (83) or international (207) post-secondary institutions, but over 10 per cent were from government agencies or organizations in Canada (117) or abroad (56). A few articles were co-authored with researchers from the private, for-profit sector (72) while significantly less were co-authored with non-government organizations or international organizations authors (27). Some trends by departments can be noted: the department of Forest Sciences has a lower proportion of its signatures within UBC and is more involved in collaborations with Canadian academics and government affiliates from Canada. Wood Science and Forest Resources Management, on the other hand, have more UBC signatures. Wood Science collaborates more with NGO or INGO (including industry associations) researchers. 130 Table 8 Types of organizations associated with signatures of UBC Forestry faculty members’ publications, by department, SCI, SSCI and AHCI, 2001-2005 Department Type of organization Forest Resources Management Forest Sciences Wood Science Total N % N % N % N % UBC 114 59.1 294 41.9 241 61.8 649 50.5 Canadian PSE 14 7.3 62 8.8 7 1.8 83 6.5 International PSE 30 15.5 112 16.0 65 16.7 207 16.1 Gvt in Canada 13 6.7 95 13.5 9 2.3 117 9.1 Foreign Gvt 5 2.6 31 4.4 20 5.1 56 4.4 NGO or INGO 3 1.6 7 1.0 17 4.4 27 2.1 Private Sector 11 5.7 42 6.0 19 4.9 72 5.6 Other 1 0.5 32 4.6 5 1.3 38 3.0 Unknown/Not Sure 2 1.0 27 3.8 7 1.8 36 2.8 Total 193 100.0 702 100.0 390 100.0 1285 100.0 The detailed list of the collaborators’ affiliations further illustrates those differences by department, as the social networks of researchers seem to vary from one department to the next. Across the faculty, as shown in Table 9, the B.C. Ministry of Forests and the Canadian Forest Service are the most important collaborators, resulting primarily from the collaborations of researchers in Forest Resources Management and Forest Sciences, while they are absent from the list of Wood Science collaborators. 131 Table 10 shows the list of collaborating organizations with three or more signatures in common with UBC Forestry authors, by department. Table 9 Organizations associated with signatures of UBC Forestry faculty members’ publications, five or more signatures, SCI, SSCI and AHCI, 2001-2005 Affiliation of collaborators N of signatures British Columbia Ministry of Forests 39 Canadian Forest Service 30 North Carolina State University 20 Simon Fraser University 19 Applied Mammal Research Institute 16 Forintek Canada Corp. 16 Oregon State University 14 Agriculture & Agri-Food Canada 11 United States Department of Agriculture 11 University of Toronto 10 Macaulay Land Use Research Institute 9 Canadian Wildlife Service 8 Canadian Pacific Forest Products Research Ltd. 7 Kyoto University 7 University of Alberta 7 Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources 6 Pennsylvania State University 6 University of Saskatchewan 6 Carleton University 5 Max Plank Institute for Chemical Ecology 5 McGill University 5 Okanagan University College 5 Purdue University 5 University of California (Berkeley) 5 University of Oxford 5 University of Washington 5 University of Wisconsin 5 132 Table 10 Organizations associated with signatures of UBC Forestry faculty members’ publications, three or more signatures, by department, SCI, SSCI and AHCI, 2001-2005 Forest Resources Management Forest Sciences Wood Science Oregon State University British Columbia Ministry of Forests North Carolina State University British Columbia Ministry of Forests Canadian Forest Service Forintek Canada Corp. Canadian Forest Service Applied Mammal Research Institute United States Department of Agriculture Canadian Pacific Forest Products Research Ltd. Simon Fraser University Equilibrium Consulting Inc. Kyoto University Agriculture & Agri-Food Canada Ministry of Land, Infrastructure & Transport Simon Fraser University Macauley Land Use Research Institut Australian National University Canadian Wildlife Service Purdue University Oregon State University University of Oxford University of Alberta Korea University Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources University of Toronto Okanagan University College Read Jones Christoffersen Ltd. University of Saskatchewan Forestry & Forest Products Research Institute Carleton University University of Tokyo University of Wisconsin Pulp & Paper Research Institute of Canada North Carolina State University Max Planck Institute for Chemical Ecology McGill University University of California (Berkeley) University of Washington University of Toronto Fisheries & Oceans Canada Korea Forest Research Institute Pennsylvania State University The publications of Forestry faculty members in peer-reviewed journals again demonstrate the diversity of Forestry researchers’ collective contribution to the scientific field, as well as their simultaneous investments in basic and applied research. They are not bound to the field of forest research, as defined by forest-specific journals, but instead submit 133 their work to a range of disciplinary and topical communities. Further, the data presented in this section has shown that a notable proportion of the scientific production of Forestry researchers is jointly authored with researchers located outside of the Faculty of Forestry, including many in government agencies and some private organizations, as well as a range of academic colleagues in post-secondary institutions. Research commercialization The numerous collaborative ties between the Forestry researchers and non-academic organizations, and in particular the faculty’s ties with for-profit companies, could be expected to lead to the commercialization of some research findings. Based on preliminary data obtained from the UBC University-Industry Liaison Office (UILO), however, this does not seem to be the case. Table 11 shows that, between 2004 and 2008, Forestry researchers disclosed only 9 inventions to the UILO which, even when considered in proportion of its number of faculty members, is very little compared to the faculties of Applied Sciences and Science. The Faculty of Land and Food Systems, in comparison, with fewer faculty members and much less research funding, has disclosed twice the number of inventions during the same period. The number of patents filed and issued is also very low, and there were no active agreements for the exploitation of UBC Forestry intellectual property for the period covered by UILO data. 134 Table 11 Patents filed and issued, invention disclosures and intellectual property agreements, by faculty, UBC, 2004-2008 (preliminary data) Top-level unit FTE Faculty members Patents filed Patents Issued Invention Disclosures Agreements Applied Sciences 163 174 22 181 26 Arts 410 4 Commerce 97 1 Dentistry 33 3 20 1 Education 141 3 Forestry 52 4 2 9 Graduate studies 50 4 Land and Food Systems 43 22 64 18 6 Medicine 505 747 156 390 85 Pharmaceutical Sciences 36 55 19 13 11 Science 373 563 292 275 82 Others 520 95 344 60 Total N/A 2088 650 1262 271 Source: UBC University-Industry Liaison Office At the very least, it can be said that the type of research conducted in the Faculty of Forestry does not seem conducive to protection by legal means, such as patents. On the other hand, commercially-driven research in the Faculty of Forestry might be more likely to be protected by non-disclosure agreements. I encountered little evidence that such confidential research is conducted in Forestry; however I have no mean to assess the prevalence of such practices in quantitative terms at the moment, or to compare Forestry’s confidentiality practices to those of other faculties. Extramural and research funding Economic capital, while not sufficient, is a necessary condition of research: it is needed to purchase equipment, facilitate access to field sites, and support the livelihoods of those who conduct much of the data collection and analysis procedures, for the most part graduate students. An examination of the economic capital used by Forestry researchers – aggregated at the Faculty and departmental scales – illustrates the balance of scientific and 135 forest sector sources mobilized and some of the resulting opportunities and constraints for individual researchers, which will be further discussed in chapter 6. Based on the data published in the Faculty of Forestry’s Annual Reports from 1991 to 2007, extramural funding – most of which supporting research activities – started to exceed the general purpose operating budget fund in 1994-1995. At that time, they both hovered around $5,000,000. In 2007-2008, extramural funding, at $13,296,000, was nearly double the GPOB of the Faculty ($6,850,000). Figure 5 illustrates the distribution of Forestry’s extramural funding by category of source. The provincial and federal governments have most contributed to the growth of Forestry’s extramural funding since the early 1990s. The contribution of the provincial government has been fluctuating inconsistently over the years while federal funding has grown much more regularly, except for a short downturn in 1997-1998. The most spectacular feature of Figure 5 is the sudden increase in provincial funding in 1995-1996 and 1996-1997, which was almost immediately followed by a rapid reduction in provincial funds. This period corresponds to the establishment and rapid demise of the Forest Renewal British Columbia (FRBC) program, which despite its short lifespan allowed Forestry to recruit six new faculty members in endowed chair positions. The program stemmed from the rapid increase in stumpage revenues. The amounts contributed to Forestry were very high during the program’s first two years, as the sponsored chairs were established, and remained significant until the program was cancelled by the new Liberal government elected in the province in 2001. 136 Figure 5 Extramural funding of UBC Forestry, by source, in dollars, 1992-1993 to 2007-2008 Funding from private sources has also been irregular over the years. At its peak in 2002-2003, such sources represented over 22 per cent of the Faculty of Forestry’s extramural funding sources and reflected the profitability of the Canadian forest industry under favourable structural circumstances. Since then, revenues from private sources have been decreasing, and currently represent 10.5 per cent of all extramural funding. Generally speaking, Canadian forest companies have a low contribution to research and development by international standards (Hayter, 2000, pp. 360-361). The division of funding into only four broad categories, as presented in Figure 5, only starts to reflect the fluctuations of forest research funding. In fact, each group of sources includes many different programs, which also change over time and each come with their own specific requirements. For example, funding from the NSERC Discovery Grants Program comes with very few constraints compared to contracts from other federal government agencies, yet both are counted as federal funding. In order to better understand 0 1000000 2000000 3000000 4000000 5000000 6000000 7000000 9 2 /9 3 9 3 /9 4 9 4 /9 5 9 5 /9 6 9 6 /9 7 9 7 /9 8 9 8 /9 9 9 9 /0 0 0 0 /0 1 0 1 /0 2 0 2 /0 3 0 3 /0 4 0 4 /0 5 0 5 /0 6 0 6 /0 7 0 7 /0 8 Federal Provincial Private International 137 how its sources of research funding position the Faculty of Forestry, detailed data was recovered from the online awards database of UBC’s Office of Research Services. All awards attributed to the Faculty of Forestry for the period extending from 2002-2003 to 2006-2007 were extracted from the database, for a total of $59,682,707 in five years. Breaking down the funding by department, as shown in Table 12, reveals that the departments of Forest Sciences and Wood Science retain the largest share of the funding. Table 12 Research funding by department or unit of the Faculty of Forestry, 2002-2003 to 2006-2007 Department or Unit $ % Forest Resources Management 11,519,325 19.3 Forest Sciences 25,460,301 42.7 Wood Science 21,233,192 35.6 Applied Conservation Biology 620,656 10.4 Advanced Wood Processing 566,938 9.5 Research forests 282,295 4.7 Total 59,682,707 100.0 Furthermore, research funding in Forestry is somewhat concentrated in the hands of a small number of faculty members, which is not atypical. Two faculty members (Saddler and Lam) brought approximately $1 million a year during the period under observation, and 50 per cent of the entire Forestry research funding for the period is associated with only 12 faculty members. Nonetheless, there are 39 faculty members (approximately 60 per cent of all faculty members, including retired professors) who received at least $100,000 a year over the period. Finding appropriate categories to organize the data is difficult. For example, the Coast Forest and Lumber Association, an association that represents forest companies from Coastal B.C., is a not-for-profit organization just like the Gwaii Trust Society, yet it did not seem meaningful to lump them in the same category. I have thus decided to present the most important funding agencies and programs without amalgamation. 138 For the Faculty of Forestry as a whole, there are 12 funding agencies/programs that each account for more than $1 million for the five-year period. As shown in Table 13, government sources are most important, with Natural Resources Canada and the Forest Science Program (B.C. government) being the most important sources. NSERC is the most important funding agency, with over $12 million in contributions, however in the table below NSERC funding is broken down into its separate programs. Table 13 Agencies/programs contributing over $1 million in research funds to the Faculty of Forestry, 2002-2003 to 2006-2007 Agency / Program $ % Natural Resources Canada 5,752,223 9.6 Forest Science Program (B.C. gov.) 4,678,572 7.8 Discovery Grants (NSERC) 4,209,919 7.1 Strategic Projects (NSERC) 4,139,760 6.9 B.C. Ministry of Forests 3,754,338 6.3 Research (Networks of Centres of Excellence) 3,304,759 5.5 International Marketing Program (B.C. gov.) 3,016,640 5.1 Coast Forest and Lumber Association 1,807,613 3.0 Canada Research Chair Tier II (NSERC) 1,508,334 2.5 Strategic Network Grant (NSERC) 1,243,048 2.1 Mountain Pine Beetle Program (federal gov.) 1,034,115 1.7 Canada Research Chair Tier I (NSERC) 1,000,000 1.7 In all three departments, there is a wide gap between the average award and the median award, indicating that most of the resources come from a small number of programs and agencies. This is particularly true in the department of Forest Sciences, where the average award ($303,098) is almost six times the median award ($53,870) while in the other two departments the ratio is between 3 and 4. Table 14 lists the top-50 programs and agencies funding research in each department. There are a total of 70 programs and agencies funding research in Forest Resources Management, 84 in Forest Sciences, and 80 in Wood Science21. 21 Funding from the Canada Foundation for Innovation (CFI) seems to be identified with more than one label in the data provided by UBC’s Office of Research Services, including “Infrastructure Operating Fund.” 139 Table 14 Top 50 agencies/programs funding research in Forestry, by department, in dollars, 2002-2003 to 2006-2007 Forest Resources Management Forest Sciences Wood Science Research (Networks of Centres of Excellence) 1,649,786 Forest Science Program 3,703,031 Natural Resources Canada 3,863,060 Natural Resources Canada 1,025,385 British Columbia Ministry of Forests 2,811,491 Strategic Projects 2,163,809 British Columbia Ministry of Forests 942,847 Discovery Grants Program - Individual 1,989,884 Coast Forest and Lumber Association 1,807,613 Canadian matching funds 847,000 International Marketing Program 1,924,954 Discovery Grants Program - Individual 1,315,185 Forest Science Program 801,406 Strategic Projects 1,874,251 Mountain Pine Beetle Program 1,034,115 Discovery Grants Program – Individual 747,250 Strategic Network Grant 1,185,948 Canada Research Chair Tier II (NSERC) 850,000 International Marketing Program 718,343 Research (Networks of Centres of Excellence) 1,048,073 AgraSoL Inc. 838,000 Canadian Forest Products Ltd. 585,930 Canada Research Chair Tier I (NSERC) 1,000,000 International Energy Agency (US) 777,201 Woodflow Systems Corp. 316,350 Natural Resources Canada 863,778 US Department of Agriculture 657,830 Canada Research Chair Tier II (NSERC) 291,667 British Columbia Ministry of Sustainable Resource Management 855,000 Forintek Canada Corp. 578,834 Slocan Forest Products 266,000 Gwaii Trust Society 747,527 Research (Networks of Centres of Excellence) 566,900 Dean of Forestry 244,780 Various Sources 601,500 Ainsworth Lumber Co. Ltd. 472,127 British Columbia Knowledge Development Fund 218,000 Industrial Research Chairs – Regular 472,241 British Columbia Knowledge Development Fund 400,555 Collaborative Research and Development Grants - Project 198,020 British Columbia Ministry of Water, Land and Air Protection 373,460 International Environmental Institute 385,479 Standard Research Grants program 190,656 Canada Research Chair Tier II (NSERC) 366,667 UBC Blusson Fund 348,082 Forest Research Extension Partnership 190,500 Environment Canada 342,500 Forestry Innovation Investment Ltd. 334,415 Research Partnership Program 184,500 British Columbia Knowledge Development Fund 336,850 Dean of Forestry 321,905 140 British Columbia Ministry of Forests and Range 180,030 Donation 325,500 BIOCAP Canada Foundation 319,629 IISAAK Forest Resources Ltd. 158,190 BIOCAP Canada Foundation 322,005 Coast Forest Products Association 289,960 PP Systems Inc. 155,000 Dean of Forestry 312,046 Canada Research Chairs Infrastructure Fund 267,701 Canada Research Chairs Infrastructure Fund 117,999 Collaborative Research and Development Grants – Project 307,900 Infrastructure Operating Fund 260,449 Strategic Projects 101,700 International Forest Products Ltd. 277,064 Bruker Biospin Ltd. 253,740 New Opportunities 100,000 British Columbia Ministry of Forests and Range 264,900 International Marketing Program 223,524 Lignum Ltd. 87,920 Canada Research Chairs Infrastructure Fund 253,612 NSERC/CFS/SSHRC: Research Partnership Program 183,000 Environment Canada 86,436 British Columbia Ministry of Environment, Lands and Parks 210,000 Council of Forest Industries of British Columbia 178,529 Research Tools and Instruments - Category 1 76,200 Forest Genetics Council of British Columbia 182,000 Donation 152,506 Centre for International Forestry Research 75,025 Weyerhaeuser Canada Ltd. 178,188 New Opportunities 132,854 BIOCAP Canada Foundation 74,050 Research Tools and Instruments - Category 1 176,437 Huber Engineered Woods 124,787 Administration 61,875 Parks Canada Agency 166,102 BASF Aktiengesellschaft 124,003 International Environmental Institute 60,000 American Association for the Advancement of Science 148,464 Research Partnership Program 115,000 Forest Practices Board 59,000 British Columbia Hydro International Ltd. 134,937 NSERC/CIHR: Genomics Projects Competition 105,000 Aboriginal Research 57,801 Special Research Opportunity Program 109,249 Lignol Innovations Corp. 104,250 Forintek Canada Corp. 50,000 Western Forest Products Ltd. 104,363 Woodflow Systems Corp. 100,000 SSHRC/NSERC/CFS: Research Partnership Program 49,517 Research and Network Grants 103,016 PerkinElmer Life and Analytical Sciences 98,764 NSERC/CFS/SSHRC: Research Partnership Program 46,250 Johnson's Family Forest Biotechnology Fund 100,000 WQI Ltd. 96,255 Forest Trends Association 40,703 Weyerhaeuser Canada 100,000 TA Instruments Inc. 94,542 141 British Columbia Ministry of Water, Land and Air Protection 40,000 Canadian Forest Products Ltd. 95,725 Research Tools and Instruments - Category 1 85,968 Coast Information Team 37,433 Pacific Salmon Commission 90,720 Waters Ltd. 85,260 Future Generations 28,091 New Opportunities 83,238 Collaborative Research and Development Grants - Project 84,348 Exploratory Workshop Grant 25,000 Forestry Innovation Investment Research Program 74,358 Fraser Milner Casgrain LLP 82,810 Weyerhaeuser Canada Ltd. 25,000 GV Instruments Canada Ltd. 55,535 Cellfor Inc. 75,000 Parks Canada Agency 24,281 Slocan Forest Products 54,740 Norcon Forestry Ltd. 75,000 UBC Department of Forest Resources Management 20,697 Weyerhaeuser Co. Ltd. 53,000 British Columbia Wood 74,000 Weyerhaeuser Co. Ltd. 20,003 Washington State Natural Resources Agency 50,000 Chemical Specialties Inc. 67,274 British Columbia Ministry of Environment 20,000 Tembec Industries Inc. 41,992 Strategic Network Grant 57,100 Envision Sustainability Tools Inc. 19,250 Forintek Canada Corp. 40,000 International Forest Products Ltd. 50,271 UBC: Killam Faculty Research Fellowship 18,000 Government of Canada 36,148 US Department of Energy 45,386 Canadian Forest Service 15,000 Endangered Species Recovery Fund Research 32,872 Mandel Scientific Co. Inc. 39,512 Fisher Scientific 13,084 Fraser River Estuary Management Program 30,000 National Renewable Energy Lab 37,854 British Columbia Integrated Land Management Bureau 13,000 Discovery Grants Program - Northern Research Supplement 28,200 Hitachi High-Technologies Canada 37,000 142 The diversity of the funding sources, beyond the most important federal and provincial funding programs, is a striking characteristic of this faculty’s research funding profile, although one would need to compare Forestry’s situation to that of other units in the university to see whether this is common or unusual in the natural sciences. Nonetheless, the practical consequence of such diversity in the daily life of faculty members and staff – and in some cases of graduate students as well – is that, because each individual program and agency has its own requirements, forms, and agreements, the time and efforts invested by academics to gather their research funding have to be substantial. Researchers who benefit from large awards are not exempted. Jack Saddler and Frank Lam, for example, brought together respectively 32 and 38 different awards over the period of five years for which we have data in order to accumulate approximately $4 million (each) in research funding. For this period of five years, researchers receiving funds from more than 10 different awards were the norm rather than the exception, although some awards may be obtained from different sources but with a single proposal. It remains safe to say that the coordination efforts associated with research funding have to be an important aspect of researchers’ work. As Figure 5 indicated earlier, most of the funding currently is provided by federal and provincial government programs and agencies. NSERC Discovery Grants are an important source of funding, but by no means the most important one. Natural Resources Canada and the B.C. Forest Science Program, for example, both distribute funds through a process that considers the scientific merit of the projects and investigators, but within a set of priorities which are decided upon centrally through processes that usually involves more than just scientific stakeholders. Programs like NSERC’s Strategic Projects also favour researchers who can gather the support of partners beyond the academic realm, such as government agencies and private organizations, although the partners in this case do not have to 143 contribute monetarily. Large forest companies, such as Canadian Forest Products (Canfor), Ainsworth Lumber, and Weyerhaeuser are among the most important private contributors to research funding in Forestry, along with organizations supporting or representing the industry such as Coast Forest and Lumber Association and Forintek (now a part of FPInnovations). Few funding programs and agencies seem to stand outside of government and industry spheres. Among the few exceptions, one finds the Gwaii Trust Society, Forest Trends, Future Generations, and the Center for International Forestry Research (CIFOR). A total of 70 private organizations (excluding industrial associations) were identified among the contributors to Forestry’s research funding. While, even aggregated, they may not contribute as much as, for instance, the provincial government, they represent a significant source of economic capital supporting research and, perhaps more significantly, an important source of social capital which may be legitimating the research work of Forestry in industrial circles. Such associations also are necessary conditions to other grants and awards. To make further sense of Forestry’s sources and volume of research funding, I have used data from UBC’s Planning and Institutional Research Office for 200622. This dataset allows me to locate Forestry within the university as a whole and to compare its capital to that of other units. Based on its demographic weight compared to the entire student population of UBC, Forestry placed 11th of 23 top-level units in 2006. It had, however, a slightly higher ratio of graduate to undergraduate students, placing the Faculty 8th within UBC. It also had more faculty members, with 52 full-time equivalent professors of any rank (excluding emeriti), 22 The number of top-level units changed in 2007 and 2008 following the integration of the School of Nursing into the Faculty of Applied Sciences and the disappearance of the School of Social Work. The last year for which there is a complete and reliable set of data available from PAIR’s web site is 2006. The Faculty of Graduate Studies has been excluded from the data of PAIR’s data due to its different role in the institution. The College of Health Disciplines was also excluded because, as of 2006, it remained in development, having only two faculty members but significant research funding. 144 lecturers, and instructors. Based on those numbers, Faculty of Forestry faculty members each obtained, in 2006, $22,519 on average in research funding. As we can see in Table 15, this places Forestry in second position, behind only Medicine as far as research funding per faculty member is concerned. When considering only Tri-Council (CIHR, NSERC, and SSHRC) dollars, Forestry came fifth for total dollars as well as for Tri-Council dollars per faculty member. With $51,806 in Tri-Council funding per faculty member, Forestry remains outperformed by Pharmaceutical Sciences ($52,680), Science ($75,851), Applied Sciences ($77,519) and Medicine ($100,837). Except for Applied Sciences, those faculties rank highly on the scale of CIHR funding, which largely explains the difference with Forestry. In 2006, 77 per cent of the Faculty of Forestry’s research funding came from non-Tri- Council sources, a proportion that is only exceeded by Architecture and Landscape Architecture and Journalism. Even in Applied Sciences, only 45 per cent of the research funding arose from non-Tri-Council sources. In Medicine, however, the proportion is similar to that of Forestry, at 71 per cent. For non-Tri-Council research funding, only Medicine faculty members, with $222,124 on average, surpassed Forestry faculty members, who each secured $170,713 on average from non-Tri-Council sources. 145 Table 15 Research funding at the University of British Columbia, per top-level unit, in dollars, 2006 Department T o t a l N o f F a c u l t y m e m b e r s S u m o f N S E R C D o l l a r s S u m o f T o t a l T r i - C o u n c i l D o l l a r s T r i - C o u n c i l $ p e r F a c u l t y N o n - T r i - C o u n c i l D o l l a r s N o n - T r i - C o u n c i l D o l l a r s p e r f a c u l t y m e m b e r T o t a l o f R e s e a r c h F u n d i n g T o t a l R e s e a r c h f u n d i n g p e r f a c u l t y m e m b e r Applied Sciences 163 12 435 553 12 635 676 77 519 10 465 013 64 203 23 100 689 141 722 Arch and LS Arch 21 - 32 762 1 560 459 422 21 877 492 184 23 437 Arts 410 1 526 014 8 292 102 20 225 11 170 295 27 245 19 462 397 47 469 Audiology & Speech Office 7 26 000 120 434 17 205 174 200 24 886 294 634 42 091 Commerce 97 784 850 1 909 177 19 682 1 474 530 15 201 3 383 707 34 884 Dentistry 33 42 600 1 661 748 50 356 2 001 394 60 648 3 663 142 111 004 Education 141 40 000 1 633 015 11 582 1 869 485 13 259 3 502 500 24 840 Forestry 52 2 634 596 2 693 908 51 806 8 877 057 170 713 11 570 965 222 519 Human Kinetics 25 212 231 500 293 20 012 727 554 29 102 1 227 847 49 114 Journalism 4 - - - 23 000 5 750 23 000 5 750 Land and Food Systems 43 1 568 544 1 886 752 43 878 2 879 432 66 964 4 766 185 110 842 Law 40 - 345 904 8 648 426 866 10 672 772 770 19 319 Library,Arch.Info.St 11 - 20 000 1 818 27 081 2 462 47 081 4 280 Medicine 505 1 156 614 50 922 865 100 837 112 172 714 222 124 163 095 578 322 962 Music 29 - 63 816 2 201 15 500 534 79 316 2 735 Nursing 45 - 1 877 715 41 727 1 635 934 36 354 3 513 649 78 081 Pharmaceutical Sciences 36 109 810 1 896 498 52 680 4 713 021 130 917 6 609 519 183 598 Rehab Sciences 17 - - - Scarp-Plan 11 - 148 672 13 516 108 654 9 878 257 326 23 393 Science 373 23 472 440 28 292 268 75 851 28 376 661 76 077 56 668 930 151 927 Social Work & Family Studies 22 - 306 459 13 930 232 968 10 589 539 427 24 519 146 In 1980, a President review could criticize Forestry’s poor research standing and in particular its apparent inability to secure funding from NSERC (Smith, 1990). This is no longer the case as of 2006. Compared to their peers within UBC, Forestry faculty members secure a fair share of funding from specifically scientific sources (such as NSERC) at the same time as funding from other sources. The reliance of Forestry faculty members on non- Tri-Council sources of funding for its research activities may at once be a blessing and a curse. With such a diversified funding base, Forestry researchers are less dependent than their colleagues of Science and Applied Sciences on the fortunes of a single federal government program. On the other hand, it makes some of Forestry’s activities dependent upon the health of the economy as a whole, as the sums that the forest sector is likely to invest in university research usually shrink during periods of financial turbulence. Moreover, a large part of the provincial funding for research comes from stumpage revenues, which are prone to dramatic fluctuations. Sudden growth of the forest industry due, for example, to a change in trade relations between Canada and the United States can bring rapid growth to the Faculty of Forestry, as was experienced with the Forest Renewal B.C. program. While the chairs’ endowment remains today, albeit contracted by poor returns and by the global crisis of the financial market, the rest of the FRBC program was shut down without much prior notice, severely curtailing research activities and, as we will see later in this chapter, causing a sharp decrease in Forestry’s capacity to support graduate students. At the time of writing this dissertation, there are signs that the Forest Science Program, which was recently bringing as much as one million a year in research funds, is going to be deeply transformed. It is even unclear whether the provincial government will distribute the funds that were granted in multi-year awards. Such uncertainty seems to be a feature of forest research in British Columbia, and occasionally jeopardizes the Faculty of Forestry’s capacity to maintain some of its research activities and to financially support graduate students. 147 In the past and present, the provincial and federal governments have sought to stimulate forest-related research when the industry’s business hit cyclical lows or other structural difficulties. Were such difficulties, which currently reach historic levels, to persist in the long term instead of being replaced by a new upward phase, and governments to lose faith in their capacity to earn revenue from forests and the taxation of forest workers, the Faculty of Forestry would likely become challenged to again redefine its funding base. The relatively generous flows of research funding into Forestry are first and foremost perceived as economic capital. They represent, however, much more than that, as funding also incorporates social, cultural, and symbolic capital. Research funds, with the exception of Tri-Council dollars intended for curiosity-driven, “discovery” research, incorporate social relations with other academic and also non-academic agents who are called upon to support the research proposals submitted by faculty members or, on occasion, approach researchers themselves with their problems. As we have seen, Forestry does not necessarily receive large amounts of private funding, but it comes from an extended network of companies and organizations, most of which are industrial. Such social relations are also a vehicle for cultural capital, such as research problems, resources that are used or borrowed by researchers for their work (equipment, land, chemicals, etc.), and operational knowledge. The symbolic capital attached to research funding also cannot be neglected, although its currency can only be assessed in relation to a specific field. In the strictly defined scientific field, capital – whatever its form – coming from organizations and agents for which the primary stakes are not those of the scientific field may be worthless, or even may lessen the value of the cultural production that results from the use of such non-scientific resources. On the other hand, for agents in the forest sector, seeing industrial actors supporting research activities might increase the currency of the resulting research. 148 Discussion Forest research in British Columbia developed in three different institutional locations at approximately the same period: in the 1920s, a department of Forestry was created at the University of British Columbia, the federal government created the Western Forest Products Laboratory to serve industry, and a research branch was developed within the provincial forest service. The necessary momentum for the creation of a corps of researchers who would work on forest problems, but remain one or more steps removed from day-to-day forest operations, was provided by a two-sided realization: that timber could provide abundant wealth to the population of British Columbia and support the development of its infrastructure, but that the province would have to manage its assets more wisely to provide long-term revenues. The data presented in this chapter has shown that UBC Forestry, the B.C. Ministry of Forests, and FPInnovations, which is the inheritor of the WFPL, despite the differences inherent to their organizational specificity, remain related today. There are some reasons to believe that, along with the Pacific Forestry Centre of the Canadian Forest Service23, they form the provincial field of forest research, and belong to a broader, worldwide network of organizations which share a common concern for research on forests. While they may have interests in common, the organizations located within the field of forest research are also shaped by the dynamics of their respective organizational setting. In the case of the Faculty of Forestry, belonging to a university entails responsibilities relative to the education of students as well as some specific expectations with regards to research funding and scientific production which makes work in universities different, to some degree, from work in government or industry. One of the particularities of universities 23 Few private companies in British Columbia still conduct forest research. 149 in the field of forest research is that they are responsible for the training of all researchers, including those who will eventually find employment in the private or public sector. How autonomous is the Faculty of Forestry in setting the conditions in which it will train graduate students to become researchers? The data we have presented in this chapter reveals that Forestry researchers and graduate students are located in a space which is, to some degree, shaped by forces beyond its reach, but there are also hints that they might be, in return, shaping the social space beyond the boundaries of the Faculty. The heteronomy of the Faculty of Forestry as a research training environment arises mostly from the sources of funding that are mobilized to support research activities, including the salaries of graduate students as research assistants. As we have seen, individual “Discovery” grants from NSERC are an important source of funding, but they represent only 7 per cent of the total research funding for Forestry research activities, and barely 11 per cent even when including funding from the Canada Research Chairs program. Nearly all of the other sources of funding on which Forestry faculty members depend to conduct their research are, in some way, “strategic,” in that they are more or less closely tied to the priorities and objectives of stakeholders from the policy and/or industrial spheres. As we will see later, the degree of freedom of researchers in the execution of such research varies, and in most cases it can hardly be said that those priorities are forced onto them. In fact, the next chapter will explore how some Forestry researchers may be active participants in the elaboration of such priorities and contributing to shaping the demand for strategic research. The Faculty of Forestry publicly presents itself as embracing, not resisting, problems that emerge beyond the field of research itself. Through its web site, its Branchlines newsletter, and its events, such as the faculty-wide seminars and the Celebrate Research Week activities, Forestry shows a concern for problems that matter for political, economic, 150 environmental, or social reasons. The problem may have been translated into terms which are understandable within the boundaries of a discipline, allowing for the publication of articles beyond forest-specific journals. Yet, the stakes remain recognizable to outside, non-academic agents who may have an interest in the resolution of the problem, and who occasionally collaborate with academic researchers, as evidenced by their signature alongside that of Forestry faculty members on peer-reviewed articles. The problems may even be accessible to the general public, and suitable for discussion in mainstream newspaper articles. The position of researchers in the UBC Faculty of Forestry is neither that of an entirely autonomous scientific community of forest researchers setting its own research priorities without regard for the issues affecting the forest sector more broadly, nor that of a valet to the combined interests of government and industry.24 Rather, university forest researchers might be carving a space for themselves in which currency from the scientific field and from the forest sector can be combined to improve their position within the field of forest research. The programs that directly or indirectly support graduate student involvement in research partnerships with non-academic organizations, which I have described in chapter 2, were conceptualized as heteronomous layers added to attempt to re-shape the traditional scientific training of graduate students to research. In the case of the heteronomous field of forest research, however, would the entire research-training environment be of a different shape? I will explore this possibility empirically in the next two chapters, first by examining who are the agents involved in the reproduction of forest researchers in the Faculty of 24 In fact, in the case of the forest sector, policy-makers can very well be considered to be part of industry, as the provincial government has a direct interest – due to stumpage and taxation revenues – in the health of forest companies. 151 Forestry in chapter 5, and then by analyzing the position-takings and trajectories of the graduate students themselves in chapter 6. 152 CHAPTER 5 LIFE BEFORE FORESTRY Before I started fieldwork in UBC’S Faculty of Forestry, in the spring and summer of 2007, I went through what more experienced researchers will probably recognize as a typical case of “field fright.” Having conducted dozens of interviews in the context of previous research projects, I was already familiar with the milder condition I call “interview fright.” In the latter, the interviewer, as she waits for the next participant to arrive, secretly and shamefully hopes for a no-show that would save her from having to ask questions to a stranger about his or her life. Field fright, because of the higher stakes implied by multiple months of regular contact with a community of informants, lends itself to more anxiety- generating questions. What if I can’t create rapport with key informants? What if I unwittingly land in the middle of an ongoing power struggle? What if they collectively turn against me? Will I embarrass (or even endanger!) myself with a lack of outdoors skills? I inventoried possible problems and brainstormed reasonable ways to respond if my work was challenged. I read books about how informants talk back to researchers. I wrote and rewrote the details of my procedures on the ethics review forms. I knew I had gone too far in planning for the worst – and perhaps overly impressed by the sharpness of some wood-working tools – when the Behavioural Research Ethics Board advised me to “consider the legal implications of research that could jeopardize the safety of the participants by something as trivial as the observer not remaining quiet.” Forty-five interviews and many hours of observation later, I am glad to report that no graduate student fell into a veneer peeling lathe as result of my study. I even came through as helpful in the forest one time. When meeting new people and describing my research objectives – which to me were obviously different from those of the researchers and students I spoke with – I was often asked who in Forestry supervised me. To 153 many, I must have looked just like any other Forestry graduate student. On the other hand, the lack of drama resulting from my presence in the field was somehow disappointing at first: did I “go native” too easily? Did I miss something? As I analyzed the material collected and wrote successive versions of this dissertation, I came to realize that the fact that I did not experience an outsider clash, or even just mild resistance, as a social scientist in the Faculty of Forestry was actually a finding. I already pointed out in my discussion of Forestry’s faculty research seminars in the previous chapter that I never witnessed anyone or anything being challenged for failing to belong, and myself or my work were no exception. Of course, certain individuals may have entertained silent thoughts about the silliness of my research questions, or about the relevance of one of their colleague’s research interests. Nevertheless, the fact that over 18 months I have not directly or even indirectly encountered such open criticisms (of myself or others) indicates that the definition of who belongs to Forestry is a broad one. If anything, I heard that the focus of forest research should be broader and make more room for problems that emerged in the wider world. In this chapter, I will introduce the individual agents who are most directly involved in the reproduction of the field of forest research: the faculty members of the Faculty of Forestry and their research students. Among the faculty members, a special category – the adjunct professors – will be presented in some detail, as they represent a priori an obvious source of heteronomy in the training of graduate students. As I describe the career trajectories and previous experiences of those forest researchers, established and in-training, it will become increasingly clear that what the inclusion criteria defining who and what belongs to the Faculty of Forestry and thus to forest research is very wide. Furthermore, I will show that agents come to Forestry with a mix of capital accumulated in the scientific field and in the 154 forest sector, which then form the base on which their forest research habitus will further develop. There is not a single right balance of the two types of capital. Instead, the multitude of possible combinations of the two further increases the diversity within Forestry and in the broader field of forest research. Faculty members Profile of the Forestry faculty body In 2007-2008, according to UBC’s Planning and Institutional Research office data, the Faculty of Forestry had 51 full-time equivalent faculty members, which represents 2.4 per cent of UBC’s total number of faculty members (2,152). The only smaller faculties were Dentistry, Land and Food Systems, Law, and Pharmaceutical Sciences. However, a headcount based on the Faculty of Forestry’s 2007 annual report (covering the 2007-2008 academic year) shown in Table 16 reveals that there are 62 individuals at one of the following ranks: assistant, associate, or full professor, lecturer, and instructor. The difference between the number of full-time equivalent faculty members and the headcount is explained by the fact that one’s professor’s appointment is supported by the Canadian Wildlife Service while others are jointly appointed with other departments within UBC. Two are jointly appointed with Civil Engineering, two with Geography, one with the Institute for Resources, Environment, and Sustainability, four with the Faculty of Land and Food Systems, one with Landscape Architecture, one with Mechanical Engineering, one with the Michael Smith Laboratories and Botany, and one with Sociology. There are very few women among the faculty members in Forestry. As shown in Table 16, slightly more than a third of faculty members in the department of Forest Sciences are women but in Forest Resources Management and Wood Science there are respectively only one and two women. They are scattered at all ranks among the professoriate. The UBC 155 Planning and Institutional Research office, because it considers only full-time faculty members in establishing the proportion of women in the Faculty of Forestry, arrives at an even lower tally, with only 15.7 per cent women. This count makes Forestry the faculty with the lowest proportion of women on campus, although the Sauder School of Business, with only 17.2 per cent, is a close second. Table 16 Male and female faculty members in the UBC Faculty of Forestry, by department, 2007-2008 Department Forest Resources Management Forest Sciences Wood Science Total Position F M F M F M F M Instructor, Lecturer or other 1 1 1 2 1 4 Assistant professor 5 2 1 3 5 Associate professor 7 2 3 6 2 16 Full professor 1 9 3 10 1 7 5 26 Total 1 22 8 14 2 15 11 51 Source: 2007 Annual Report, Faculty of Forestry Table 17 Country of Ph.D. of UBC Forestry faculty members, by department Country of Ph.D. Forest Resources Management Forest Sciences Wood Science Total Canada (UBC) 8 (5) 14 (9) 6 (4) 28 (18) USA 9 6 3 18 UK 3 1 3 7 Europe 1 1 2 4 Australia /New Zealand 1 0 1 2 No PhD 1 0 2 3 Total 23 22 17 62 Source: 2007 Annual Report, UBC Faculty of Forestry Consistent with the generally recognized requirement for faculty members across universities in North America, all regular faculty members, except those holding instructor positions, have a Ph.D., which they have received sometime between 1970 and 2003. Table 17 shows the distribution of faculty members based on the country of their Ph.D. Almost half 156 were earned in Canadian universities, and of those 18 were from UBC, making its faculty body approximately 30 per cent inbred25, although not all of those who received their Ph.D. at UBC did so in the Faculty of Forestry. Faculty members who did not earn a Ph.D. in Canada did so in the United States (18), in a country of the Commonwealth (seven in the United Kingdom, one in New Zealand, and one in Australia), or in Europe (France, Germany, and Switzerland). The country of Ph.D. on its own is a limited indicator of diversity, as it reflects only one stage, albeit an important one, of a researcher’s socialization. Nevertheless, the fact that half of Forestry’s faculty members were at least partially foreign-trained increases the distance between those forest researchers and the province’s forest sector, which is more anchored in the immediate geographic area due to ecosystem-specific constraints. To capture the diversity of scientific expertise present in Forestry, I used the online profiles of faculty members posted on Forestry’s web site. The posted profiles were integrated into the qualitative database and coded to identify clusters of themes. The profiles of emeriti faculty members were included for the purposes of this analysis, yielding a total of 69 profiles. Table 18 presents the clusters of themes. 25 There is no definitive study assessing the proportion of faculty members who obtained their Ph.D. from the institution that employs them, but 10 to 20 per cent seems like a reasonable estimate to many. Professional schools (law, medicine) are thought to have a higher proportion of inbred faculty members. At 30 per cent, Forestry would be on the higher side, but not particularly exceptional. 157 Table 18 Clusters of themes observed in UBC Forestry faculty members’ profiles Cluster (number of mentions) Examples of themes Disciplines (43) Biology and variants; Engineering; Economics and variants; Physics. Values (18) Conservation; Sustainability; Quality. Products of the forest (17) Wood; Wood products; Materials; Forest products; Timber. Forest management (12) Forest management; Silviculture; Measurement; Nutrition. Methods and techniques (12) Modeling; Visualization; Planning; Biometrics. Forests for production (6) Forest operations; Forest inventory; Logging; Growth and yield. Object of research other than tree-specific (6) Birds, Mammals, Fish, Wildlife, Plants Policy (5) Forest policy; Environmental policy; Governance. Business (4) Globalization; Commerce; Trade; Economic development. People (3) Public participation; Public perception; Aboriginal; Communications. Scale of study (16) Landscape, Stand, Ecosystem. The focus of most faculty members implies human intervention in the forest or some other related part of the environment, or use of the forest’s products by humans. In some cases, the purpose of research is to improve aspects of timber harvesting procedures through research (and possible intervention) at the pre-harvesting, operations, and post-harvesting stages. In other cases, the focus is on the transformation of forest products – wood in particular – and on the use of the resulting wealth. “Forest management” is often mentioned, although the aims of management activities are usually left implicit. Indeed, the goals of management can be varied: whereas “managing for timber” might have been the first meaning of the expression, one can now manage the forest to improve wildlife habitat, or to increase the yield of other forest products such as mushrooms for example. What is clear (and probably obvious to those in the field) is that humans can – and must – intervene in forests with the goal of improving them, and that intervention should benefit humans, or at least prevent losses. Some faculty members’ research interests show a specific concern for “conservation,” which implies an ethical commitment to slow down or halt the loss of biological diversity, 158 especially that caused by humans. Again, this implies that humans can and/or have to somehow intervene to reach some goals. In itself, conservation is not incompatible with human wealth, and actually it is often argued that it is necessary to wealth. However, one can easily imagine that tensions can emerge between conservation goals and production goals, tensions which one could expect to see reflected in the everyday research work of forest researchers. Whether researchers describe their research interests in the vocabulary of production or conservation, it remains remarkable that the research problems they mention in their profiles are, for the most part, easy to understand from a non-scientist’s point of view. The problems Forestry faculty members tackle are connected to values and problems located outside of the narrowly-defined scientific field and recognizable as such. This observation does not take away from the complexity of Forestry’s research problems. In fact, an often- heard Forestry saying goes like this: “Forestry is not rocket science. It’s a lot more complicated!” What it does mean, however, is that problems are not translated in scientific terms beyond the point of recognition by non-researchers and laypersons. This does not mean that Forestry faculty members are unable to speak in scien
UBC Theses and Dissertations
The outside within : heteronomy in the training of forest researchers Gemme, Brigitte 2009
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