When universities link up with institutions abroad, they can get more than they bargained for. Matthew Chapman reports.
When it comes to promoting their courses, United States higher education institutions have a thing or two to teach the British about promotion. "Ten free sermons when you enrol in any course!" screams the banner splashed on one of the websites run by Trinity College and Theological Seminary.
Trinity is a brash fundamentalist institution based in Indiana that claims to be a world leader in the field of distance education, with 9,000 students taking a whole range of theologically based courses. But one thing it has always lacked throughout its 30-year history is any form of official recognition for its courses.
That gap in its academic credentials was, however, filled four years ago by the University of Liverpool, which responded to an approach by Trinity to accredit its degrees. The Trinity-Liverpool link has, however, left many interested in higher education, particularly in the US, scratching their heads.
Why should a British university with no theology department want to link its reputation to a Bible college whose degrees are not recognised by any US government-approved organisation? The relationship between the two perhaps exemplifies the benefits and risks involved when British universities decide to go down the route of effectively giving a stamp of approval to the quality of departments or courses offered by institutions in some cases thousands of miles away.
Dozens of universities are willing to take the risk and the number of students studying on United Kingdom-accredited courses overseas has risen from 23,000 in 1994 to 26,200 in 1998.
For years, the benefits were unquestioned by all involved: UKuniversities got hard cash from validation and accreditation fees; the Department of Trade and Industry trumpeted these commercial links; and the Department for Education and Employment praised the export of British educational values overseas.
But some in higher education claim to be noticing a change. "Increasingly, universities are questioning whether it's really worth it," says one source at the Quality Assurance Agency, which audits these links. "A lot of them are finding it more costly in terms of money and reputation than they expected and they're pulling out."
The benefits to Trinity College and Theological Seminary are unquestionable. The college is happy because it has succeeded with Liverpool University where it has failed in the United States. Trinity is not recognised by any of the six accreditation agencies approved by the US Department of Education. It has instead hooked up with an unofficial accreditation agency called the National Association of Private Non-Traditional Schools and Colleges that in years has gathered only four members, among them a San Francisco-based "school of sexology".
The Trinity link-up caused Liverpool University more embarrassment last year when the Indiana college became embroiled in a plagiarism scandal. Trinity provides most of its course work on audio cassette and a particularly attentive student thought he recognised something familiar about certain readings on his tapes. He discovered they had been culled, without attribution, from established textbooks. Trinity claimed the whole thing was the result of a technical hitch and that after constant re-recording the attributions had been accidentally cut off the end.
If that was not enough to cause a few grey hairs at Liverpool, then the religious teachings of the most prestigious member of Trinity's teaching staff are conservative to say the least. Trinity used to provide a videotape on its website of a certain Walter Witty, founder of their adjunct faculty, in which he sold the virtues of the college. Dr Witty, a noted fundamentalist preacher, tells readers of his personal website that sexually promiscuous women ought to be called "whores", sexually active men are "whore-mongers" and abortion is "child murder". A few weeks after I questioned Liverpool about Dr Witty, the video was dropped from the Trinity website.
Liverpool is unapologetic about its relationship with Trinity and claims to have been rigorous in its procedures when setting up the link. "From our point of view, the issue for us is whether we are recognising something that stands up to the quality audit procedures at the same level as those of audits of our own offerings here at Liverpool," says pro vice-chancellor Peter Goodhew. "If they do, as is the case with Trinity, then there is nothing wrong in us offering that assurance to worldwide students who wish to take their particular degrees."
Professor Goodhew added that, following their own investigations, Liverpool was satisfied that the plagiarism allegations were down to a technical hitch that had been corrected. As to Dr Witty's preachings, he says they were nothing but his personal opinions which Liverpool is satisfied are not reflected in the syllabus.
Professor Goodhew says Liverpool had gained from Trinity's experience as a world leader in distance education. "It's something we have been considering entering into and they have a lot to teach us," he says.
There is no doubt that one of the reasons universities go in for these alliances is because they make money. Liverpool was unwilling to say exactly how much it makes from the relationship, except to say that they "obviously made a profit". You can make a crude calculation if you consider the fact that Liverpool gets the $250 dollars that Trinity charges each student for an accredited degree. With more than 2,000 graduates so far with Liverpool-approved degrees, that makes more than $500,000 (?345,000).
While Liverpool has been totally open about its relationship with Trinity, several other universities forging alliances elsewhere in the world have been more secretive. The QAA recently organised a trip to China to check validated courses there.
Having called on all British higher education institutions to come forward if they had any dealings in China, the team set off with what they thought was a definitive list of nine to look at.
Nicola Channon, head of operations in the institutional review department at the QAA, says: "It became very obvious soon after we arrived that some people in Britain hadn't been telling us quite everything."
Chinese officials began to approach them with queries about link-ups they had never heard of. "It was very disappointing when we were over there saying to these people 'look, you can trust the British product and we can ensure that quality will always be high'. We get there and instead we find ourselves in a situation where we have to bluff our way around. It really wasn't a help," Ms Channon says.
The charitable explanation for this lack of candour on the part of some British universities is that they did not realise their link-up was sufficiently formal to notify the QAA.
A few cases aside, the vast majority of the dozens of relationships being forged around the world, from Malaysia to South Africa, are born out of a genuine desire to share knowledge and gain experience of operating in a market where students no longer feel restricted by national boundaries. If, however, a university is hoping that it is going to make a lot of money in the process, then it will be disappointed.
"Most of the universities we look at genuinely want to enrich their own syllabus and broaden the experience of their staff," Ms Channon says.
She warns that they can soon find the costs make the exercise uneconomic. "It only takes one student to complain to set off a complicated and costly investigation process which will wipe out any possible profits. You don't go into this sort of thing to make money."
Having jumped through the hoops of endless visits to check the quality of teaching at partner institutions, and having painstakingly built up some common approaches to examination techniques, operating in a foreign land with a strange language can always throw up unexpected pitfalls. A British university recently approached its Chinese partner and got into negotiations about a marketing strategy to raise the profile of its courses. "What we need is a mailshot," said the man from Britain. "Yes", agreed his Chinese counterpart and went away to get it going. A few weeks later they met up again and the Briton asked how the campaign had gone. "Very well," came the reply, "But I'm a little puzzled as to why we only contacted males."