The Quest
for University Research: Policies and Research Organization in Latin America
Simon Schwartzman
Published in Björn Wittrock and Aant Elzinga, editors,
The University Research System - The Public Policies of the Home of
Scientists, Stockholm, Almqvist & Wiksell International, 1985,
chapter 6, pp. 101-116.
Established Assumptions and New Realities
No one seriously disputes that the major universities in Western Europe
and the United States are privileged locations for scientific research.
To an external observer, the present debate on the role, extension and nature
of university research in these countries - the extent of external influence,
the relationships between scientific and nonscientific traditions, the interplay
between research, graduate education and undergraduate education, the problems
of linkage between university and industry, etc. - is basically concerned
with the fine-tuning of an otherwise sound and firmly entrenched research
and educational establishment.
A broader historical and geographical perspective, however, shows that what
would seem to be a natural interrelationship is in fact quite unusual. In
other times and societies, higher education and scientific research have
quite often been unrelated to each other; and even in Western Europe and
the United States, a significant amount of scientific research is carried
on outside of the universities, while most of the higher education institutions
(whether operating under the name of "university" or not) are involved in
very little or no research at all.
The often problematic relationship between scientific research and institutions
of higher education is fairly obvious for those who follow the attempt to
build up modern universities in societies without solid academic traditions
or the problems faced by traditional and well-established universities in
the context of rapidly expanding systems of higher education. The larger
Latin American countries - Brazil, Mexico, Argentina, Venezuela, Chile -
have faced these two problems simultaneously during the past decades.(1)
Their institutions of higher education, previously open only to the heirs
of the small elites in these countries, have rapidly evolved into large
systems of mass education with hundreds of thousands of students. At the
same time, a very limited tradition of scientific research in a few isolated
institutions have given way to complex structures of science policy and
administration and to fairly large networks of laboratories, research centers
and graduate programs. During this process, new organizational structures
have been superimposed on old ones, and new groups, without any previous
experience with science or higher education, have been engaged in these
activities - teachers, administrators, planners.
These events are obviously important in themselves. At the same time, they
may have some heuristic value in understanding the realities of the more
advanced and stable systems of university research and higher education
for at least two reasons. First, they provide the observer with a range
of differences and alternatives in social values and organizational arrangements
which reveal that the value assumptions taken for granted in Western culture
concerning the nature of education, research and organizational behavior
are only a very limited subset of a much larger array of possibilities.
And second, they call attention to the fact that, at its roots, institutions
of higher education and scientific research are essentially the products
of purposive social action - that, in order to understand their potentialities
and predicaments, one should go beyond the facade of their institutional
arrangements and into the motivations and value orientations of the actors
involved.
The changes in social motivation in relation to higher education in Latin
America are related to the staggering differences in wages between uneducated
and university trained people in these countries. In fact, it is not unusual
in this region for a university-trained person to earn a salary which is
twenty or more times that of an unskilled worker. These differences in salary
mean that not only is the unskilled laborer poorer, but he also lives in
a completely different social milieu, one in which life is structured on
the basis of very little money and without access to the basic stability,
amenities and consumption patterns of the modern sectors of his own society.
Wage differentials reflect not only different market values of skills, but
also unequal opportunities for access to different social positions (what
economists have called "segmented labor markets"). In the past, when the
number of highly educated people was very small, there was little difference
between the privileges accorded the educated and those which characterized
the social strata which supplied the hulk of students in higher education
institutions. As these societies became more urbanized and industrialized
demand for access to this privileged position through education increased.
At the same time, more highly paying social positions were being created
and for many years educational achievement became an effective ladder for
social mobility.
This is the background against which one should understand the enormous
pressure that transformed the Latin American scene and led to the massive
expansion of its systems of higher education in the last decades(2).
There were at least two points of resistance to this trend. First there
was generally very little capacity for expanding the systems of higher education
in accordance with demand without substantial declines in quality. There
were simply not enough teachers, laboratories or classrooms of sufficient
quality and not enough money to provide them quickly enough. And second,
there was a more or less diffuse perception that the privileges granted
to the highly educated were dependent on keeping their numbers small. It
is not surprising, therefore, that resistance to the expansion of higher
education came mostly from among the well educated, who referred to the
values of good academic standards and professional competence.
This resistance was, however, easily overpowered by a greater trend. For
those entering an expanding educational system from below, a lower quality
of education in a slightly more competitive labor market probably entailed
somewhat fewer privileges than the older generation had, but still a substantial
gain. This was combined with a questioning of the real value of the education
provided by the traditional schools and universities. They were deemed to
be too elitist, not very practical, not open enough to the new social realities,
not attuned to the needs of the changing labor market, too backward scientifically.
Some of these criticisms were inconsistent with each other; this suggests
that they came from a rather broad spectrum of social groups and interests
which joined forces to open the gates of the old universities. In this process,
most of the assumptions that existed about the daily life of more stable
educational systems came into question - the general importance of higher
education for society, the standards of quality for teaching and scholarship,
the role of professors and students in academic and administrative life,
the decision-making mechanisms in all areas. This challenge to previous
assumptions was particularly evident in the Brazilian higher education reform
of 1968, which was an attempt to reorganize the country's universities along
the American departmental model.
Scientists have been a very active and influential group in the transformations
described above. Whenever they could, they became active propagandists for
higher education in general amid spread the notion that scientific education
should be a central component of its expansion. They tended to express the
view that a national policy for scientific and technological development
was essential if their countries were to reach the levels of development
of the more advanced, northern societies. How they came to play this role
and their relationships with other groups involved in the same process of
social change is the subject of the following sections.
Scientists in Their Traditional Role
The Latin American countries do not have a tradition of research universities.
Scientific research in these countries, when it existed, tended to be concentrated
to a few, isolated institutions: museums, observatories, agricultural research
centers and some of their best schools of medicine. The Latin American universities
in this century can be roughly characterized as displaying two features:
first, a structure of quasi-independent "faculties" in the French sense,
i.e., schools that have the authority, or faculty, to provide legally binding
diplomas for the professions, and, second, the status of publicly supported
corporations, with a significant ability to withstand external pressures
and control.
Power and influence tended to be concentrated at the faculties, and not
at the level of the chancellor or of individual institutes, departments
or subdivisions of any kind. Decision-making usually included intense participation
of professors, and often of students and alumni when a country's political
climate allowed for it (this was the traditional tripartite system of "co-gobierno").
The important role played by professors did not necessarily mean that disciplinary
commitments were as important in this system as they are in the "master
matrix" that Burton Clark so well describes for the research universities
in the developed countries, given the weakness of the local scientific communities(3).
The nomination of a university chancellor (or "reitor") was usually decided
on the highest political level of the country, but often based on lists
drawn up by the collegial boards of the universities. There were, of course,
many variations on and deviations from this pattern: Catholic universities,
private institutions, technical schools related to the armed forces and
some branches of the civil service, and so on. In general, however, they
tended to copy or to drift towards the "faculty" system described above.
Scientific research first entered this system as individual scholarship.
Admission and promotion to the different degrees of professorship often
required a public exam and the presentation of a thesis. A doctoral degree
was usually the first step in a professorial career, followed by others
(associate professor, "livre-docente," "catedrático") which were associated
with specific academic privileges and salaries. This was clearly an adoption
of the traditional European pattern, but the probity and quality of this
kind of merit system varied significantly from country to country and from
faculty to faculty. At best, it created the conditions for individual scholarship,
the production of a few erudite pieces of work, but not for a real tradition
of continuous professional research. In the absence of well-equipped laboratories,
libraries and research funds, scientists had to be fairly affluent to cover
their own expenses. Personal resources were also necessary to travel abroad
and maintain contact with scientists in more developed centers. As a consequence,
university research tended to be, above all, the cultivated habit of a small
elite. For them, conducting research was a characteristic of a civilized
society, as important as playing good music and writing good literature.
A second channel for university research was the technical laboratories
associated with the schools of engineering and, in particular, medicine.
Improvements in the quality of medical teaching in some Latin American medical
schools have led to the development of full-time professorships, the organization
of university hospitals, the creation of specific research groups within
the medical schools, and so on. This type of medical research has sometimes
been of fairly high quality. Within the medical schools, however, it tended
to be secondary to professional education and clinical practice and could
not expand beyond certain limits.
The introduction of research through the traditional professional schools
was often the result of technical assistance received from the more advanced
countries or of professional and scientific training obtained by individuals
abroad. In Brazil, as early as the 19l0s, the Rockefeller Foundation was
giving support to the school of medicine of Sao Paulo and pressing for full-time
teaching and research. Argentina's early experience seems to have been more
general and more endogenous. The University of Buenos Aires developed some
significant research institutes in the first decades of this century, including
the Ethnographic Museum, the Institute of Historical Research and, most
notably, the Institute of Physiology of the School of Medicine under the
leadership of Bernardo Houssay, Nobel laureate in medicine in 1974(4).
Scientists as Activists
There is a chapter still to be written about how the scientistic ideology,
previously restricted to very closed circles, started to gain momentum and
reach sectors of the educational system and society in Latin America other
than the schools of medicine and some isolated institutes.(5)
The dissemination of this ideology eventually led to tensions between the
research oriented professors and several of the other sectors of the universities
- the students, the teachers, the administration. Students on the whole
tended to be concerned with obtaining their degrees and their right to work
as professionals in a market which was, until recently, quasi-monopolized
by the holders of diplomas (technical competence was seldom a decisive factor
for professional success); the traditional teachers and professors usually
drew their prestige from professional work or from cultivated, individual
scholarship; and the administration usually did not have the resources,
mentality or flexibility to respond to the demands of continuous research
which came from this new and emerging group. They had, however, an important
thing in common: they all wanted more prestige and resources for the universities,
and they all realized, often implicitly, that the presence of science could
help them in this direction.
It is possible to divide the years of scientific activism into three general
phases or periods. The first, which in the case of Brazil occurred in the
years prior to the Second World War, was related to attempts to build new
university institutions that could be established around advanced scientific
and cultural centers or institutes. The second included more ambitious attempts
to completely change the traditional university structures and to give scientific
and technological research a central role in social and economic planning.
The third involved attempts to create fairly isolated and protected niches
for scientific research.
The Brazilian experience before the Second World War was very significant.
The university of São Paulo, the largest and most important in the country,
was organized in the 1930s with a School of Sciences at its center (called
"Faculty of Philosophy, Sciences and Letters") which was intended to conduct
research and to train teachers for the secondary schools of the state of
Sao Paulo. The initiative for this project did not come primarily from scientists,
however, but from a combination of local intellectuals and the political
and economic elite of the state who saw in a first-class university an important
element in their quest for a central role in the political life of the country.
All of the professors at the new school of sciences were recruited from
abroad, and, despite many difficulties, this became the source of some of
the most important research traditions that still exist in Brazil. A similar
approach was attempted in Rio de Janeiro a couple of years later, with the
Universidade do Distrito Federal. There, however, proximity to the central
government and the much more obviously liberal ideology of the new institution
brought it in sharp confrontation with the country's Church-oriented Ministry
of Education, leading to the dosing of the University after its first three
years.(6)
These movements towards university reform were quite different from what
was commonly known as the "reform movement" in the Latin American universities,
which led in the first decades of the century to the institutionalization
of student and alumni participation in their administrative bodies. Then,
the demands for political participation were paramount, and the students
were the more active group; now, science and education in the arts and humanities
was at the core of the new initiatives, and a much more active intelligentsia
was involved.
Scientific activism gained momentum after the Second World War, but with
a few important differences. First, a significant transformation in the
ideologies of the scientific intelligentsia had occurred. Before the War,
the need for science was proclaimed in the name of culture and civilization.
A civilized country had to have music, arts and science, and a place for
cultivating them; the university was felt to be this place, and it was not
to be geared towards short-term, utilitarian goals. However, the scientists
promised that if a central place for science were established, benefits
would necessarily be forthcoming sooner or later. After the War the tone
had changed. Science began to he perceived as an important tool for economic
development and planning, and the scientists began to argue that their social
responsibility should not he limited to their academic life; they wanted
and felt capable of participating in all of the relevant decisions for their
societies. The involvement of scientists in England, the United States and
the Soviet Union in the war effort had been followed quite closely, amid
the ideas put forward in the previous years by J. D. Bernal and F. Joliot-Curie
were well known. Because of that, political participation was generally
perceived as a necessary channel for reaching the levels of influence and
social responsibility they thought necessary.
Another important change was that the flow of scholars between Latin America
and the United States was intensified during the 1940s, as part of the United
States' "good neighbors' policy," which replaced at a much higher level
the former patterns of exchange with Europe. Now scientists could gain a
first hand knowledge of large scale research and get in contact with elite
universities which tended to be exceptions in their own country but which
became models that were later adopted in Latin America. And finally, as
industrialization and urbanization became more intense, the demand for higher
education also increased. In the optimistic years of the postwar period,
everybody agreed that the future depended on more education, more schools,
more scientists, and more research. Thus, demand for more science and university
reform became part of the same general movement towards the improvement
of higher education and the general modernization of the Latin American
countries.
From this point on, two seemingly contradictory but often simultaneous developments
occurred. One was the attempt to completely change the traditional university
structure, making scientific research its core. The other was to find isolated,
protected niches for scientific research, away from the turbulence and pressures
of the higher education system.
A reversal of the traditional university structure was a revolutionary proposal.
It required breaking the power of the old faculties, imposing demanding
patterns of scholarship on students and teachers, placing more value on
research work than on professional achievement and discriminating within
the higher education system between good and bad universities, departments,
research groups and courses. It also meant dividing the students into those
who would be oriented towards research and those who would be limited to
conventional education for the liberal professions. It would require a complete
change of mentality and in the people responsible for running the institutions
of higher education. These ideas were not very new, since they were already
present in the universities organized in Brazil during the 1930s But the
power of the traditional faculties could not be curbed at that time, and
after the War they aimed at a much larger system of higher education.
Who were the proponents of this revolution? Typically, they were young,
bright, rising middle- or upper-class people, usually with significant experience
of work and study in an advanced, industrialized country, more often than
not the United States. They had experienced other cultures and mentalities,
and did not accept the prestige hierarchies of their own societies; they
were confident in their own ability to change and lead a modernized educational
and research system; and they were able to muster enough international and
national support to try their ideas out. They believed that their societies
would benefit from more science and cease to be backward and underdeveloped.
Many also believed that the scientific approach should be put to work not
only for the development of new technologies or for the control of tropical
diseases, but also for the implementation of social and political planning
at the highest possible level. Therefore, their political outlook tended
to be rationalistic, nationalist and, quite often, socialist. The opposition
developed by this emerging elite against the traditional university establishment
coincided very often with the well-known mobilization of the students. The
students, however, tended to oppose the higher education institutions for
quite different reasons. They wanted more decision-making power in educational
and administrative affairs, more social benefits and less scholarly demands.
In the last ten or fifteen years in Latin America, a university degree has
ceased to be an assured ticket to a comfortable high status and highly paying
social position, and the students anticipated their social and professional
frustration with total rejection of the values and operating procedures
of the universities. They accused the universities of being backward, not
concerned with the needs of their country's deprived population, and subservient
to the traditional oligarchies - as did their younger, frustrated and best
trained teachers. They also charged the universities with being elitist,
flooded with Western, imported mentality and technologies - and here the
alliance became more complex.
On balance, the attempts at university reform through political mobilization
proved very frustrating. In the early 1960s the Facultad de Ciencias Exactas
of the University of Buenos Aires became the focus of a very active attempt
to change the entire university system in the direction of both high scientific
standards amid intense political participation. It clashed, however, with
the military regime in 1966; most of its staff resigned from their positions
and afterwards even left the country. The University of Brasilia, organized
in the early 1960s along the lines of the North American department structure,
suffered a similar fate. It was presented as and believed to be an example
of the profound university reform the students and intellectuals were pressing
for, and the consequence was a series of confrontations with the military
regime which did not allow the experiment to continue. In other places and
countries, mobilization for university reform tended to remain rhetorical,
seldom leading to actual attempts at institutional change. The general climate
of political repression that fell over most of the Latin American countries
in the 1960s struck the universities particularly harshly, and the idea
that they could provide the basis for social change started to look very
remote.
The alternative was to try to create isolated and protected niches for scientific
research within or, preferably, outside the universities. This was a tendency
that had existed all along, but became more pronounced in the 1960s. In
the early 1950s, for example, the Brazilian government organized an advanced
center for research in physics in Rio de Janeiro which was meant to provide
the skills necessary for the country's atomic energy program. Because of
the vagaries of that program, however, the Center remained an academic institution
without an adequate organizational setting (it was later absorbed by the
Brazilian National Research Council). The Argentinian atomic energy program
was much more successful (it is certainly the most successful in Latin America)(7)
and its research activities were carried on in the tourist town of Bariloche,
thousands of kilometers away from Buenos Aires. The ambitious Instituto
Venezolano de Investigaciones Cientificas was placed in the mountains outside
Caracas, far away from the students, teachers and disturbances of Venezuela's
capital. Other examples can certainly be found.
The most comprehensive attempt along these lines, however, was carried out
by the Brazilian government from the late 1960s on. It was novel in that
resources for scientific and technological research came not from the educational
or industrial development authorities, but from the sectors in government
responsible for economic planning and long-term investments. This meant,
first, that the money available for research was very large compared with
the country's research capability and, second, that short-term criteria
of efficiency and productivity were seldom applied and used in the evaluation
of research activities.
It is possible to link the emergence of this new science policy to a few,
influential scientists that retained their faith in the promises of science
and technology for social and economic progress. There are also dear links
between this policy and the ideas of economic development through self-reliance
that have been put forward by the United Nation's Economic Commission for
Latin America in the past years, which have gained widespread acceptance
among Latin American economists. There was a significant degree of common
ground of understanding between these scientists, economic planners and
some segments of the military that participated in the government in the
name of a policy of national strength and self-reliance.
The dispersion of agencies for scientific and technological development
reached most of the Latin American countries during the 1960s, prompted
very often by the assistance of international organizations. They were,
as often as not, run by professional economists captivated by the ideologies
of economic planning and development, and they avoided, whenever possible,
getting too involved with the heated politics of the universities.
The consequences of this attempt are many and have not been completely evaluated
thus far. For one thing, in just a few years Brazil was able to organize
the largest and in many ways strongest research establishment in Latin America,
making it probably second only to India among the underdeveloped countries.
The investment of funds from the economic planning agencies in science and
technology coincided with deep transformations in the country's higher education
system. The American model of centralized institutes and departmental organization
became law in 1968; graduate education started to appear as part of the
regular university programs; full-time employment possibilities became available
for university teachers on a much larger scale than before. At the same
time, entrance requirements at the universities were lowered, and a large
parallel system of private schools was allowed to develop in order to compensate
for the limited number of places at the public universities. In short, the
higher education system became much larger, more differentiated and more
stratified than before. Frustrations among the students increased and student
political participation and mobilization became subject to extreme forms
of repression, particularly between 1969 and 1973.
The new research programs did not fit in well in this changed environment.
The reorganization of the universities along these new lines was often troublesome,
and the new organizational forms did not necessarily bring about the expected
consequences for behavior and performance. Very often, the same traditional
power groups within the universities managed to adapt to the new institutional
arrangements without losing their strength. The combination of lower entrance
requirements and political repression of the undergraduate students created
a climate of demoralization that was not conducive, to say the least, to
professional scientific work. Moreover, several prestigious scientists that
had been among the most outstanding leaders of the comprehensive reform
movements of the previous years were expelled from the universities.
The institutional setting for the new programs varied: they included isolated
research institutes, new departments within the universities with high levels
of autonomy in relation to the central administration, and new and smaller
research-oriented universities organized alongside the traditional ones.
The new groups which benefitted from the resources now available tended
to be young and apolitical, or at least having little memory or personal
ties with the recent past. Working in fairly isolated and protected places,
getting salaries from independent projects and not from the budgets of the
universities and not having to teach undergraduate students, they could
think of themselves as long-term reformers waiting for the political storm
to wear away and building the foundation for the country's future scientific
and technological self-reliance.
Scientists under Pressure
It was impossible, however, to remain isolated amid protected for too long.
As the differentiation within the higher education systems increased, the
scientists and their protected institutes and laboratories became an obvious
target for pressures. Neither the undergraduate students nor their more
traditional teachers had much sympathy for these groups of young Ph.Ds holding
foreign degrees, using foreign terms, writing esoteric pieces, being better
payed than their colleagues and having a much lighter teaching load. The
central administrations of the universities never liked the idea of sizeable
funds going directly from the planning agencies to department heads or research
leaders without their participation and approval. The economists in the
financing agencies started to become wary of the scientists' continuous
requests for resources for long-term, basic research and started to demand
more clearly measurable, short-term results. Project evaluation through
peer review mechanisms started to be perceived as self-serving for the scientists
in the better institutions, leading to progressive concentration of resources
in the best and richest centers. Demands for equity on behalf of poorer
regions and institutions became common.
Two important factors contributed to the increasing pressures upon the research
establishment. The first was the lack of resources for continued growth.
In Brazil, the number of research groups and institutions increased very
rapidly when money was available, an expansion curtailed very rapidly by
the general economic crisis that started to become more evident in the mid
1970s. Other countries with similar experiences of rapid growth - Mexico,
Venezuela - have probably suffered the same problems in recent years. Obviously,
with increasing demands and dwindling resources, competition emerged both
within the scientific establishment and between the scientists and other
sectors. At this time, all kinds of alliances were formed. For instance,
a relatively weak research group in a small, peripheral university could
join forces with the students and the administration of the university against
resources being given to high quality research groups at the center. A second
factor was the overall improvement of the political climate. In Brazil,
as in a few other Latin American countries, the military regimes established
around the 1960s in reaction to rising populist politics gradually lost
their grip on their societies and started to allow for different forms of
political participation and manifestation. The Brazilian state elections
of 1982 were fairly free, and several well-known opposition leaders were
elected in the main centers of the country; the military regime in Buenos
Aires established a calendar for presidential elections; the repressive
Uruguayan regime began to ease; how long Pinochet will last in Chile is
anyone's guess; and Venezuela has had a fairly democratic political regime
for many years.
The reasons for this trend are complex, and cannot be dealt with here. In
general. however, it can be suggested that the military regimes met with
trouble less because of the mounting pressures from within their societies
than because of their own inability to fulfill their avowed social and economic
goals with a minimum of competence.(8) The
fact is that as the leeway for political participation increased, pressures
on university research tended to rise. The volume of contradictory demands
on the educational and research policy authorities increased, and their
natural inclination was to respond to the larger and more articulate pressure
groups - students, teachers' associations, administrative personnel - rather
than to researchers. Under these conditions the allocation of resources
tends to be related to short-term political considerations, as does the
recruitment of administrators for educational and research policy agencies.
Criteria of social regional and even racial equality or convenience may
take priority over criteria of performance and excellence, and the scientists
may find it harder and harder to justify the money and freedom they feel
they need.
In Search of a New Role
The scientific community is therefore faced with a serious dilemma. On the
one hand, it would prefer to have more freedom for research and less interference
in its work from bureaucrats, administrators. Rectors and planning authorities.
On the other, its members, more often than not, share the basic values of
democracy, social participation, equality and socioeconomic development
that threaten their own work. Their challenge is to find a way to redefine
their social role and combine the two goals. They have tried to do this
in different ways.
A common approach is to try to increase the presence of scientists in their
country's decision-making bodies. This is, of course, the classic Bernalist
approach: to place scientists as high up in government as possible and to
emphasize the need for comprehensive planning and the integration of science
and technology, applied and basic or pure research. The political and social
bases of their governments do not seem to be very important. In Brazil,
scientists who spoke in favor of a ministry of science and technology in
the 1950s continued to do so in the 1960s and 1970s, in spite of the profound
change in the country's political regime and the personal repression many
of them suffered. The idea that a centralized system of science planning
would increase the bureaucracy, give basic research lower priority and in
the end remove the scientists from participation in the decisions related
to their work does not seem to bother those who advocate this option. They
quite probably believe that they would be the ones to be called on to run
the powerful planning agendas they are pressing for and that there is something
inherently good in central planning and coordination. They certainly also
believe that if decisions about science were taken at the highest political
level, they would be freed from the day-to-day pressures to which they are
presently subjected.
The other approach is to make their own research more directly relevant
for society. The selection of research topics based on their short-term
social and economic impact, involvement with local community groups and
an increasing willingness to participate in undergraduate teaching are movements
in this direction. Quite often this approach is combined with a strong rejection
of the assumptions of "universal science" and their corollaries: the value
of scientific research for its own sake, the importance of publishing in
international journals, the prestige attached to formal degrees and the
standard evaluation mechanisms of research work - peer groups, external
referees, citation analyses, etc.
An extreme form of this approach can be found in some "softer" areas such
as educational research, where "action research" has become a catchword
and research proposals are often justified in terms of the supposed inseparability
of theory and practice, knowledge and action, science and ideology. The
contradiction between this way of looking at research work and the more
elitist approaches described above are quite obvious and tend to be compounded
by the traditional rejection of natural and "hard" scientists towards the
scientific pretensions of their colleagues in the social fields.
A third approach, common among science administrators, is to press for closer
links between the research system and industry. When this view prevails,
projects are selected and have better chances of being supported if they
lead to dearly defined products, and institutional arrangements are devised
to put the research resources of the universities at the service of the
industrial sector. At the same time, mechanisms are sought to facilitate
the movement of scientists between the two environments. In a few sectors,
linkages are sought not with private industry but with government, including
the military establishment. In practice, several case studies have shown
that this is not an easy marriage. University researchers and industrialists
speak different languages and work according to quite distinct goals and
rhythms, and only in special circumstances can they establish a permanent
working relationship. This is not, of course, particular to Latin America,
but there is a tendency in this region to assume that the integration between
universities and industry works quite smoothly in the developed countries
and to try to emulate it.
The approaches described so far are "ideal types" which in real life occur
in different combinations. In fact, scientists tend very often to assume
contradictory images of their own field and social role. A good example
of this is found in the answers given to a questionnaire presented to a
group of top biological researchers from Latin America during an international
conference held in Rio de Janeiro in 1979(9). They tended to agree that biologists should not
be called upon to contribute directly to the solution of the practical problems
of their societies. They wanted to preserve their autonomy and freedom of
research and did not like the idea of being subject to priorities established
elsewhere. Most of them did not like the current priorities for biological
research in the region but did not agree on what the priorities should be.
In fact, their perception of what the present priorities were and what they
should be did not differ significantly; first, the formation of human resources;
second, to contribute to the advancement of scientific knowledge; and only
third, to contribute to the solution of current social problems. When asked,
however, about the practical contributions their work could make to their
societies, they were ready to provide a list of items ranging from endemic
diseases to nutrition, agricultural production and pharmacology. The lack
of correspondence between these supposed contributions amid their actual
priorities seems to be an indication that their belief in the social and
economic relevance of their work does not have a direct influence on what
they actually do as researchers or as people involved in shaping the science
policies in their own field.
What have been the effects of the efforts to redefine the role of scientists
in the university research system and in scientific research as a whole?
One positive consequence has been that the traditional justifications for
supporting scientific research have become very difficult to maintain. Today
very few people still talk about the ideals of free research guided only
by each scientist's personal preferences amid the invisible hand of the
scientific market. By the same token, it is not easy to argue that scientists
are in possession of the key to a better future and should, therefore, receive
all the resources and the political power they demand. It is now clear that
the role of the scientists is more limited and more subject to social, economic
and political constraints and that consideration of social needs, economic
relevance, comparative advantages, and so on could guide a competent scientific
community toward a more scientifically realistic and more socially significant
goals. This could, in turn, bring to the scientific community more social
prestige, influence and, thus, the ability to obtain greater resources.
At the same time, this is fertile ground for incompetence and mystification.
The traditional Mertonian model for the organization of the scientific community
provided it with built-in mechanisms for quality control in spite of its
obvious limitations (for instance, it was much more appropriated for basic
and "hard" sciences than for fields which are more technological or which
do not have a well-established paradigm. The rapid growth of scientific
institutions in contexts without a previous tradition of academic institutions
is bound to generate a sizeable number of professionals, institutions and
research groups that would not survive in a more demanding scientific environment.
There is a natural competition between these emerging groups amid the older,
more established amid competent scientific sectors. When the traditional
mechanisms of peer review function, the more competent groups are more likely
to prevail in the competition over scarce resources. When other criteria
and other participants enter the decision making process, this situation
can be reversed. New, less firmly established research groups are more likely
to adopt untested methodologies to look for short term practical results
and to embark on contract research of an uncertain nature than people amid
institutions having a longer tradition of competence at stake. A conflict
which expresses itself in terms of values of social concern equality, innovation,
interdisciplinarity, etc. vs. elitism, conservation, academism and rigidity
may in fact hide a much simpler and more elementary conflict between competence,
on the one hand and incompetence and intellectual opportunism on the other.
However in some instances the rhetoric may in fact correspond to reality.
It is equally difficult and crucial to distinguish these different types
of conflict from each other. The outcome of the current situation is not
easily predicted. It is possible that the fragile scientific community formed
in many Latin American countries over the past ten or twenty years will
simply not be able to redefine its role amid will therefore succumb to the
current combination of diminishing resources and increasing pressures. There
is also a chance that a renewed appreciation of the values of scholarship,
freedom of research and intellectual independence will give it more breathing
space, at least in some areas and countries. For this to happen, however,
it will be necessary to bridge the gap and find a point of equilibrium between
the old faith in the neutrality and natural goodness of science and the
utilitarian view. The simple juxtaposition of the two is a solution that
will probably not be able to last for much longer. A much more complex ideology
of the role of scientific research in these (amid other) societies is needed,
and this is, I believe, the biggest challenge of all.
Notes
1. An overview of the attempts to establish university
research in a few of the larger Latin American countries cars be found in
the author's contribution, "The Focus on Scientific Activity", to Burton
R. Clark, editor, Perspectives in Higher Education: Eight Disciplinary
and Comparative Views, Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of
California Press, 1984, pp 199-232. See also, for Brazil, S Schwartzman',
"Struggling to be Born: The Scientific Community in Brazil", Minerva
XVI, 4, 1978 pp.545-580.
2. For a partial summary of the literature dealing with
this process see Simon Schwartzman, "Politics and Academics in Latin American
Universities", Journal of Interamerican Studies and World Affairs,
August, 1983.
3. For the "master matrix" concept, see Burton R. Clark,
The Higher Education System: Academic Organization in Cross-National Perspective.
Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press, 1983.
4. Tulio Halperin Donghi, Historia de la Universidad
de Buenos Aires. Buenos Aires: Editorial Universitaria de Buenos Aires,
1962.
5. On "scientistic ideology" and its role in providing
space for scientific growth see Joseph Ben-David, The Scientist's Rote
in Society. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, Inc, 1972.
6. On the Brazilian university projects in the thirties
see Antonio Paim, "Por uma Universidade no Rio de Janeiro", in Simon Schwartzman,
editor, Universidades e Instituições Científicas ns Rio de Janeiro,
Brasilia: Conselho Nacional de Desenvolvimento Científico e Tecnológico,
1982; Simon Schwartzman et al., Formacão da Comunidade Científica no
Brasil. São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro: Cia: Editora Nacional/ FINEP,
1979; and Simon Schwartzman, Helena Bomeny and Vanda Ribeiro Costa, Tempos
de Capanema, Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo. Ed. Paz e Terra/ EDUSP,
1985.
7. For an in-depth comparison of the Brazilian and Argentinian
experiences in the field of atomic energy and computer science research,
see Emanuel Adler, A Cultural Theory of Change in International Political
Economy: Science, Technology and Computer Policies in Brasil and Argentina.
University of California at Berkeley, Department of Political Science, Ph.D.
dissertation, 1982.
8. There is a growing literature on the current breakdown
of authoritarian regimes in Latin America. See, among others, Fernando Henrique
Cardoso, "Os Impasses do Regime Autoritário: O Caso Brasileiro", Estudos
CEBRAP, n. 26, 1980, pp. 173-194; and Sergio Henrique Abranches, "Crise
e Transição: uma Interpretação do Momento Politico Nacional", Dados
- Revista de Ciências Sociais, vol.25, 3, 1982, pp. 307-330.
9. Thirty-one scientists from seven Latin American countries,
half of them from Brazil, answered the questionnaires administered and analyzed
by this author.
<