The Geography of Power: Why Killing a Discipline Reveals a University's True Priorities
There’s a bitter irony in shutting down geography programs during a climate crisis. The University of Exeter’s decision to eliminate undergraduate geography admissions at its Penryn campus isn’t just a budgetary move—it’s a symbolic declaration of what institutions value when push comes to shove. Let me explain why this isn’t about austerity, but about ideology.
The Illusion of 'Cost-Cutting'
Universities always claim cuts are about economics. But if money were the real issue, why protect geography at Exeter’s main campus while abandoning the same subject in Cornwall? What makes this particularly fascinating is how selective the pruning appears. A 150-role reduction across the university suddenly becomes a targeted extermination of one discipline in one location. This raises a deeper question: Who benefits from making geography education less accessible to students outside major cities?
Personally, I think the timing is no accident. Announcing this during A-level results week—when stressed students and families are scrambling through clearing—is pure psychological warfare. It’s a calculated move to minimize backlash. Who’s going to organize protests when everyone’s focused on finding a university spot last-minute? The UCU’s outrage is justified, but let’s not pretend this was about poor planning. This was about choosing the path of least resistance for institutional disruption.
The Two-Tier Campus Myth
The university insists it’s ‘committed’ to Penryn while shifting geography students to Exeter. Translation: Cornwall’s campus is now a second-class facility. Let’s dissect this two-tier system. Geography isn’t just lectures and textbooks—it’s fieldwork, community projects, and regional environmental analysis. By centralizing the program, they’re severing ties with Cornwall’s unique landscapes and communities. A detail that I find especially interesting is how this mirrors broader UK educational trends: concentrating ‘prestige’ programs in major cities while peripheral campuses become glorified satellite campuses for basic degrees.
This isn’t just bad for students—it’s bad for geography as a discipline. Coastal erosion patterns in Devon require different study methods than urban heat islands in Exeter. Geographic diversity demands geographic diversity in education. Without local programs, we risk producing analysts who study ecosystems through spreadsheets rather than soil samples.
The Hidden Curriculum: What Universities Teach Us About Value
Here’s what many people don’t realize: when a university kills a program, it’s broadcasting what it considers ‘essential knowledge.’ Imagine being a Cornwall student passionate about marine geography—your local campus suddenly tells you your interests aren’t worth sustaining. Meanwhile, Exeter’s campus keeps its program for wealthier students who can afford relocation costs. This creates a vicious cycle where regional talent either leaves home (and may never return) or abandons their academic passions entirely.
What this really suggests is a fundamental shift in how universities view their role. They’re transitioning from centers of exploration to job-training facilities. Geography, with its uncomfortable truths about climate injustice and resource distribution, doesn’t fit neatly into the corporate university model. It’s easier to teach data analytics to students who’ll become profitable alumni than to support geographers who might challenge corporate sponsors.
The Bigger Picture: A Crisis in Higher Education
Let’s zoom out. The Exeter situation is part of a disturbing global pattern:
- Humanities and social sciences are increasingly treated as disposable ‘luxuries’
- Regional campuses become sacrificial lambs during financial stress
- Student recruitment strategies trump educational continuity
- Consultations become rubber stamps after decisions are made public
From my perspective, the real tragedy is how normalized this feels. We’ve become so accustomed to universities operating like corporations that we barely blink when departments get ‘phased out.’ But geography isn’t just a subject—it’s a lens for understanding how humans interact with their environments. Killing programs during a climate emergency is like abolishing medical schools during a pandemic.
What’s Next? The Future We’re Building
The Penryn decision might seem like a local story, but it’s a blueprint for what happens when universities prioritize brand management over intellectual diversity. If we let this slide, what’s next? History departments axed for not generating patents? Literature programs cut because poetry doesn’t boost GDP?
One thing that immediately stands out is the generational divide here. Older administrators see geography as a ‘soft science,’ while younger generations recognize it as critical for climate resilience. The university might be betting that current students will just transfer or go elsewhere—but they’re gambling with the future of a discipline that could help solve the crises they’ll inherit.
This isn’t just about one university’s budget. It’s about who gets to shape knowledge production in the 21st century. And if Exeter’s actions tell us anything, it’s that those in power would rather shrink the map of human understanding than challenge the systems that put them in charge.
