This array of images is a pictorial essay on graduation at the University of Newcastle in Australia. The university promotes itself as one of the top 100 in the world - or is it 200? # - as well as being one of the most inclusive, with an attractive graphic of what one assumes to be a horse.
The obvious question: ‘Why a horse?’, leaves one puzzled. A little research explains that the pretty image is a seahorse - Oh! Why didn’t I recognise the delicate straight line of the head and the watery forms, instead of reading the iconic marker as a horse and flames, perhaps suggesting determination and perseverance; maybe commitment in the face of the challenge of learning?
No; the meaning lay in a subtle, almost too clever and exotic reference to hippocampus: see Wiktionary and Wikipedia where the Greek meanings are noted - hippo and campus - for a word that carries the suggestive reference to a part of the brain and the campus as ‘educational’ sites. The symbol seemed to be all about learning; but who speaks of the seahorse as a hippocampus today? Does the logo hold too much of a corny reference to being ‘brainy’ with the hippocampus being known as the part of the brain responsible for memory, emotion and learning that has the shape of a sea horse, before any derivation via Latin from Greek hippokampos: hippo horse; kampos sea monster, is recalled?*
This learned reference lingered pictorially with some irony at graduation day - well, at one graduation event. The university breaks the occasion into morning, midday, and evening occasions over a few of days, just to handle the numbers. It is an admirable challenge that staff endure with style, panache, and reasonable humour; but it does hold a sense of a production line that reminds one of the cynical view that universities have become businesses interested in selling degrees, even, on some occasions, ensuring that ‘honours’ comes into this field of promotional learning endeavour, apparently to highlight excellence in quantities, by including the word in the formal title of the degree, ensuring that, with this particular degree, everyone graduates ‘with honours,’ a unique category that has its own special hierarchy in further divisions and grades; there were thirty ‘first class honours’ in one class, with other groups of thirty or so students scheduled as being within division one and two, and grades one and two of each division. One wonders about such matters, fearing that they might be mere word games implemented only to impress, to smarten up fairly ordinary outcomes.
Surely a centre of learning would never lower itself to be so cunningly manipulative? One was left uncertain about this as one strolled through the milling of the crowds on this morning of the graduation calendar with a small camera - the typo is telling; ‘milking’ appeared as the fat finger stuttered over the miniature, mobile keyboard to galvanise the question: was education and the celebration of success really all just a matter of maximising the possibilities for the extraction of money?
The style and the sense of occasion was impressive. Academic dress has its own symbolism and authority, and gives a regal/legal, learned, aloof feel with its flowing robes and platformed heads, mortarboards, that get touched by the right hand as a form of recognition and respect, almost as a salute, but gentler, as the gesture causes one to slightly bow to the other.
It is all very splendid; but, alas, the rule is that the mortarboard has to be purchased from the university, and the robe and hood have to be rented from the same outlet. Last year’s mortarboard cannot be reused; neither can your or another’s gown or hood be worn. What strange rules. Is the setup really just meant to be that of a cash cow?
The morning was warm, with only an occasional movement in the air. The early afternoon crowds gathered in the space allocated outside the Great Hall after the formalities. The pavement being trod on was decorated with aboriginal-looking motives. The graphic ‘dictionary’ was provided on a post to explain its ‘deep meaning’ of this art – see: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2024/06/country-outside-inside-place.html. All graduates had been given badges; one was a floral image designed by a First Nations graduate; the other held the logo with the words of the name of this centre of learning. It seemed a shame that the hippocampus hadn’t been used as a button badge just by itself. Perhaps it was considered to be too obscure?
Aboriginal sensitivities seemed to abound. All speakers acknowledged country and elders, etc. appropriately, according to the guidelines## - see https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2024/06/country-outside-inside-place.html - and the aboriginal flag fluttered overhead along with that of the Torres Straight Islands and Australia. Most of this context seemed to be ignored by the graduates and their families who were excitedly taking their proud snapshots of the family member who was gaining all the attention - a family first? - as snapshots captured mortarboards flying through the air, re- enactments of actions seen on TV and in the movies, as if to prove that the event was real, rather than being a spontaneous gestural enjoyment.
On lifting one’s eyes to follow the trajectory of the square, tasseled projectile, one became aware of the beauty of the treed campus; it was indeed a wonderful site for learning; but the questions lingered. Dominating this busyness, was a small tent-like shelter with large lettering on its roof that reminded one just too much of the savage cliche critique of universities: ‘THE SHOP.’ Signs on pathways directed one to this ‘official’ place of commerce. Around the edge flap of this shelter, one was reminded that this was ‘SHOP.NEWCASTLE.EDU.COM’ - ‘OFFICIAL MERCHANDISE.’ Indeed there was an array of gifts available: the essential bunches of flowers for those who had forgotten; stuffed animals, some, almost mockingly, in academic dress; branded mugs and glasses; and tee shirts marked with the university’s logo and name. The outlet reminded one of a hospital shop rather than an academic store. There was not anything that might hold or represent the values of learning available other than a notebook/diary and pen complete with logos, which, like the rest, just reminded one of kitsch. The flowers looked grim, as they came in a white wrapper edged with the black line used traditionally to announce death.
It was all very sad. Is this really the only way the day could be celebrated and remembered, by selling things that one might expect to see in sideshow alley? THE SHOP seemed to reinforce the idea of this centre of learning pandering to populism for cheap profit rather than searching for excellence in any field. One envisaged this ‘Degree Shop’ as completing an event that was all beautifully and shrewdly presented with slick, published booklets+ and pretty badges, with paraphernalia for cute, quirky remembrance and shrewdly blatant self-promotion. Are memories always best sustained with such crudely brash, unsophisticated sentiments?
After all, places like this have to promote themselves just as any business does, don’t they? Well, no; ideally one might have hoped that the reputation gained from real outcomes might have been enough. It seemed that things were being forced, orchestrated just too much, suggesting that there was a gap to be filled; perhaps a void in the performance and output that needs to be glossed over, avoided?
In spite of this, the hype of the day was contagious, as indulgent families rode on the wave of promoted, congratulatory success as they relaxed after enduring the years of study, putting aside the next great challenge in life for just a few hours - employment; getting a job. One wondered: what will happen to the academic teddy bear embodying that startling clash between the ideals of rigorous scholarship and the emotional lure of scheming sentiment?
P.S.
And there was more; in another building there were snacks, drinks, and live music on offer to let everyone celebrate. In amongst this cacophony there was a framing service offered for a cost: your formal degree could be immediately framed in gold and black, ready to be hung on the wall when you returned home. It seemed that every opportunity to make a quick quid had been explored; and it seemed that few families could resist spoiling their special loved one on this bespoke day. ‘Milking’ seemed to be the appropriate term to describe the crass process that was successfully stimulated by a mix of enthusiasm and other emotions that modified most inhibitions to allow the impulse purchases to flow freely.
#
One speaker said in her speech that the university was in the top 100. The booklet suggests that it was in the top 200. Google says that it is in ‘the top 201-250 in the world.’
+
This site has the live streaming of the occasion and digital versions of the publications: https://www.newcastle.edu.au/current-students/study-essentials/graduation/live-streaming
*
Google’s AI overview adds yet another layer to this unusual logo:
The University of Newcastle’s (UON) coat of arms features a seahorse, a mythical creature, as a symbol because it's based on the coat of arms of the Shortland family, the university’s founder:
Seahorse
The Shortland family’s coat of arms depicts a seahorse, a mythical, heraldic creature. The illustration on the grant of arms shows a hippocampus, a mythical beast that resembles a ‘merman’ with the head of a horse.
It seems that the origin of the logo was heraldic, with the references to brain, memory, and learning being squeezed out of this strange image that has turned out to be a very attractive and clever graphic image. The use of both the heraldic image along with the snappy graphic in university promos does cause some muddlement, as each has its own separate set of messages.
Wikipedia illustrates the university’s coat of arms. The motto is ‘I LOOK AHEAD,’ but the seahorse/merman is looking left, which, to the western eye that reads left to right in its progression, seems to be backwards:
##
Traditional Custodians
The University of Newcastle acknowledges the traditional custodians of the lands within our footprint areas: Awabakal, Darkinjung, Biripai, Worimi, Wonnarua, and Eora Nations. We also pay respect to the wisdom of our Elders past and present. About our Indigenous Collaboration:
newcastle.edu.au
One has to remember that, in spite of this acknowledgement and recognition, over 60% of the voting population of Australia denied the First Nations members their Voice – the right to be listened to; and it is believed that this State Government-owned institution has no intention of handing over the campus or any part of it to the traditional custodians it goes out of its way to acknowledge, or to the wise Elders it respects with so much resolve in its declaration.
THE ESSAY
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