Strategic Science in the Public Interest 9781442684829

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STRATEGIC SCIENCE IN THE PUBLIC INTEREST: CANADA’S GOVERNMENT LABORATORIES AND SCIENCE-BASED AGENCIES

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G. BRUCE DOERN AND JEFFREY S. KINDER

Strategic Science in the Public Interest Canada’s Government Laboratories and Science-Based Agencies

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO PRESS Toronto Buffalo London

www.utppublishing.com © University of Toronto Press Incorporated 2007 Toronto Buffalo London Printed in Canada ISBN 978-0-8020-8853-6 (cloth)

Printed on acid-free paper

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Doern, G. Bruce, 1942– Strategic science in the public interest : Canada’s government laboratories and science-based agencies / G. Bruce Doern and Jeffrey S. Kinder. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-8020-8853-6 1. Scientific bureaus – Canada. 2. Laboratories – Canada. 3. Science and state – Canada. 4. Technology and state – Canada. 5. Research – Government policy – Canada. 6. Canada. Natural Resources Canada. 7. Canada. Environment Canada. I. Kinder, Jeffrey S. II. Title. Q180.6.C3D63 2007

352.7’450971

C2006-905583-1

University of Toronto Press acknowledges the financial assistance to its publishing program of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council. University of Toronto Press acknowledges the financial support for its publishing activities of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP).

For Joan, Kristin, Rob, Jake, and Jessica and Shannon, Chris, and Bridget and for Céline, Benjamin, André, and Jonas

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Contents

Acknowledgments Abbreviations

xi

Introduction

3

ix

Part One: Historical Context and Analytical Framework 1 Government S&T Labs and Agencies as Institutions: Towards Middle-Level Approaches 19 2 Analytical Approach

43

Part Two: Case Studies of R&D-Focused Labs and RSA-Focused Agencies 3 The CANMET Mining and Mineral Sciences Laboratories and Canada’s Transformed Mining Sector 69 4 The CANMET Energy Technology Centre–Devon and the Alberta Oil Sands 94 5 The Environmental Technology Centre and Environmental Protection 117 6 The National Wildlife Research Centre and Frontline Sustainable Development 140 7 Related Science Activities in the Regulatory and Monitoring Process 166

viii Contents

8 Conclusions

187

Appendix: Canadian and Comparative Science and Technology Data References Index

227

211

205

Acknowledgments

This book is the product of research conducted at the Carleton Research Unit on Innovation, Science, and Environment (CRUISE) in the School of Public Policy and Administration at Carleton University. Overall, the research by the authors has involved a study of fourteen science and technology labs and agencies over the past five years, eight of which form the empirical core of this book. We are indebted to numerous officials in these labs and agencies and in several federal departments who were interviewed for this research, who assisted us with data and related information, and some of whom commented on earlier drafts of our work. The research process also involved a workshop in April 2002 at which more than seventy S&T lab and agency scientists and officials took part and discussed the changing nature of their institutions. We also wish to thank the University of Toronto Press’s three anonymous peer review assessors, whose comments, criticisms, and suggestions were extremely valuable. All of the above individuals have made this a better book but bear no responsibility for any remaining errors. These are our responsibility alone. Gratitude is owed to the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada for two research grants that supported this work, one on federal S&T institutions, and the other on the governance of natural resources in Canada. Our thanks are also owed to several federal departments – Natural Resources Canada, Environment Canada, Health Canada, and Industry Canada – for additional funding for the research and the workshop. Our colleagues at CRUISE and at the school, and at the Politics Department at Exeter University, as well as numerous graduate students, have supplied their usual generous level of support, enthusi-

x Acknowledgments

asm, and intellectual stimulation which makes research and teaching so worthwhile and enjoyable. Thanks are also due to support staff at the school, including Kimmie Huang, Iris Taylor, Martha Clark, and Meghan Innes, for their usual great professional help at several stages of this work.

Abbreviations

ACST AECL AMR AST CCAF CCRMP CCRPB CCWHC CEPA CESD

Advisory Council on Science and Technology Atomic Energy of Canada Ltd antimicrobial resistance Advanced Separation Technologies Climate Change Action Fund Canadian Certified Reference Materials Project Consumer and Clinical Radiation Protection Bureau Canadian Cooperative Wildlife Health Centre Canadian Environmental Protection Act Commissioner of the Environment and Sustainable Development CETC-Devon CANMET Energy Technology Centre–Devon CFI Canada Foundation for Innovation CFIA Canadian Food Inspection Agency CIDA Canadian International Development Agency CONRAD Canadian Oil Sands Network for Research and Development CSTA Council of Science and Technology Advisors CWS Canadian Wildlife Service EACSR External Advisory Committee on Smart Regulation EC Environment Canada EED Emergencies Engineering Division EETO Emergencies Engineering Technology Office EMR Energy, Mines and Resources EPA Environmental Protection Agency (U.S.) ETC Environmental Technology Centre FINE Federal Innovation Networks of Excellence

xii

Abbreviations

FTE GDP GLP GOCO HRA IEA IP KBE MAP MBPD MMSL NABST NAPS NCE NCUT NGO NPM NRC NRCan NSA NSB NSERC NSI NTFOSS NWRC OECD PERD PTRC R&D RSA S&T SARA SBDAs SCC SD SDTF SMART SMEs

full-time equivalents gross domestic product good laboratory practice government-owned, contractor-operated health risks assessment International Energy Agency intellectual property knowledge-based economy microwave-assisted processes Migratory Bird Populations Division Mining and Mineral Sciences Laboratories National Advisory Board on Science and Technology National Air Pollution Surveillance Networks of Centres of Excellence National Centre for Upgrading Technologies non-government organization new public management National Research Council (Canada) Natural Resources Canada National Science Advisor National Substances Branch Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council national system of innovation National Task Force on Oil Sands Technology National Wildlife Research Centre Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development Program of Energy Research and Development Petroleum Technology Research Centre research and development related science activities science and technology Species at Risk Act science-based departments and agencies Science Council of Canada sustainable development Sustainable Development Technology Fund Sustainable Mining and Rehabilitation Technology small and medium-sized enterprises

Abbreviations

SR&ED TEAM TQM TSRI VDD WHO WSC WTD

xiii

scientific research and experimental development (tax credit) technology early action measures total quality management Toxic Substances Research Initiative Veterinary Drugs Directorate World Health Organization Water Survey of Canada Wildlife Toxicology Division

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STRATEGIC SCIENCE IN THE PUBLIC INTEREST

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Introduction

Science and technology (S&T) in the government of Canada have long been important for the development of Canada, economically, socially, and politically. Organizations such as the Geological Survey of Canada (which predates Confederation), the Fisheries Research Board, and the Meteorological Service of Canada paved the way by exploring, inventorying, and monitoring Canada’s vast natural resources and physical environment. The government’s experimental farms and research stations were essential to the development of Canada’s agricultural economy and are direct forebears of the modern biotechnology industry. The National Research Council (NRC) was founded in 1916 and was the keystone of Canada’s crucial S&T efforts during the Second World War and of the postwar transformation of Canada’s S&T system – a process that included the early phases of Canadian nuclear energy development under Atomic Energy of Canada Ltd (AECL). As the nation’s S&T system matured, the NRC’s support for defence science and academic research was largely spun out to other players. In the early twenty-first century, the NRC through its numerous research institutes and national programs continues to be a major part of Canada’s science and innovation system. This book explores a further array of contemporary federal S&T labs and agencies whose mandates encompass government science in support of a range of public policy and regulatory realms, including wildlife, the Alberta oil sands, environmental technologies, the mining and mineral sector, chemical substances, veterinary drugs, consumer and clinical radiation, and water quality and monitoring. These areas of science are important to Canadians yet they rarely attract the attention of

4 Strategic Science in the Public Interest

most Canadians and often function well below the radar of even the politicians who are responsible for them. In the last years of the twentieth century and the early years of the twenty-first, federal government S&T entered a period of criticism and of both benign and deliberate neglect, as new ideas and frameworks for assessing the value of government S&T took hold and as governments in many countries began to consider closely how their citizens could prosper in the knowledge-based economy. Thus, from an early emphasis on nation building, the rationale for government S&T has been shifting increasingly to the promotion of innovation and commercialization. Indeed, the longer-term thrust of federal policy has been to get more of Canada’s research and development (R&D) paid for and carried out by the private sector. When Canadian science policy was first seriously debated in the mid-1960s, the federal government was the main funder and performer of R&D and industry’s role was the smaller one as a share of the economy. These figures were the polar opposite of the situation in most of Canada’s main competitors among OECD countries (Doern 1972; Dominion Bureau of Statistics 1970). In the 1970s this focus on increasing industrial research continued and a federal ‘make or buy’ policy made it explicit that ‘buying’ or procuring R&D was to be the rule for government departments except when the research was required to support policy and regulatory tasks central to the role of government (Government of Canada 1973; 1975). As chapter 1 will show, in the 1980s and 1990s the policy focus on industrial research continued but with little mention of the important ‘except’ clause in the earlier S&T policy. In the last decade of the twentieth century, S&T labs and agencies were hammered with budget cuts of up to 40 per cent under the deficit-slaying apparatus of the mid-1990s Program Review (Swimmer 1996; Canada 2003; Schillo 2003). Since 1997 the federal government, flush with healthy fiscal surpluses, has poured more than $13 billion into innovation and S&T funding; however, the great majority of it has gone to universities via new funding mechanisms such as the Canada Foundation for Innovation (CFI). Government S&T labs were largely ignored in this reinvestment process, at least initially. By 2003 the government R&D sector was seeing some increases in funding, but these were focused largely on particular federal bodies such as the NRC and on new bodies such as Genome Canada (Schillo 2003). Also, Health Canada’s lab in Winnipeg received a boost in public funding after the SARS crisis. However, most of the core labs in the

Introduction 5

federal science-based departments and agencies (SBDAs) continued to face very tight budget constraints. Furthermore, in the interim the costs of research and research equipment have increased much more quickly than basic inflation rates, and capital investment in the federal S&T infrastructure has not kept pace (ibid., 5–6). Meanwhile, these same labs are facing many new policy, regulatory, and monitoring obligations in the form of international health, safety, and environment agreements, as well as federal laws and regulations. As later chapters will show, the greatest pressure faced by federal labs over the past decade has related to demands that they strengthen their role as innovators and commercializers (Canada 2002a; Schillo 2003). The other public goods roles of labs have also been studied – especially regarding their role in the science/policy interface – but with few accompanying actions at the level of resources. For example, the Council of Science and Technology Advisors (CSTA), which was founded in 1998 to advise the federal Cabinet on the management of the government’s S&T enterprise, has published a series of reports dealing with issues such as the following: scientific advice; S&T excellence; linkages in the knowledge system; the renewal of S&T human resources; and science communications and public engagement (CSTA 1999; 2000; 2001; 2002; 2003; 2005). Each of these reports has addressed important aspects of S&T in government, but their central concern has not been to analyse the government’s S&T labs and agencies per se. In addition, in 2001 and 2002 the federal government considered but did not formally adopt the Federal Innovation Networks of Excellence (FINE). The purpose of the FINE initiative was to increase the capacity of government labs to conduct public goods science in support of national policy goals (Kinder 2003). Drawing on the model of the university-centred Networks of Centres of Excellence (NCE), FINE would have created a competitive funding process to establish research networks that would integrate the resources and expertise of the various SBDAs, universities, and the private sector to address specifically identified priorities. The FINE initiative did not materialize because it never garnered enough support relative to other national priorities or within the federal S&T community. More recently, Paul Martin’s Liberal government established the Office of the National Science Advisor (NSA), in part to help integrate the government’s in-house S&T activities; however, this office has been under-resourced and looks pretty slim compared to, for example, its counterpart in the UK (Rosenblatt and Kinder 2006).

6 Strategic Science in the Public Interest

Purpose Centred in the discipline of political science, public policy, and institutional governance, this book examines a central albeit often neglected aspect of government science and public policy – namely, the changing policy-institutional nature of federal S&T laboratories and agencies. It is written for readers interested in this key historical and contemporary area of modern government and science – an audience that includes students of politics and public policy; scientists and research managers; and policy scholars, officials, and practitioners in the public and private sectors involved in the innovation debate. Though it examines many key strategic choices and challenges in the context of S&T policy and innovation, it also deals fundamentally with a broader set of issues relating to the role of governments versus markets and to the provision of public versus private goods. Covering roughly the past twenty years, this book examines strategic science in the public interest by analysing (a) the shifts and struggles over the provision of S&T-based public goods and (b) the commercialization/innovation agenda, coupled with (c) a sustainable development paradigm, played out in (d) a governance context of budget constraints, management reforms and fads, and (e) crucial changes in the regulation of health, safety, and the environment. By ‘government science’ we refer to all of the ways in which the state funds, supports, regulates, conducts, and applies S&T activities. This book does not examine government science in its entirety – an enterprise that includes support of academic science through federal granting bodies as well as support of industrial science through tax credits for business R&D, among other initiatives – but it does situate our topic within this broader system and its evolution. The data in the appendix compares Canada with other countries in relation to S&T activities. They show that Canada lags behind other countries in terms of gross domestic expenditures on R&D as a percentage of GDP, business enterprise expenditures on R&D as a percentage of GDP, and levels of patenting. The federal government aspires to take Canada from fifteenth to fifth in these global league tables, but there is a very long way to go (Canada 2002a; Kinder 2003; Rosenblatt and Kinder 2006). On the other hand, Canada leads on higher education expenditures on R&D as a percentage of GDP – a result that can be directly attributed to the above-mentioned $13 billion in federal spending over the past seven years – spending that can

Introduction 7

be cast broadly as ‘innovation’ policy, but most of which has gone to universities. This book focuses on federal S&T labs and agencies – a smaller subset of government science but an aspect of continuing and indeed growing importance. It tells the more general story of how labs have been studied and how they have been located within and often buried by the larger story revealed initially by the data referred to earlier. To explore federal S&T institutions in a more focused way, we will take a case study approach, examining four labs through a five-part ‘policy menu’ framework consisting of a series of policies that such institutions must interpret and manage. We will also examine four other S&T agencies in a less in-depth, more illustrative fashion to unpack some of the important features regarding the differences between R&D and related science activities (RSA) in government science. R&D refers to ‘creative work undertaken on a systematic basis to increase the stock of knowledge’; RSA refers to ‘activities that complement and extend R&D by contributing to the generation, dissemination, and application of scientific and technological knowledge’ (see below for further discussion of these definitions). Conceptually, the purpose of this book is to build on and critique selected studies of government S&T labs as complex institutions within the broader literature on ‘science and government’ or ‘science and politics.’ This literature inevitably deals with the ongoing choices regarding the provision of public and private goods in S&T policy as well as the need for policymakers to have a strategic sense of what the public interest means when they are making these choices. Overall, this broader literature includes quite macro-level approaches in which science is viewed as an aggregate scientific estate (Price 1965) or as a fifth branch of government (Jasanoff 1990), or is subsumed under a more general discussion of the politics of expertise (Barker and Peters 1993; Bimber 1996). More recently, this quite broad literature has applied more deductive models such as principal-agent theory, and neo-institutionalist models that employ concepts of hierarchy, networks, and markets as institutional forms, as well as other approaches (Guston 2000; Crow and Bozeman 1998; Doern and Levesque 2002; Boden et al. 2004). This latter literature is reviewed and built on in this book. However, the book’s framework for the four case study labs is more inductively derived. That is, it is a middle-level policy and institutional framework derived from a closer look at how S&T labs and agencies function and change as they interpret, respond to, and deflect or mod-

8 Strategic Science in the Public Interest

ify complex mandates and policy/institutional pressures and signals. The book’s examination of RSA also flows from our inductive approach to research on complex science-based regulatory and monitoring institutions (Hood et al. 2001; Doern and Reed 2001). In our approach, the history and path dependency of institutions are important (Peters 1999; Wilson 2000; Kay 2005) as we look at how federal S&T labs and agencies have changed over the past twenty years, with occasional references to other, longer-term forces and factors. Four federal S&T labs are examined as our main empirical case studies (see table I.1). Two of these function within Environment Canada (the Environmental Technology Centre and the National Wildlife Research Centre), and two within the ambit of Natural Resources Canada (the CANMET Mining and Mineral Sciences Laboratory and the CANMET Energy Technology Centre–Devon – an organization whose S&T role focuses on Alberta’s massive oil sands resource). These four S&T labs are mainly R&D-focused institutions, but their work also has some RSA aspects. The book also considers four other federal S&T agencies whose tasks and mandates are dominated more by RSA – that is, by regulatory, monitoring, and service roles. These agencies are the Water Survey of Canada and the New Substances Branch of Environment Canada, and two Health Canada agencies, the Veterinary Drugs Directorate and the Consumer and Clinical Radiation Protection Bureau. This broad range of case studies is necessary to bring out the issues and dynamics of a reasonably representative sample of S&T labs and agencies, which as a whole carry out both R&D and RSA and which span three key science-based federal departmental realms. The case studies are each extremely complex and are embedded in or networked with numerous other parts of the government and with business, universities, and communities in Canada and around the world. The case studies’ range and scope can thus help us generalize to a reasonable extent both ‘across’ the selected S&T labs and agencies and also ‘up’ to the fundamental policy challenges and debates surrounding strategic science. These more generalized findings and conclusions will be brought together in the concluding chapter of the book. The book’s middle-level analytical approach (see chapter 2) to examining the four main case studies focuses on capturing the overlay of values, policies, and demands that the S&T labs and agencies must manage or cope with as government institutions. The illustrative examination of the RSA-focused agencies is also middle-level in nature, in that it probes what RSA actually involves in complex organi-

Table I.1. The four R&D-focused S&T labs ‘at a glance’ Lab

Lab

Lab

Lab

CANMET Energy Technology Centre – Devon, NRCan

CANMET Mining and Mineral Sciences Laboratory (MMSL), NRCan

National Wildlife Research Centre (NWRC), EC

Environmental Technology Centre (ETC), EC

Staff/Budget

Lab

Lab

Lab

– 125 staff in Devon, Alberta – $18.7 million budget

– 157 staff – $14.9 million budget

– 53 staff (FTEs) – $5.5 million budget

– 96 staff – $11 million

Mandate/Mission

Lab

Lab

Lab

Shares mission of larger CANMET Energy Technology Branch which is to: – be a valued public investment in science and technology for a sustainable energy future that benefits all Canadians; – to contribute to using energy wisely; extending the hydrocarbon resource base; increasing the share of alternative fuels and renewable energy; advancing knowledge; contributing to policy development; developing and deploying technologies; and providing specialized products and services. – more specific own mission is to maximize wealth and jobs from the exploitation of Canada’s hydrocarbon energy resources, while minimizing negative environmental impacts; – through focused, cooperative S&T and technology transfer, contribute to a more sustainable hydrocarbon production sector in Canada

– to provide quality research and development services, technology, and sound scientific advice:

– to be the principal source of knowledge and expertise in the federal government on the impact of toxic substances on wildlife and the use of wildlife as indicators of environmental quality, to conduct national surveys and research on migratory birds, and to produce scientific publications on wildlife

– to support the Departmental national and international mandate for environmental protection by:

a) to Canada’s mining, minerals, and related supply industries; and b) to provincial and federal government departments involved in promoting or regulating the industry

a) developing and transferring pollution measurement, prevention, control and remediation knowledge, and new technology in areas related to air pollution and unplanned releases of oil and hazardous materials; and b) providing relevant specialized sampling and analytical expertise and services of the highest standards

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Strategic Science in the Public Interest

zational and interorganizational settings. It must be stressed that the purpose of this book is not to evaluate the performance of government S&T labs and agencies in general, or with respect to the technical aspects of the S&T conducted in our case study institutions in particular. We certainly comment on issues regarding how performance might be judged and debated in the context of strategic public-interest science, but our focus is on understanding the broad nature of change as it relates to these important, diverse, and basically understudied institutions in government science. The analysis as a whole is situated within, and builds upon, two streams of academic literature. One of these centres on science and government (including the deductive models noted above, but others as well), the other on policy, governance, and institutional analysis, including studies in the fields of natural resources, the environment, and health policy. Thus the book addresses a broad set of policy values, issues, and challenges in situations where S&T, innovation, and commercialization agendas are brought to bear on substantive policy fields, in both national and regional settings. In addition to the academic literature, the book is based on a review of numerous government reports and publications by the case study labs and agencies and by other labs and agencies to which we refer. In this sense the methodology uses a discursive approach to the study of institutions (Hay 2002). We look closely at what the agencies say about themselves in their own public materials and also at broader federal studies on government science. These sources are complemented by the authors’ interviews over the past four years with more than eighty officials and S&T personnel in the labs and in the broader S&T policy community of the federal government. These interviews were conducted on a confidential, not-for-individual-attribution basis to provide the authors with a better understanding of the functions and dynamics of the S&T labs and agencies than could be obtained from published sources. The interviews were with people involved at all levels of the labs and agencies concerned. The research also draws on the authors’ own past published research on science, governance, and regulatory matters (Doern and Levesque 2002; Kinder 2003; Doern and Reed 2000; Doern and Kinder 2002). Key Themes Four key themes and lines of argument are developed and discussed in this book. First, we explain why a middle-level approach to analysis is

Introduction 11

necessary for this realm of strategic public-interest-centred government science. Second, we show why it is important to understand how diverse federal S&T labs and agencies are, and why this diversity must be reflected in S&T policy (in contrast to a ‘one size fits all’ approach). Third, we make the case for the importance of RSA as a particularly unique yet underemphasized feature of government science and public goods provision in the modern economy and society. Fourth and finally, we argue for changes in the overall governance and accountability of S&T labs and agencies, especially as an approach to discussing the core trade-offs between commercial and public goods science in their mandates and their internal capacities. Our analysis of the relevant literature on science and politics and on government labs and knowledge production is intended to show that although these studies are valuable in their own terms, they do not easily or fully allow for an understanding of the variety of real-world government S&T labs and agencies. This is true both for studies that are quite deductive in nature and for more inductive ones, some of which are ‘biographies’ of individual institutions. We also show that past federal government studies, while useful in relating an evolving policy story, have far too great a tendency to take a simple ‘black box’ approach to government labs combined with policy prescriptions wedded to the above-noted ‘one size fits all’ imperative. Our analysis of R&D versus RSA seeks to bring out the extent to which the broader RSA story has been underplayed analytically, and also the ways in which RSA in particular involves service-like activities and complex interactions and roles in regulatory product approval processes compared to science-based monitoring activities. The analysis seeks to emphasize the importance of variety by showing that though S&T labs and agencies are all similarly smallish in size and broadly focused on R&D and/or RSA; at the same time they are all embedded in their various parent departments and thus are subject to differing mandates and policy pressures. S&T labs and agencies are not normally areas of departmental work to which ministers and senior departmental managers pay continuous attention. And a lab’s parent department is in turn only one of thirty-five or so federal departments and hundreds of related boards, commissions, and structures in a large and complex government, all of which are competing for political attention and resources. In such an environment, S&T labs may emphasize differentiation over solidarity. Variety also begins with the actual subject matter and range of S&T in the lab, and hence with the

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Strategic Science in the Public Interest

core S&T disciplines and competences of the agencies, such as those required for wildlife research (for one example), and the Alberta oil sands (for another). The book’s analysis shows that RSA constitutes one-half of the federal government’s S&T enterprise but is the concern of more than half its S&T personnel; indeed, for some departments, RSA is of the order of 75 per cent of S&T efforts. We show how, in terms of official federal definitions, RSA far too often seems left in a residual category – not ‘R,’ and not ‘D,’ but somehow still involving science. Moreover, we argue that the designation ‘related scientific activities’ means that the question is not automatically answered as to what RSA is and to what it is related. Far from being an afterthought or something that is simply ‘not R&D,’ RSA is in many important respects the core of government S&T. Without the S&T knowledge embodied in RSA-focused personnel and agencies, the federal government (and by extension provincial governments) would not have the capacity they must have to regulate, monitor, and manage risks in the public interest. Our arguments about the overall governance and accountability of federal S&T labs and agencies centre on the core mandate choices regarding the commercial role versus the S&T lab’s role as a provider of public goods. Both roles are ‘in the public interest’; but in a simple sense they inevitably lead to clashes, largely because the state itself must play both roles and foster both kinds of public interest values. In our view, these institutions are in a very real sense working assets, forms of political-economic-environmental capital. As with all forms of capital, these assets can be supported and invested in, or they can be dissipated and allowed to decline through benign or deliberate neglect – in short, through a failure to think and act strategically. Accordingly, we argue that both Parliament and the federal government need more systematic information about this stock of government science and better venues in which to discuss it and to debate these core trade-offs in strategic mandates. The ultimate reason – other than normal democratic ones – for such enhanced accountability is that better accountability and better political forums for discussion are ultimately needed to help reach ongoing and always difficult judgments as to what levels of resources and capacity are necessary to sustain these crucial assets and functions in a modern economy and society. In brief, S&T labs and agencies are not all there are to government science; nor, perhaps, do they play as dominant a role in Canada’s science and innovation system as they once

Introduction

13

did. Nonetheless, they are a much more vital part than has been acknowledged in recent years. Core Concepts and Definitions Several concepts and definitions are central to this book and are set out briefly in this section. Each will be revisited throughout the book’s analytical journey. While we will often employ S&T laboratory or ‘lab’ as a shorthand term in this book, in fact each time the word is used the reader must think of it as an S&T lab and agency. This is because for many, the word ‘lab’ may evoke the image of S&T personnel performing R&D work – particularly ‘bench science’ – through the use of laboratory equipment and fixed S&T assets. Though this is a crucial task, in reality most of the S&T case study labs and other illustrative agencies examined in the book are providers of funding, brokers of funding and expertise, suppliers of science-based policy advice and technical information to support regulation, and ongoing monitors of health, environmental, and ecosystem processes and changes. Science and technology (S&T) policy refers to general government policies to encourage, support, and manage the development of the national scientific enterprise and the education and training of S&T personnel. S&T policy also promotes and governs the use of scientific and technical knowledge ‘in’ public policy and regulation where governments need to draw on their own internal S&T or the S&T capacities of others in order to carry out their responsibilities under laws, rules, and international agreements, especially in public interest areas such as the environment and health and safety policy and regulation (that is, science in policy). See Brooks (1964) and Doern (1972) for more on the distinction between ‘policy for science’ and ‘science in policy’. Research and development or ‘R&D’ (scientific research and experimental development) is defined as ‘creative work undertaken on a systematic basis to increase the stock of knowledge including the knowledge of humans, their culture and society, and the use of this knowledge to devise new applications’ (Canada 2002b, 26). In R&D there is an important element of novelty or uncertainty in the results. The federal government’s definition of R&D is drawn from the main global reference, the OECD’s Frascati Manual, which was published initially in 1963 and has since been revised several times following various assessments of it set against the changing evolution of S&T and S&T outputs.

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Strategic Science in the Public Interest

Related science activities (RSA) is defined as ‘activities that complement and extend R&D by contributing to the generation, dissemination, and application of scientific and technological knowledge’ (ibid., 26). Federal documents then go on to define the subgroupings of RSA by field of science – namely, ‘natural sciences: scientific data collection, information services, special services and studies, and education support: and social sciences: general purpose data collection, information, services, special services and studies, education support’ (ibid., 26). RSA is often crucially embodied in the education, training, and experience of scientific and technical personnel working on the front lines of monitoring activity and of various kinds of regulatory product approvals (Doern 2004). In the government of Canada, S&T investments consist of the sum total of investment in R&D and RSA. Innovation policies or strategies refer to government policies aimed at fostering the use of the best S&T to produce new and competitive ‘first-to-market’ products and new production processes, and the innovative organizational approaches and management practices that support these activities. In Canada and elsewhere there is an increasing tendency for governments to subsume S&T policies under broader innovation policies in their efforts to maximize the contributions of S&T to competitiveness in the global, knowledge-based economy. We will be exploring the implications of this tendency for government S&T labs and agencies. National systems of innovation (NSIs) and the related concepts of local/ regional systems of innovation and clusters refer to an idea or paradigm for conceptualizing national and local S&T and innovation activities and effectiveness as the products of complex, non-linear interactions among a range of institutions in any national or regional/spatial political economy, including interactions among universities, corporations, governments, capital markets, systems of regulation, and informed consumerism (Nelson 1993; Wolfe 2002, 2003). Policies on commercialization refer to targeted efforts to ensure that new innovative products, processes, and patented inventions are financed, produced, marketed, and sold successfully in Canadian and global markets. As we discuss later, such policies can be seen as particular extensions of innovation policies (indeed, of S&T policies), or as policy fields and focuses in their own right. As many have pointed out, the boundaries of commercialization policies are not always easily differentiated from those of other policy categories (Lougheed 2004; Enzing et al. 2004; Kilcrease 2004).

Introduction

15

Science as a public good, or public interest science, refers to S&T carried out in such a way that property rights cannot or should not be appropriated by private or individual owners. Various kinds of basic or broad predevelopmental research can be characterized as a public good in this sense, but so also might S&T carried out to support regulatory tasks by the state be characterized as public interest science. These concepts have also been debated in terms of the funding of government S&T labs and agencies – for example, in terms of whether they should be funded ‘in the public interest’ by taxpayer revenues or by user fees (which implies the existence of specific private benefits for which private users ought to be charged). The ‘public interest’ is always a contentious concept politically because it can also imply diverse notions of majoritarian representative democracy, stakeholder interest group democracy, and NGO and civil society notions of democracy, participation, and decision making in institutions. Steps taken to support businesses or markets are often viewed as being de facto not examples of public interest activity, but such views are increasingly being challenged by those who see well-functioning markets and job-producing firms as being activities very much in the public interest. The federal S&T system refers to the array of federal departments, agencies, granting councils, foundations, funding bodies, programs, and other entities that either conduct S&T or fund such activities in universities, businesses, and the voluntary sector (Doern 2003). The book’s focus is on federal S&T labs and agencies, but links with this broader array of institutions will be referred to throughout. Structure and Organization The structure of this book is fairly straightforward. Part One provides the history, academic context, and analytical approach for the analysis. Part Two examines the four R&D-focused case study labs and the four illustrative RSA-focused agencies. In Part One, chapter 1 examines the study of government S&T labs and agencies as institutions first in relation to recent literature on science and government. The chapter also critiques past federal policy studies of Canadian S&T labs and agencies and critically examines the need to differentiate R&D from RSA in the study of S&T labs and agencies. Chapter 2 then sets out the key elements of our approach for the four R&D-focused labs as a way of improving on past analyses that did not

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sufficiently factor in and recognize the variety and diversity of the policy menus that labs had to respond to and interpret. It does so by constructing two initial mappings of S&T labs and agencies, the first a stylized hierarchical and quasi-principal-agent map, the second a descriptive map of the broad array of functions and tasks that can potentially be carried out by or imposed on an S&T lab or agency. Chapter 2 also previews the approach taken to our single-chapter examination of four RSA-focused agencies. The core part of chapter 2 is our five-part policy menu framework. This five-part framework centres on labs as managers and interpreters of a partially reinforcing and partially conflicting policy menu. This menu comprises: (1) S&T/innovation/commercialization policies; (2) sustainable development and environmental policies; (3) parent department mandates and changing political economic contexts and pressures; (4) macro and micro budgetary management policies, including fiscal policy per se, expenditure choices, personnel policy, lab capacity, and changing managerial views such as advocacy of the new public management; and (5) changing policy-driven linkages with, and pressures from, business, universities, other federal departments, other governments, and communities. Part Two provides the empirical cases and analyses of the four labs, two each from Environment Canada and Natural Resources Canada, as well as the RSA-focused agencies and issues. Chapters 3 and 4 focus on the two NRCan labs, one centred in Ottawa and the other in Devon, Alberta. Chapters 5 and 6 likewise examine the two Environment Canada labs, both based in Ottawa but with extensive national and regional networks and roles. In each of these chapters we look first at the labs’ mandates and institutional history and their changing overall priorities, and then focus on the labs as managers and interpreters of a national policy menu. But we also show how these policies cascade out and across the labs’ changing linkages and relations with other players. Chapter 7 examines the four illustrative RSA-focused agencies and the nature of RSA compared to R&D. Chapter 8 offers our conclusions on the key themes and on the overall debate about Canadian government S&T labs and agencies.

PART ONE Historical Context and Analytical Framework

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1 Government S&T Labs and Agencies as Institutions: Towards Middle-Level Approaches

This chapter examines government S&T labs and agencies as institutions and broadly begins to make the case for the middle-level approaches employed in the book as a whole – approaches that will be set out in greater detail in chapter 2. The purpose of this chapter is to situate government S&T labs and agencies in this institutional debate, first in a comparative context and then by examining other studies of S&T labs and agencies in Canada and also in relation to a further analysis of the contrasting roles of R&D versus RSA in the functioning of S&T labs and related bodies. The analysis is organized into four sections. First, we relate this book to the relevant comparative literature on science and government, including some that is explicitly about government laboratories, especially American and British laboratories. We do not directly compare Canadian S&T labs and agencies with a similar subset of American or British government S&T labs and agencies at the case study level. But we do need to relate our analysis to the literature that emanates from these other jurisdictions or that suggests general relevance to Canada. Second, we survey past policy studies of Canadian federal S&T labs and agencies and examine their focal points, strengths, and weaknesses. In the third section we examine the institutional implications of R&D versus RSA activities in the core dynamics of S&T labs and agencies as institutions. Conclusions then follow about why a middle-level approach is needed to complement existing approaches in understanding S&T labs and agencies as complex institutions.

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The Recent Evolution of Science and Government Analytical Perspectives While there have been many analyses of Canadian science policy,1 and some case studies of individual science establishments,2 it is not at all clear that government laboratories and agencies as institutions have been examined systematically in Canada. In fact, as this chapter shows, very often policy studies refer only to a concept of ‘government science’ disembodied from the institutions in which it is performed. To the extent that laboratories have been a focus of attention, they have tended to be treated unidimensionally, with no notion that some labs and agencies might function well in some roles (such as technology transfer to industry), whereas others might perform well in fulfilling different roles (such as directed basic research, RSA) related to regulation and monitoring. Similarly, as organizations, government laboratories and agencies have been treated as ‘black boxes’ with little examination of their internal structure and external relationships. Canada is not alone in this regard. An American study reveals that while public policies affecting government research laboratories typically treat them as simple, homogeneous, and stable, there is in fact a remarkable diversity and complexity in these institutions (Crow and Bozeman 1998). The authors describe how the dominant framework for S&T policymaking has been based on sector – government, industry, or university – with long-standing stereotypical roles ascribed to the laboratories in each sector: ‘Universities are seen as the bastion of fundamental research, industry as the home of commercially related, applied, and development research, and while the government lab stereotype is a bit more murky, government labs are often viewed as sites for supporting national research missions, especially in weapons, energy, space, and agriculture’ (ibid., 14). The authors do not contend that this sectoral distinction is no longer reasonable or useful – only that something more is needed. Linkages across sectors and among

1 Examples include Mackenzie (1964); Lamontagne (1970); Doern (1972); Hayes (1973); Task Force (1984); de la Mothe (2000); and numerous reports of various science advisory bodies such as the Science Council of Canada, the National Advisory Board on Science and Technology, and the Council of Science and Technology Advisors. 2 Examples include Thistle (1966); Zaslow (1975); Eggleston (1978); Bothwell (1988); Jarrell and Gingras (1991); and Doern and Levesque (2002).

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networks of laboratories are becoming increasingly evident and important. Some of the labs are ‘hybrids’ in which public and private ownership and sources of funding are so complicated as to defy classification by increasingly overstretched sector-based categories (ibid.). Even among the purely public-sector laboratories there can be a remarkable degree of institutional diversity. According to a study of the British system, ‘There is an enormous diversity in the types of organizations which could be referred to as “public sector research laboratories” in the UK science and technology system. This diversity covers not only the areas of specialism but also factors such as size, ownership details, locations, organizational issues and relationships with industry and with other parts of the S&T infrastructure’ (Beesley et al. 1998, 129). One would expect this diversity to be recognized and reflected in public policy and policy studies relating to government laboratories. Yet as this chapter shows, such has not been the case in Canada. Without a better understanding of the roles and institutional design of government laboratories, ‘policy makers continue to pour fuel into the innovation engine without regard to the engine’s structure, fuel requirements, or on-road performance’ (Crow and Bozeman 1998, 13). Another key approach aimed initially at specifying institutional links is the one provided by David Guston (1996; 2000). His analysis employs the economists’ principal–agent theory to characterize the relationships between science and politics. These relationships are cast as a sort of social contract centred on obligations relating to productivity and integrity. This approach is then applied and examined at a quite broad level of American science policy. Guston examines why it is important to see the overall relations between science and politics as a social contract between principal and agent; he then analyses the knowledge asymmetries between lay politicians/bureaucrats and S&T experts, and explores the two overall dimensions of the performance expected from the latter – namely, productivity in a broad economic sense and integrity in how the S&T is conducted and managed. He also discusses the important role of, and need for, boundary organizations in managing the core relationships of this social contract and in maintaining some reasonable institutional space for the contract to work. This is a valuable approach. However, as a deductive approach it essentially creates a policy-institutional framework based on a two-category policy world (productivity and integrity). Government labs as institutions are not the particular focal point of Guston’s work; that said, some of the principal–agent concepts are certainly useful, and we

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will examine them further in chapter 2, where we map basic linkages between labs and their parent departments. Principal–agent theory has of course been applied in any number of areas of public policy and regulation, so it is not surprising that it is coming into broader use in S&T policy. Scholars such as Dietmar Braun speak of the tensions inherent in the delegation problems that beset principal–agent relations (Braun 2003). As we will see, these delegation problems are also embedded in the framework employed in this book. Others speak of the need for intermediation roles and strategies or – as noted earlier – the need for boundary organizations lodged in some sense between politicians as principals and scientists as agents (van der Meulen 2003). In many senses, principal–agent theory and delegation issues are simply two more approaches to examining a very old problem that has been a part of the literature on public policy and administration for decades as complex institutions grapple with how to make and implement policies and how to work with and service diverse clients in a democratic setting (Hill 2005; Lane 2000). Other approaches are also productive in some senses. For example, Gibbons and colleagues (1994) approached science and policy issues from a higher, more abstract level by describing a social transformation of all knowledge-producing institutions. This and related work differentiated between so-called Mode 1 and Mode 2 systems of knowledge production, with Mode 1 roughly referring to familiar academic, hierarchical, and traditional peer review approaches and Mode 2 highlighting emerging networked, flexible, and interdisciplinary approaches with their much broader notions of peer review (Gibbons 2000). While not particularly concerned with government labs per se, the authors pointed out that advanced science systems are evolving towards greater heterogeneity, pluralism, and fuzziness of boundaries (between public and private, between knowledge producers and knowledge users, between natural and social sciences, and so on). In particular, the authors describe a shift in the modes of funding and institutional designs of knowledge-producing institutions and an increasing emphasis on, and new approaches to ensuring, public accountability for these institutions. Studies of S&T labs and institutions have employed other useful approaches besides these. A recent study of the NRC’s evolution over the past twenty years applied a generic ‘hierarchies, networks, and markets’ framework to capture how that organization had evolved into a complex government science agency – indeed, into a veritable holding company of diverse research institutes (Doern and Levesque

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2002). At the other end of the analytical spectrum, another recent study examined three federal labs at the level of individuals and their capacities and incentives to innovate (Rosenblatt 2004). It focused on the individual researcher-employee but also made some links to the capacity of S&T labs and agencies to foster innovation and to champion individuals and reward their innovation ideas and behaviour. The analysis in this book also builds on a recent analysis of British labs (Boden et al. 2004). This study also employs a middle-level framework and is interested in how labs respond to complex policy and institutional imperatives. It focuses on the impacts of the new public management (NPM) on British government labs, but it also relates these impacts to changes in knowledge production processes in S&T. However, it does not examine case study labs in any great depth; rather, it reports on overall impacts, with brief discussions of relevant examples. NPM and issues of knowledge production are certainly a part of our approach in this book, but we seek to extend the middlelevel analysis by utilizing a policy menu framework that we think is closer analytically and empirically to the actual underlying situations that labs face and must manage. We also apply it in some depth to the four R&D-focused case study labs. A further key conceptual building block for this book’s approach comes from the literature on science-based regulatory regimes and related risk-regulation regimes and institutions (Hood, Rothstein, and Baldwin 2001; Doern and Reed 2000). Government science in its R&D and RSA activities must serve multiple regulatory institutions and monitoring bodies. Accordingly, it must traverse and serve complex subsystems within science-based regulatory regimes in Canada and elsewhere – regimes that include subsystems devoted to product approvals, to post-market monitoring, to compliance activity, and to standard setting and rule making per se. This literature feeds into aspects of our R&D-focused lab case studies as well as into our more illustrative studies of RSA-focused agencies. Another stream of literature, dominated by historians, provides very useful histories of the development of science within given countries. Many of these histories are discipline-based and so may only tangentally address government laboratories and agencies.3 Others, however,

3 Discipline-based examples include H.M. Tory (1939); Alex Ignatieff (1981); and Richard A. Jarrell (1988).

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approach government science through the lens of individual institutions by providing what can be referred to as ‘biographies of institutions.’4 According to Crease (1999), such works often emphasize (a) the science advanced by an institution, (b) the personalities of key individuals and their influence on the institution, or (c) the institutions’ major research instruments (such as reactors and accelerators) – often with a tone bordering on reverence. Many of these works are official or quasiofficial histories or of the ‘memoirs’ variety, written by someone long associated with the institution and therefore limited in their potential for objective or comparative analysis. Nevertheless, Peterson (1980, 134) has written about the importance of this stream: ‘Only after the accumulation of a substantial technological base, and the training of an entire generation of research scientists in the techniques of the various branches of laboratory science, did innovation become a real possibility in Canadian science. The history of scientific laboratories is, therefore, an important part of the history of Canadian science, and the biographies of laboratories are as important as the biographies of scientists.’ Indeed, these historical biographies can yield important insights into the characteristics of public laboratories. For example, Castonguay (2000) highlights the important role that some Canadian labs have played in advancing fundamental knowledge and the training of researchers, particularly in new fields of study. While studies within this stream make important contributions, they are handicapped in their relevance to S&T policy by their lack of an explicit policy focus. The emphasis on individual laboratories (particularly of the NRC) provides important but ultimately isolated insights. As Crow and Bozeman (1998, 238) caution, in case study approaches ‘more is known, but about less.’ The sheer number of government laboratories militates against an approach to public policy that would require detailed case studies of each and every laboratory. In this book, case studies are used, but they are informed by a middle-level approach that goes into somewhat greater depth beyond the useful simplicity of Guston’s valuable approach, and beyond Boden and colleagues’ NPM-focused analysis,

4 Canadian examples in this category include Robert Bothwell (1988); W.H. Cook (1977); Wilfrid Eggleston (1978); R.H. Haskins (1984); Christy Vodden (1992); and Morris Zaslow (1975). American examples include Robert P. Crease (1999); N.S. Furman (1990); J.L. Heilbron and R.W. Seidel (1989); and J.M. Holl (1997).

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by utilizing a five-factor policy menu framework and also by examining the nature of and differences between R&D and RSA. S&T policy in Canada has been hampered by a reliance either on (a) broadly applied, macro-level abstractions regarding the roles and designs of laboratories – abstractions that flow from market failure arguments, or (b) micro-level case studies, which by their nature provide insufficiently realistic and overly simplified typologies or taxonomies. A middle path is needed. But before suggesting such an approach in chapter 2, we need to examine other analyses of federal laboratories as well as the R&D versus RSA question. Review of Analyses of Federal Laboratories In this section we review a sample of the key policy studies that have shaped Canadian S&T policy since the 1960s. This will be done in an attempt to illuminate which models or assumptions, explicit or implicit, have been employed with respect to the roles and institutional designs of government laboratories and agencies. As we will see, the studies do not always deal with laboratories per se. In fact, very often these studies refer only to a concept of ‘government S&T’ disembodied from the institutions in which it is performed. This is itself a part of the problem. To the extent that such studies do identify the performers of government S&T, all public research organizations by and large are grouped under the common banner of ‘government laboratories.’ The notion that some government laboratories might function well in some roles while others might perform well in fulfilling different roles is almost never reflected. As a consequence, recommendations for change have reflected a very unidimensional understanding of government laboratories and agencies. Early Efforts, 1960s–1970s The Royal Commission on Government Organization (the Glassco Commission), established in 1960, was charged with reporting on the organization and operations of the Canadian government. As part of its broad examination, the commission undertook what many analysts agree was the first ever comprehensive review of Canadian science policy. As such, the report’s findings and recommendations dealt primarily with high-level science policy machinery and the need to reorganize federal science activities. The commission’s report initiated an

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active policy debate, as indicated by the many science policy studies that emerged in the following decades. This level of attention would lead, eventually, from questions of high-level policy machinery to analyses of the government’s role in S&T. The Science Council of Canada (SCC), which was founded in 1966, was active in this debate, and two of its many studies are highlighted here. In a 1968 report titled Towards a National Science Policy for Canada, the SCC recommended that any new government R&D initiative be reviewed carefully to identify the appropriate performer, be it in academe or private industry (Science Council of Canada 1968, 23). The report also asserted that more of the R&D performed in government laboratories should be contracted out (ibid., 24). As we will see, this would become a consistent theme in Canadian science policy studies. A later SCC report (1979) concerned itself with ‘the inadequate linkage between the market place and much of the research conducted in this country.’ The study outlined the roles of government R&D and why and when it should be performed. With respect to the specific function of facilitating technology transfer, the council found that industry often criticized federal laboratories as being unaware of market pressures and of the innovation and commercialization needs of industry. However, the study went on to suggest that ‘the major weakness of the technology transfer process may lie in the poverty of industrial attitudes to the government research institutions, the failure to fully appreciate the missions of the laboratories; the absence of persistent association with the government research community; and, in general, the low level of demand pull by industry on government research’ (Science Council of Canada 1979, 24; emphasis added). In this study we see the first example of a more nuanced view of the role that government laboratories should play with respect to industry. Task Force on Federal Policies and Programs for Technology Development (1984) In the late 1970s and early 1980s the S&T policy agenda was being driven largely by the energy crises and increasing economic stagnation. The major policy studies of this period5 reflected a shift away

5 See for example, Science Council of Canada (1979) and Ministry of State for Science and Technology (1983).

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from the science policy studies of the earlier period, which tended to focus on government structures, towards industrial technology policies that would provide support and incentives to increase industry’s ability to develop and absorb new technologies. With regard to government laboratories, the perennial concern for scientific excellence was now being complemented with increasing concern for the relevance and utility of government S&T to improve Canada’s economic competitiveness. An important exception to the relative inattention to government laboratories and agencies during this period was the creation in 1984 of a task force to examine the status of federal promotion of technological development. Chaired by Doug Wright, then president of the University of Waterloo, this task force examined key issues regarding the performance of federal laboratories, including their function, goals, outputs, and relations with industry. The Wright Report was sharply critical of federal laboratory management, citing a ‘growing atmosphere of irrelevance and an excessively bureaucratic management style’ (Task Force 1984, 25). It argued that management practices should be more flexible to allow laboratories to be more responsive to market forces. It noted that lab managers should be more accountable to their clientele and recommended that each laboratory have a board of directors, with representation from the private sector. Among the Wright Report’s other recommendations: the federal government should undertake a review of all federal laboratories to demonstrate their relevance and usefulness; it should make greater use of the ‘GOCO’ (government-owned, contractor-operated) model of laboratory management; and it should develop an incentive system to allow government scientists to bring their ideas to the market and reward those researchers and managers who created links with industry (ibid., 41–2). National Advisory Board on Science and Technology, 1987–1995 The National Advisory Board on Science and Technology (NABST) was appointed by the Mulroney government to provide broad external advice on S&T issues. As will be apparent, NABST reports tended to reflect the Conservative government’s emphasis on market-based approaches. Its industry-oriented perspective on the role of government S&T likely reflected the predominance of private-sector members on most of NABST’s working committees. There is little doubt that in

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their study processes, NABST members became aware of the complexity of federal labs and of government S&T, but little of this complexity was allowed to get in the way of their recommendations. industry committee report (1988) In February 1988 the NABST Industry Committee submitted its report to Prime Minister Mulroney, who had asked the committee to recommend approaches to enhancing the effectiveness of industry–university–government collaboration. In response to this question, the committee addressed the roles and (at least tangentally) the institutional design of government laboratories. To set the context for the committee’s recommendations, the report briefly traced the history of government S&T in Canada. The committee argued that Canada had placed ‘an emphasis on government support to government laboratories and basic research in universities, creating surrogates for an inadequate industrial research base’ (NABST 1988). The report explained: ‘In some resource sectors, fragmented industrial structures provided the rationale for a coordinated research effort on the part of government. In the emerging technology sectors, the sheer lack of a corporate base or presence also reinforced a rationale for establishing government labs. Moreover, the relatively large scale of government research over time creates an inertia and bias toward doing more and more in-house research’ (ibid., 9). As part of its study, the committee also drew ‘lessons from abroad’ regarding the roles played by the various S&T sectors in other countries. Intriguingly, the committee found that ‘although relatively welldefined institutional roles exist in most of the countries studied, all are endeavouring to build flexibility into their systems ... They are also seeking ways to integrate organizations more effectively and use these linkages as important competitive tools’ (ibid., 11; emphasis added). Curiously, however, the committee immediately ignored this important finding when in the next paragraph it asserted that there was an ‘acute need for clarifying Canadian roles’ along traditional sectoral lines. In an effort to reassert the ‘appropriate roles’ for each S&T sector, the committee suggested the following with respect to government research: ‘Government research, except that dedicated to clearly defined public missions like environmental protection, setting standards and defence, must increasingly be tied to an industrial client base. It must be driven by market needs and specific long-

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term national missions ... The resource allocation bias should be toward industry for both existing and possible new resources’ (ibid., 11). The report held up government laboratories as ‘an important Canadian resource’ that was too often cast as ‘a capability in search of a client.’ It then asserted that government laboratories ‘cannot work to their full effect unless there is a dedicated and determined industrial capability that sets the expectations and standards for performance.’ The committee emphasized that in order to fulfil this industry-serving role, resources allocated by government for in-house R&D needed to be shifted towards industry-based R&D. This realignment to an industrial support mission, it recognized, would mean ‘some existing activities could be shut down and S&T workers displaced.’ Consequently, the committee called for adjustment mechanisms to help these workers move ‘to areas of growing R&D activity – especially in industry’ (all quotes in this paragraph: ibid., 16). To be fair, this report was addressing government’s ‘industrial related research,’ which suggests that the committee recognized that the government was performing other kinds of research as well. However, the report paid only limited (even cursory) attention to the ‘public good’ roles of government laboratories. This left readers with the quite distorted view that the primary role of government laboratories and government scientists is to serve industrial clients. This report also discussed the impact of technology on organizational change. New technologies were altering the skills that organizations required; they were also creating pressures for new ways of designing jobs and structuring decision-making processes. ‘Traditional hierarchical relationships,’ the report stated, ‘do not provide the best organizational context for making the most of the new technologies’ (ibid., 50). In summary, this report provided an important contribution to the debate on government laboratories and at least hinted at the beginnings of a deeper understanding of the importance of organizational design issues. revitalizing s&t in the government of canada: report of the committee on federal s&t expenditures (the lortie report), 1990 This NABST committee, chaired by Pierre Lortie, was mandated to evaluate the management and performance of S&T activities in government. It found that outdated and ‘seriously deficient’ operating and

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administrative policies were presenting ‘significant obstacles’ to federally performed S&T, leading to low morale and a questioning of the value of government S&T (NABST 1990). It argued that the S&T organizations required more focused mandates and improved management practices and that their overhead must become less bureaucratic and costly. Interestingly, this committee contended that federal S&T establishments must develop their own identity, separate from their parent department, in order to pursue quality work. It argued that because the laboratories were thoroughly integrated into departmental planning and budgeting systems, they were being forced to expend considerable energies to retain their unique S&T-conducive culture (NABST 1990, 8–9). The recommendations that flowed from these findings were that each department should transfer its R&D establishments into one departmental S&T institute, with a chief executive officer and board of directors. The S&T institutes were to depend on revenues from their parent departments for their operating funds, but this was to be based on contractual relationships in order to increase the links between departmental objectives and S&T services. The new management structure was intended to provide greater authority to the institutes regarding relations with the department, intellectual property frameworks, the setting of fees, and so on. However, the new structure would also create a rigorous evaluation system, one based on peer review, that would ensure that institutes continued to meet international standards for excellence (ibid., 99–120). This proposed client– contractor approach reflected the NPM reforms that were popular during this period. The NPM reforms sought to import private-sector management techniques into the public sector in order to improve efficiency and effectiveness. Privatization and other market-oriented approaches, the devolution of authority to lower levels, and the search for new mechanisms to ensure accountability were all elements of the NPM movement. The S&T Review, the Federal S&T Strategy, and the CSTA, 1994–present In the summer and autumn of 1994, the Chrétien government undertook a comprehensive review of federal S&T. The NABST was asked to assess the results of the public consultations and interdepartmental studies that had been undertaken as part of the S&T review, and to provide advice on the direction and structure of a federal S&T strategy.

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healthy, wealthy and wise: a framework for an integrated federal science and technology strategy (1995) In formulating a framework for such a strategy, the NABST posited that the rapidly changing global environment called for ‘new ways of conceptualizing S&T, new ways of performing S&T, new ways of governing it, and new ways of evaluating outcomes’ (NABST 1995, 5). Thus, while it asserted that ‘the federal role in performing S&T should be smaller and more focussed’ (ibid., iv), it also believed that ‘the federal government should promote partnerships and collaboration among S&T stakeholders’ (ibid., vi). Here we begin to see an increasing awareness of government laboratories as actors within a system or network of knowledge-producing institutions, and of the importance of interaction among these institutions. Consider, for example, the following statement: ‘The government needs to identify areas of current federal research that could more effectively be conducted either in university or industry laboratories, or that could be done collaboratively’ (ibid., 73; emphasis added). Whereas the first part of the statement could easily have been lifted from any one of the previous NABST (and earlier) reports, the last part of the sentence signalled a significant change in tone. Other reports had paid lip service to the need for collaboration and partnerships; this report included as a recommendation that government should ‘encourage and strengthen strategic collaborative research arrangements among government, university and industrial laboratories and promote cross-sectoral and multidisciplinary partnerships’ (ibid., 76). Such collaboration, the report offered, could include consortiums, participation in centres of excellence, or other collaborative activities. The report also addressed the need to remove certain administrative barriers ‘that frustrate greater understanding, collaboration and cooperation among industry, government and universities’ (ibid., 80). Overall, while much of the report employed familiar rhetoric regarding federal intramural R&D, it also illustrated the beginning of a shift in thinking in S&T policy circles. For example, the overall message regarding government-performed S&T remained that the government should evaluate and justify federal laboratory activities against strategic needs. However, government laboratories were no longer viewed as either irrelevant or simply as instruments to be exploited by industry. Government S&T had something to offer, but rather than simply serving industrial clients, government laboratories would collaborate as partners with other sectors. New organizational arrangements were called for to

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facilitate such intersectoral collaboration. To a greater extent than in previous reports, government laboratories were viewed in the context of their critical role in a national system of innovation as defined in the introduction to this book. Nevertheless, the need to cut federal deficits was about to greatly constrain the funding for government S&T. The laboratories would soon be forced to expend considerable energy justifying their program budgets – and in some cases even their existence. the federal s&t strategy, 1996 At the completion of the Science and Technology Review, the federal government responded by issuing its S&T strategy. Although this strategy did not speak to government laboratories in any great detail, it did reflect the changing context for government science and the shift in thinking towards ‘innovation systems’ that had begun to take hold at that time. Three points raised in the strategy are relevant to our purposes here. First, it emphasized the need to focus on establishing partnerships and networks: ‘What matters most is the exchange of knowledge and information; cooperation among governments, business and universities; and the forging of partnerships for mutual benefit’ (Canada 1996, 4). Second, the strategy recognized that institutions and their organizational arrangement are important: ‘Institutions matter. The institutions that guide and carry out science and technology, and the way they are arranged and function together, can either encourage or impede invention and the exchange of ideas’ (ibid., 15). Finally, echoing a familiar theme, the strategy called for stringent tests of cost effectiveness: ‘The research conducted in federal laboratories should complement rather than duplicate the work carried out by the private sector’ (ibid., 23). building excellence in science and technology (best): the federal roles in performing science and technology, 1999 In 1998, reflecting a commitment made in the S&T Strategy, the federal government established the Council of Science and Technology Advisors (CSTA). The members of this body were drawn from the external advisory bodies that advise individual departments. The CSTA was established to better integrate this advice to improve the management of federal S&T. In its BEST report, the CSTA affirmed a clear need for the federal government to perform S&T and determined that it should have the capacity to deliver on the following roles:

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• support for decision making, policy development and regulations; • development and management of standards; • support for public health, safety, environmental and/or defence needs; and • enabling economic and social development. (CSTA 1999, 15) The CSTA also proposed three fundamental principles – alignment, linkages, and excellence – that it felt should guide the conduct and management of federal S&T. Notions of alignment and excellence had been promoted in past studies; the concept of ‘linkages,’ while not totally new, was developed to a greater extent in the BEST report. The CSTA viewed linkages as a way to ‘ensure that federal S&T capitalizes on the best available inputs, regardless of their source, and that overlap and duplication are minimized’ (ibid., 25). The CSTA explained that its principle of ‘linkages’ went beyond the concept of ‘partnerships’: ‘Linkages result in planning and priority setting being done based on broad stakeholder participation. Linkages draw on the best possible expertise, be it in other federal departments and agencies, universities, the private sector, or even the global pool of knowledge’ (ibid., 25). Significantly, the CSTA recognized that the context for government S&T had changed and was continuing to change. Based on this recognition, it included the following recommendation for government: ‘Implement and fund new models for S&T that move away from a vertical approach to a more horizontal (i.e., across government and the innovation system), competitive, multi-stakeholder approach’ (ibid., 28). One final observation with respect to the BEST report can be made based on the following passage: ‘To become a stronger contributor to the national innovation system, the federal S&T establishment needs a culture change, more flexibility in its operational policies and a renewal of its management systems. Without these changes, further investments in federal S&T capacity will likely not achieve their maximum possible benefit to Canadians’ (ibid., 21). Unfortunately, without good quantitative data, qualitative case studies, or empirically based typologies of government laboratories, the CSTA was forced to treat the ‘federal S&T establishment’ largely as a black box. As such, the CSTA was unable to develop a more complete picture of government laboratories as instruments of Canadian science policy. Like past policy advisory bodies, it was well aware of the existence of diverse labs but had to pitch its policy advice at a very general level.

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knowledge transfer and commercialization in canada’s federal laboratories, 2003 A final study to be noted is one prepared for the Prime Minister’s Advisory Council on Science and Technology (ACST) by R.S. Schillo (2003). This study essentially made the case for a greater commercialization role for federal labs, but it also pointed to some of the institutional barriers to enhancing that role, including the lack of particular capacities to manage patenting, technology transfer, and spin-off company formation. It also noted there were serious gaps in data and indicators that would allow any government to assess performance in these commercialization realms. It also discussed the labs’ ‘contributions to society.’ This is of course important, but the study was quite weak in this respect in that it glossed over the labs’ roles vis-à-vis the government itself as a decision maker by leaping directly to the level of society without reference to the government’s own crucial intermediary need for lab R&D regarding its regulatory and monitoring roles and thus for RSA activity as well. Our survey of policy studies in this section has been necessarily brief. We have sampled reports from a forty-year period in which policy perspectives changed, and hence their particular political contexts need to be appreciated. The authors of these studies were functioning in their own time and place and with different mandates and political influences. Most of the advisory bodies consisted primarily of representatives from outside of government – usually from the business and academic sectors. The issues they raised were important for the ongoing S&T debate in Canada, and their recommendations were made in good faith by knowledgeable people. Also, it must be emphasized that this analysis has relied on the texts of the studies taken at face value. But what reports and studies actually say is important. As we have stressed throughout, there is little doubt that the various bodies and their members and consultants were well aware of the complexity of the system they were examining, but usually this did not have much impact on their policy prescriptions. Indeed, it is doubtful whether any of the studies were based on a full, empirically based look at the federal laboratories as complex institutions. Institutional analysis is different from that which typically informs such policy advisory reports, since such reports flow – as most of these seem to have done – from general advice and relatively quickly derived observations or even received wisdom from those ‘in the know’ in government, business, and academe. Institutional case

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studies built up over time and examining a wide range of government laboratories might lead to the development of an S&T laboratory and agency system typology that could contribute to a better understanding of them practically and conceptually. Thus, our first overall conclusion is that in these studies, federal government laboratories in Canada were not properly examined as real functioning institutions in any thorough manner. Rather, they tended to be viewed under the more general rubric of the public-sector/private-sector dichotomy, and as a result, the reports’ overly simplistic policy frameworks often took on the lustre of assumed current wisdom. The reports examined these institutions as part of policy studies, and thus tended to observe these bodies only at a macro level – as if flying over them at a great height. Also, they were concerned only or mainly with whatever policy challenge or management fashion was dominant at any given time. It is crucial to think about federal S&T laboratories and agencies in a more basic way as complex, changing institutions if the policy and implementation challenges of their complex roles in the early twenty-first century are to be successfully met. They can no longer be viewed as ‘black boxes’ or as simplified implementation arenas that can, will, or should respond uniformly and ‘on cue’ to the latest policy dictates. A second overall conclusion is that the studies as a whole viewed the laboratories as sources of and arenas for commercial innovation if only government policy could, in effect, ‘get the systems and incentives right.’ While this perspective evolved over the examined period, it remains prevalent today: government laboratories have now been cast as critical components of national and regional innovation systems, at a time when governments are pursuing more explicit commercialization agendas. Yet this perspective also often reflects a ‘black box’ mode of thinking that fails to differentiate sufficiently among laboratories or among their various roles. For example, this perspective fails to recognize that the emerging regulatory and risk management pressures may quite properly be pushing some government laboratories to act less as contributors to economic development and more as guardians of public confidence (Hood, Rothstein, and Baldwin 2001; Doern and Reed 2000). Government R&D versus ‘Related Science Activities’ (RSA) Our final analytical task in this chapter is to examine further the distinctions between R&D and RSA in government science labs and agen-

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cies and to draw out why these bodies also counsel the need for a more complex middle-level analytical approach to examining government S&T labs as institutions. R&D and RSA were defined in the introduction to this book and are discussed further below. Our focus in this section of the chapter is more on RSA, in part because this is what the largest proportion of federal scientists actually do. To conceptualize RSA and R&D, we need to discuss further their core definitions, relationships, and boundary problems, as well as where they fit in with federal S&T and innovation policy discourse and action. The federal government’s definition of related science activities (RSA) was provided in the introduction. However, this definition does not relate precisely to the way that RSA is grouped in departments or for reporting to Statistics Canada. In 2000–1 the Government of Canada employed almost 32,000 people in S&T activities. Of these, nearly 13,000 were classified as scientific and professional, and more than 6,000 were engaged in conducting R&D (Canada 2002b, 26). The inference to be drawn is that the larger number of scientific and professional employees (7,000) were engaged in RSA. Those working in R&D (scientific research and experimental development) are defined as those engaged in ‘creative work undertaken on a systematic basis to increase the stock of knowledge including the knowledge of humans, their culture and society, and the use of this knowledge to devise new applications’ (ibid., 26). The federal R&D definitions are drawn from the main global reference, which is the OECD Frascati Manual, first published in 1963 and revised several times since as S&T has evolved (OECD 1963; 1970; 1976; 1989; 1990; 1993; 1994; 1995; 1997). The Oslo Manual of 1970 brought more focus to technological innovation, and the 1995 Canberra Manual dealt with the human resource dimensions of S&T. The 1994 Patents Manual focused on patents, and the 1990 TBP Manual focused on technology balance of payments. A recent paper by Benoit Godin (2004) notes that the original Frascati Manual recognized the importance of RSA for countries, and thus countries were encouraged to collect data on RSA. But he stresses that internationally, ‘numbers on RSA are almost completely unavailable because so few countries collect data on them. Besides Canada and Ireland – among OECD countries – and some developing countries – mainly in Latin America – no country measures RSA today’ (ibid., 4). However, what must be stressed for our purposes in this book is that although most countries do not measure and separate out RSA, they all

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in fact practise it, since they all have science that must serve regulatory and monitoring tasks. Godin goes on to argue that the lack of overall interest in measuring RSA is a classic case of ‘boundary-work: erecting boundaries in order to exclude things considered outside the field’ (ibid., 5). He concedes that there are measurement difficulties involved, but more basically he argues that there are two factors which explain the non-interest in RSA: ideological and political. On the ideological front, he argues that ‘R&D was perceived as a higher order of research. No argument was needed to convince people of this hierarchy. It was taken for granted by almost everybody that “soft” activities like market studies or design, for example, were not R&D’ (ibid., 5). On the political front, Godin argues that the non-interest was due to the ‘need for presenting misleadingly high science and technology performance’ (ibid., 5). In the context of this kind of argument, Canada deserves credit for actually assembling RSA data; however, the analysis in this chapter (and the book as a whole) shows that there are political and presentational reasons why the federal government does not draw attention to RSA in its overall public S&T policy storyline or to RSA’s crucial importance for public-interest ‘science-based’ regulation, which S&T labs and other agencies underpin. The authors of another recent review article have observed that ‘on a theoretical level it is generally agreed that these internal and external enhancements of the Frascati Manual reflect the gradual replacement of the linear concept of innovation with an interactive concept ... Thus R&D is now envisaged as an activity that can take place at any stage of a given innovation process and not just at the beginning. It can also take place independently of any clearly identified innovation process’ (Djellal et al. 2003, 416). Djellal and colleagues go on to stress that the criterion of novelty in the Frascati Manual’s definition of R&D is the core basis for distinguishing R&D from ‘related activities.’ Paragraph 70 of Frascati states that the ‘presence in R&D of an appreciable element of novelty and the resolution of scientific and/or technological uncertainty … is when the solution is not readily apparent to someone familiar with the basic stock of commonly used knowledge and techniques in the area concerned’ (OECD 1993). But notions of novelty are not a clear guide, and for this reason boundary problems arise. To distinguish ‘related’ activities (including RSA) from R&D, the Frascati Manual (OECD 1993) suggests other possible approaches to differentiation, such as by con-

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sidering the nature of project objectives, the methods used, and the type of personnel involved. In Canada’s evolving federal policies for S&T, innovation, and commercialization over the past forty years, very little importance has been assigned to the key role that RSA plays or even to what it actually is. The federal government’s report on federal S&T for 2002 is an example of this status of RSA as an element that functions below the radar of federal S&T policy (Canada 2002b). The report deals with all of the important aspects of S&T and innovation policy but barely mentions RSA. As we noted earlier, the basic statistical chapter in the 2002 report on federal S&T mentions RSA and defines it. This material shows or implies that the larger proportion of federal S&T staff are engaged in RSA activities. Thus in two pages of an eighty-one-page report on federal S&T, RSA gets a direct and an implied mention but then is not dealt with in any other way. At one level, this is simply because the federal government wishes to draw attention to its broader S&T policies. But as a full treatment or understanding of what RSA actually involves, and how crucial it is for understanding federal S&T labs and related institutions, it is woefully inadequate. The previously cited work of Djellal and colleagues is useful again in this R&D-versus-RSA basic mapping context. These authors are ultimately concerned with the need to revise the definitions of R&D in light of the specificities of services (Djellal et al. 2003). Their view of services refers mainly to services in the private sector, in that they draw attention to problems revolving around the relational and triadic nature of service innovation. According to this view, a service comprises of three elements: the customer, the service provider, and the service medium. Service media can include tangible goods, codified information, knowledge, and individuals themselves (ibid., 418). The overall purpose of Djellal and colleagues’ analysis is to argue that the Frascati definitions and those in related manuals reflect an ‘industrialist and technologist’ concept of R&D, one that fails to take into account in their definitions the systematic creation of new knowledge in services. The authors state that they are not seeking a fundamental redefinition but rather a greater recognition of ‘the importance of the social sciences and humanities and of design and development or organizational engineering, the composite nature of projects and so on. Our objective is to attain a certain “psychological” threshold that would mark our emancipation from the still dominant industrialist and technological approaches’ (ibid., 415).

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We cite this specific argument and commentary here because its discussion of services is of some importance for RSA in government S&T labs and agencies. We do not intend to explore services in the private sector, as the Djellal analysis does. That said, it is of analytical interest for government RSA to take up the point that services are highly relational and triadic in nature. If RSA is to be better understood, it is important to grasp the concept of service relationships and various media. This is not to say that the notion of services covers the full domain of action. Government RSA in the form of monitoring activities is strongly service-like, but RSA is also very much a part of regulation, and regulation in turn implies notions of sanctions, compliance, and compulsion. Services, by contrast, tend to evoke notions of some voluntarily chosen benefit. Yet both service-oriented and regulatory activities are relational; and furthermore, they are becoming triadic increasingly in terms of their interactions. And in RSA governmental settings these activities involve service media such as tangible goods, codified information and knowledge, and individuals themselves, including the brains, analytical judgment, and regulatory and monitoring experience of RSA staff. At this point we would re-emphasize that official definitions of RSA view it as related, residually, to R&D. They do not state what it actually is – namely, a crucial aspect of S&T-based monitoring and regulatory activity, which in turn embodies both service-like and compliance-centred activity (Doern and Reed 2000). Service-like activity includes any number of monitoring activities carried out by the various federal labs and science-based agencies (and some provincial and local ones as well). Table 1.1 represents an initial approach to mapping RSA in light of these kinds of varied relations as they play out in the context of the science-based regulation that many labs underpin. As indicated, RSA has two key dimensions: (a) rule-making, product-approval, and compliance and enforcement activities; and (b) monitoring activities of a more service-oriented nature, which, however, often feed into regulatory activities carried out by other levels of government (provincial, local, and international). As indicated, regarding the first dimension, RSA involves staff directly assessing various products or actions in relation to compliance and enforcement in a multitude of discrete cases, situations, and contexts. Often this also involves drafting guidelines for use by client groups and product users among the general public or by employees

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Table 1.1. Core RSA relations in science-based regulation and monitoring RSA for regulation and product approvals – direct assessment by RSA staff of products for approval/use in markets – direct assessments/actions on compliance and enforcement – drafting of guidelines and guideline documents for use by client groups, by users of products in the general public, and by employees of other levels of government – continuous exchange of RSA knowledge with international and foreign regulators RSA for general and post-market monitoring – general and continuous surveys and monitoring – specific or targeted monitoring and reporting (e.g., pharmaco-vigilance) – not regulatory in the first instance, but can prompt, shape, or support regulations by other governments or self-regulation by stakeholders – can produce guidelines and actions which citizens perceive as regulatory in some overall sense of the state as protector of health and safety – involves numerous exchanges of RSA knowledge among staff in other core federal, provincial, and international agencies as well as professional knowledge groups

(professional, technical, general) at other levels of government. This also involves frequent (often daily) exchanges of RSA knowledge and expertise with counterparts in other countries – especially American regulators such as the FDA and EPA, but also international bodies such as the World Health Organization and any number of others. In its second dimension of general and post-market monitoring, RSA involves activities that are not initially regulatory or that may never technically be regulatory in nature. It involves general and ongoing surveys and technical monitoring such as the work carried out by the Water Survey of Canada (Water Survey Program 2003), which we examine further in chapter 7. It can also involve other kinds of specific or targeted monitoring, such as that involved in pharmaco-vigilance programs. While these activities are often not defined as regulatory per se, Canadians may well see them as regulatory in that they are a part of their broad view that government agencies are protecting them in some overall regulatory sense. Moreover, federal RSA monitoring activities may well lead to later rule-making, guideline-setting, or compliance activities by other levels of government, including the provincial, local, and international levels. As with the first dimension of RSA, monitoring-focused RSA involves continuous exchanges of knowledge between RSA staff in core federal agencies and provincial, local, and international knowledge groups and professionals. The above discussion of RSA is of broad policy importance, but it is

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especially important for understanding what various labs actually do. For example, a lab such as the National Wildlife Research Centre has a broad RSA role as well as an R&D role (see chapter 6). The other S&T labs and agencies we discuss in our case studies also play a role in RSA. In chapter 2 we will draw out other RSA versus R&D role dimensions and interactions and examine them as a part of the overall approach we take in this book. Conclusions This chapter has examined government S&T labs as institutions. We have situated government S&T labs and agencies in an institutional debate, first in a comparative analytical context and then by examining other studies of S&T labs and agencies in Canada. We have also further analysed the contrasting roles played by R&D and RSA in the functioning of S&T labs and related bodies, and the need to include RSA in the analysis if we are to achieve a full understanding of government science. All of these analytical features suggest the need for a complementary, middle-level approach to understanding federal S&T labs as institutions. Our analysis of the comparative literature focused on labs and knowledge production and suggested that the analysis and analytical frameworks, while valuable in their own terms, do not provide an appropriate lens for focusing on S&T labs and agencies in a way that can guide federal S&T policies. This is true both for studies that are quite deductive in nature and for more inductive ones. The more deductive approaches typically do not allow us to understand the variety of these institutions. More inductive analyses, including biographies or histories of individual institutions, highlight the diversity that exists but are typically not guided by a framework that enables more generalized insights to inform public policy. Past Canadian federal studies, while useful as an evolving policy story, have far too great a tendency to take a simple ‘black box’ approach combined with policy prescriptions wedded to a ‘one size fits all’ imperative. And finally, the analysis of R&D versus RSA brought out the extent to which the broader RSA story has been underplayed analytically, and also the ways in which RSA in particular involves service-like activities and complex interactions and roles in regulatory product approval processes relative to science-based monitoring activities. All of these analytical aspects and contexts point to the need for a

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complementary middle-level approach to analysing government S&T labs and agencies. More case studies per se will not be enough unless they are informed by a framework that allows real-world characteristics to be displayed and understood. To this task we now turn in chapter 2.

2 Analytical Approach

This chapter sets out our overall middle-level analytical approach for examining and understanding the four R&D-focused S&T labs as functioning institutions. It also links readers to the four illustrative RSAfocused agencies examined in chapter 7. In the approach to our fivepart framework, we take two brief analytical steps to help us understand the potential full array of such institutions. We begin with a very basic hierarchical and quasi-principal–agent mapping of the S&T lab as lodged within the broader government hierarchy, but we also cascade down, across, and out to the possible clients and entities this lab links with. We then present a more detailed but still brief descriptive picture of S&T labs, setting out their boundaries and content and fully listing the policies to which they are subject. We then move to our fivepart framework per se, which draws directly and indirectly on the two earlier maps but which is basically a simpler inductive working framework developed from initial research on the lab cases and on other related research on federal government science (Doern and Levesque 2002; Doern and Kinder 2002). The five-part framework centres on S&T labs and agencies as managers and interpreters of a partially contradictory policy menu that includes the following: (a) S&T/innovation/commercialization policies; (b) sustainable development and environmental policies; (c) key parent departmental mandates and related contextual political–economic change; (d) macro and micro budgetary management policies; and (e) changing linkages with universities, business, other federal departments, and communities. As we discussed in chapter 1, the literature on science and government and critiques of past policy studies of government labs, as well as

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issues of R&D versus RSA, suggest that some further middle-level approach is needed to complement the insights provided by current approaches. After we discuss the two preliminary maps, we will set out each of the above five policy menu factors in turn. Later, in chapters 3 to 6, we will utilize these factors in examining the four R&Dfocused S&T labs that are the subject of our case studies. A complementary approach for our briefer illustrative look at four RSA-focused agencies will be referred to here but will mainly be set out in chapter 7. A Hierarchical and ‘Quasi Principal–Agent’ Mapping of S&T Labs Figure 2.1 provides a first basic mapping of S&T labs and agencies. It is a basic hierarchical and ‘quasi principal–agent’ portrait. The hierarchical features are relatively obvious. The principal–agent relations are cast as ‘quasi principal–agent’ because normal principal–agent relations are typically presented in terms of individuals (for example, a cabinet minister as principal and a deputy minister as agent). In figure 2.1, we portray entire organizations or entities as collectivities, but of course each is headed by an individual, and hence figure 2.1 implies ‘quasi principal–agent’ relations as well. All along the chain of such relations, various principals are seeking to get agents, through delegation, to behave in intended ways to meet various policy objectives and organizational mandates but also to adjust to changing circumstances – in the case of this book’s focus, over a period of twenty years. These relations can be cast at various levels of detail. For example, Guston’s work (referred to in chapter 1) portrayed principal–agent relations at a quite basic and simplified ‘social contract’ level, and viewed two components as central to the relationship between politics and science: productivity, and integrity. The framework used in this book seeks to utilize a somewhat more complex framework regarding what policy norms and related governance relations might be involved. At the centre of figure 2.1 is the government S&T lab or agency with the mandate or the potential to fulfil roles regarding the provision of public goods S&T, or commercial S&T/innovation support, or changing mixtures of these. Above the S&T lab/agency in that figure are a series of institutions (all of them principals in one way or another to the S&T lab and agency). These start (in basic democratic terms) with citizens/voters electing a Parliament; delegated laws, budgets, and tasks then cascade downwards to and through the prime minister and Cabinet, to individual ministers as

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Figure 2.1. A hierarchical and quasi principal–agent mapping of lab/agencies Citizen/Voters

Parliament

Cabinet

Minister Central agencies Parent department

Public goods S&T

Commercial S&T & innovation

S&T Lab/Agency Funded by tax revenues and/or user fees and charges

Mix of functions/tasks

Information and technology transfer Individuals

R&D

RSA

Funding & brokering of funds

Direct or indirect regulation

Relationships with and links to:

Monitoring

Communities Universities

Clients & partners

Regulated entities

Stakeholder groups

International S&T researchers, agencies, and interests

Firms

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heads of departments, through key central agencies (such as the Department of Finance, the Treasury Board, the Privy Council Office, and the Prime Minister’s Office), and through departments managed by deputy ministers. Below (and around) the S&T lab and agency in figure 2.1, one sees an array of tasks and functions (funded by some combination of taxpayer funds, revenues or fees from users and clients, and other kinds of earnings accruing to the S&T lab and agency such as licence fees and royalties). The functional tasks of the S&T lab or agency (carried out by groups of S&T and other staff, or perhaps by individual S&T and staff personnel) then consist of a range of activities, including the following: the carrying out of R&D, the performance of RSA; direct funding or the brokering/leveraging of funds; direct or indirect regulation; monitoring activities; and information, advice, and technology transfer. These functions and tasks then cascade further downwards and outwards, with linkages to a variety of individuals, clients, partners, and regulated entities; and to stakeholders in business enterprises (large, small, or medium), universities, NGOs, other federal government departments and agencies, other levels of government, and communities/regions/spatial locales. Also increasingly important are relations with international players such as S&T researchers, other foreign labs and agencies, intergovernmental bodies, and commercial interests abroad. In our case analyses of S&T labs and agencies, we will of course be interested in how these wider relationships are developed by the lab or become sources of pressure, and competitive threats and opportunities, for the lab. The picture provided in figure 2.1 of a nested hierarchy of principal– agent relationships and a cascading stream of delegation is an important one to bear in mind as we examine the labs. Labs as institutions must deal with a number of government-wide and parent department policies, mandates, and client pressures; all of these must be implemented and interpreted by the scientists and research experts who manage and work for these entities. But before we get to the framework being used, we have one further interim step to take. A Preliminary Descriptive Mapping of S&T Labs Our ultimate focus is the five-part framework, but it is important that we first sketch out some general features of the governmental S&T lab

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and agency as defined in the introduction to this book and as is partly revealed by figure 2.1 as well. Table 2.1 provides a further descriptive profile. The first part of table 2.1 captures the main aspects of what one must include or consider when asking questions about the boundaries of an S&T lab and agency – that is, about what is to be included in it and around it. These aspects include the nature of the mandate as well as the leadership of the lab and of those bodies to whom it reports in the larger departmental hierarchy. It encompasses the core groups, competences, and scientific disciplines of the S&T staff, as well as the R&D versus RSA tasks inherent in the mandate. It includes the lab’s national (versus regional) location and its mix of capital infrastructure assets (facilities, equipment, vessels, and so on), as well as its roles in providing partial funding or services in kind to clients. It also includes the precise mix and changing nature of its sources of funding and the principles of governance those sources imply. Last but certainly not least, it involves the diverse kinds of linkages it has with businesses, universities, other federal departments, the provinces, NGOs, and communities, as well as with international bodies and scientists. These linkages are drawn out in each of the lab case studies, as are all of the other features of the sometimes fuzzy lab boundaries and content. The second part of table 2.1 captures the full mix of the policy menu that directs, influences, or induces the labs to perform and behave in various interpretative ways. It suggests that some attention must be paid to the extent to which mandates are statutory as opposed to nonstatutory or guided by general policy guidelines or business plans. It also suggests the need to differentiate the policy menus that emanate from government-wide sources and from the parent departments. The full policy menu is listed in table 2.1; in the framework that follows, however, we have boiled it down to a five-part framework as portrayed in table 2.2. A somewhat simplified policy menu is also required because we need to appreciate in more detail the underlying debates inherent in each component of the framework menu and also some of the ways in which those components conflict or constitute serious matters of choice and relative emphasis by S&T labs and agencies. The notion that this is a menu of choices and points of emphasis is important. One might also regard this as simply an issue of overall agenda setting; however, the menu metaphor implies that someone else has ‘set the table,’ as it were, and constrained the choices. S&T labs and agencies are located in the middle or even lower levels of their

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Table 2.1. S&T labs: Boundaries, content, and policy menus What’s in and around a ‘lab’ as an institutional entity? • mandate (statutory, non-statutory) • leadership and senior management • core S&T groups or divisions • core scientific and technical competences • mix of R&D, RSA, monitoring, and technology transfer tasks inherent in mandate • dominant or major S&T ‘disciplines’ • individual S&T staff and other support staff • location of lab (headquarters, region) • set of lab assets and facilities – equipment • provider of partial funding or services in kind • structure of budgets and funds and relative dependence on: – A-base funds – policy or program funds for use or brokering – granting body or 3rd party funds (if eligible) – revenue raising (e.g., cost recovery, user fees) – intellectual property earnings • linkages (hierarchical and networked) with – businesses – universities – other federal government departments – provincial governments – NGOs and communities – international bodies and scientists The full policy menu: requirements, influences, and inducements on S&T lab strategy, plans, and behaviour • statutory versus non-statutory nature of policy mandate – acts administered by parent department – acts supported by parent department – other relevant acts • government-wide policy and/or other department’s policies – sustainable development – S&T and innovation policy – international treaties and trade agreements – budgetary policy cuts (e.g., program review) and new money – new policy funds and 3rd party foundations and their eligibility requirements – rules about revenue raising and vote netting – rules about capital and equipment purchasing – results-based management requirements – public service-wide statutes and policies related to human resources, contracting, real property, occupational health and safety, official languages, etc. • parent department or ministry policies and priorities – NRCan (e.g., natural resources policy and law) – Environment Canada (environmental policy and regulation)

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Table 2.2. The policy menu framework for examining changing S&T labs and agencies S&T/innovation/commercialization policies – S&T as linear continuum from basic to applied to development – innovation as a non-linear, interactive process leading to new products and production processes (working through national and local innovation systems or clusters) – commercialization as actual new products and processes sold in national and global markets; also the active formation of new spin-off companies and SMEs – research that involves S&T for public goods and that supports regulation by the state carried out in the broad public interest Sustainable development (SD) and environmental policies – SD as a balanced consideration of environmental, economic, and social implications of decisions and policies for current and future generations (the ‘triple bottom line’) – environmental policy and regulation as ‘end of pipe’ clean-up of emissions and pollution, and conservation of natural environment – policies and practices that lead to sustainable production and consumption by firms, markets, and consumers Parent department mandates and changing political–economic contexts – Natural Resources Canada and the energy, forestry, and mining and metals industries promoted, supported, and regulated under the provisions of both NRCan and government-wide policies, statutes, and international agreements and treaties – Environment Canada and the environmental and SD realms of water, land, air, wildlife, ecosystem, habitat, and climate change, supported through and regulated under the provisions of both Environment Canada and government-wide policies, statutes, and international agreements and treaties Macro- and micro-budgetary and management policies – fiscal policy deficits and expenditure cuts, reallocations, reviews, and priorities – fiscal policy surpluses and new money allocations, mechanisms, and priorities – management concepts linked to NPM and greater client and customer-citizen-user focus, including user fees and new forms of revenue generation – management/accountability concepts linked to personnel policy, merit, performance measurement and reporting, contracting out, and building capacity through human capital – physical and research assets and problems of ‘rust-out’ Changing policy-driven linkages with universities, business, other governments, and communities – universities (national, regional, international) – business (big, small, and medium; Canadian and foreign-owned) – other federal departments – other governments and international bodies – communities – international S&T personnel

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departmental hierarchical homes, and thus they are much more policy takers than policy makers. Principal–agent relations, asymmetries, and issues of delegation are a constant part of menu-interpreting and selection processes and dynamics. The Cabinet and the parent department set most of the policies. Many such policies are simply added on without replacing earlier preferred areas of policy emphasis. Many are ‘one size fits all’ policies that in very real terms do not fit different lab situations, mandates, and histories, and policies from the centre are not all pushed with the same level of intensity, detail, or attention span. And, of course, we are looking at the four main case study labs over a twenty-year period. Our framework does not allow us to examine and fully explain every nuance of change or stability; it does, however, provide an analytic device that comes close to encompassing the realworld context in which labs function and through which differences among them emerge. We apply this as an analytical lens mainly to our four chapter-length case studies. The discussion of RSA agencies in chapter 7 will not employ this approach. Because the cases in that chapter are more illustrative in nature and presented in a single chapter, a different but complementary approach will be needed. In addition, of course, labs and agencies as organizations have their own leadership and operating cultures, as well as their own needs for operating independence and for striking some kind of balance between their public goods and commercial roles in managing their mix of R&D versus RSA tasks. S&T/Innovation/Commercialization Policies Over the entire twenty-year span of our analysis, S&T innovation/ commercialization policies that have an impact on the S&T labs and agencies have evolved with different focal points along the continuum of these activities. The overall policy emphasis and journey has moved ‘down or along the continuum’ (even though it is now recognized that it is not linear) from ‘S&T’ (basic research and technology) to ‘innovation’ (product and process development) to ‘commercialization’ (bringing products successfully to market). It is essential to appreciate the relative emphasis of policies since the mid-1960s as encompassing three periods, cast roughly as 1965 to the mid-1980s, the late 1980s to roughly 2002, and 2003 to the present. This is because the previous eras (whose boundaries are not watertight) were not so much supplanted by the successor policy era – rather, the current period’s policies have

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been stacked on top of earlier policies, sometimes intelligently and progressively and sometimes quite randomly. Between 1965 and the mid-1980s, policy tended to be characterized as ‘science policy,’ initially on its own and later as ‘science and technology policy.’ The need for a science policy was first articulated by the federal Glassco Commission on Government Organization, but the case was most fully developed by the Senate Committee on Science and Technology Policy (Lamontagne 1970). Even during the more prosperous years of the late 1960s, the Lamontagne Committee argued that Canada had no science policy and required one in order to ensure its continued prosperity (Doern 1972). The powerful role of bodies such as the National Research Council (NRC) was not an effective substitute for science policy, the committee argued. Indeed, the NRC had become part of the problem, because it was too closely associated – despite its industry-focused mandate – with academic and government science. The Glassco Commission and the Lamontagne Committee both emphasized that Canada’s S&T activities were dominated too strongly by S&T and R&D funded and performed by the government rather than by universities and by business – particularly the latter. Most of our competitor countries during these years had the majority of their R&D performed by industry; for Canada it was the reverse (Dominion Bureau of Statistics 1970). Commercially performed R&D was much less prevalent in Canada than in competitor countries because of how this country had developed (as a resource-based economy) and because of the strong post–Second World War trend towards foreign ownership of the Canadian economy (de la Mothe 1994). Foreign-owned branch plants tended not to do much R&D in Canada. Innovation and commercialization concerns were certainly a part of the debate in this era, but they were only broadly expressed, since the need was for an overall science policy in which science meant S&T and R&D of all kinds. The dominant theoretical context for this era was the so-called linear model of innovation, which was codified in the Second World War era report by Vannevar Bush and became the model for American S&T policy (Crow 1994). This model aligned key types of research activities along a continuum beginning with basic research, which led to applied research, which in turn led to development activities and ultimately to new products (or what many referred to even then in this continuum model as ‘innovation’ or ‘commercialization’). The linear model emerged during the postwar era in the United States; strong govern-

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ment S&T support had helped the war effort, and this in turn led to major initiatives such as nuclear energy, supersonic aircraft, and space research (Guston 2000). It was also consistent with the views held by scientists and engineers about their basic position and relationships along this continuum. In the second period of development, which fully coincides with our look at the four case study labs and agencies, innovation policy or innovation strategies gradually became the more heavily emphasized policy approach. Some of the innovation emphasis can be traced to the early years of Brian Mulroney’s Conservative government (de la Mothe 2000; Kinder 2003). But the innovation policy approach was picked up mainly by the Chrétien Liberals and began to receive emphasis in early Industry Canada and other micro-economic studies in 1994, soon after the Liberals took office (Industry Canada 1994; Wolfe 2002; de la Mothe 1994, 2003). Innovation policy was always linked to the earlier S&T policy developments but was intended to signal a Liberal effort to push harder towards realizing greater applied developments and new products and processes throughout Canadian industry. In ministerial speeches and statements, it was also frequently linked to approaches to competitiveness. By 2000, innovation policy was the central preoccupation. This led to the innovation policy strategy and consultation processes centred on the 2002 federal policy paper, Achieving Excellence (Canada 2002a), as well as to a related paper that focused more on skills, immigration, and training/education issues. This was the first innovation strategy in a more full-blown sense in that it was government-wide and it engaged business and S&T stakeholders and interests. But it also drew on a decade of earlier work and discussion which was often more substantive but for which there was no evident government-wide support in terms of budgetary resources. A somewhat earlier key manifestation of an innovation focus came in the first Throne Speech after Chrétien’s third election victory in 2000 (Doern 2002). This speech led off with innovation and S&T issues – probably the first and only time that a Throne Speech had focused on such issues as its lead theme. But prior to this, the Chrétien Liberals (with Paul Martin as minister of finance) had in 1997 created and generously funded new bodies such as the Canada Foundation for Innovation (CFI) and other S&T initiatives (see more below) (Canada Foundation for Innovation 2000a, 2000b, 2004; Doern 2006). The greater focus on innovation policy was influenced in part by the

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theoretical and conceptual underpinning of models and approaches that strongly challenged the previous linear model of S&T as well as key tenets of neoclassical economics (Freeman and Soete 1997). It was also influenced by views about free trade and about the emergence of the knowledge-based economy (KBE, or simply the ‘new economy’). Non-linear models focused on the fact that innovation in the form of new products and production processes was the product of complex multidirectional interactions within firms and between firms and other institutions and could occur at any stage of the nominal continuum rather than only at the end of it (Nelson 1993; Edquist 1997). The innovation policy era was also propelled by conceptualizations of the KBE that highlighted the fact that countries – especially countries like Canada – could no longer live off their natural resources, but increasingly would have to live off their wits – simply put, they would have to translate their S&T into knowledge-based products and services (Courchene 1996; Lipsey and Carlaw 1998a, 1998b). Formal innovation models coalesced more and more around the concepts of national and local/regional systems of innovation as defined in the introduction to this book. Some of this occurred first in bodies such as the NRC, particularly regarding how it saw the changing role of some of its research institutes and how it strongly engaged in various Canadian cities and communities (Doern and Levesque 2001). But it was also part of a key 1991 report that Michael Porter prepared for the federal government (Porter et al. 1991). Increasingly local/regional systems of innovation took on the nomenclature of ‘clusters,’ composed of crucial and complex networks and ongoing linkages in communities/cities among firms, local governments, the local or regional university (or community college), local/regional risk capital providers, and other players in local innovation systems. Strategies for growing or fostering clusters became an explicit aspect of innovation policy in Canada and in other competitor countries (Niosi 2005; Wolfe 2002, 2003; Wolfe and Lucas 2003). In the years after 2002, a somewhat greater focus on commercialization per se emerged, particularly in the years of Martin’s Liberal government. Key parts of a commercialization agenda had been previewed in the 2002 Achieving Excellence paper, under a subsection of the report on commercialization (Canada 2002a, 34–50). It stressed that while Canadian firms had increased their R&D in the previous decade and adopted new production technologies, the country’s record in commercialization was still markedly weaker than that of competitor

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countries. The report went on to discuss factors that influence levels and degrees of commercialization, as well as the need for increased venture capital and other needs identified in the Throne Speech. The theoretical context for the current period has not changed as radically as it did during the transformation between the two earlier periods. In effect, this context draws on both linear and non-linear models. A commercialization focus does involve the inevitable reuse of the linear model, since commercialization is seen as the ultimate destination on the nominal linear continuum. But national systems of innovation and more localized clusters are still the larger theoretical underpinning for the commercialization discourse largely because, in such systems, firms are at the centre of such models and interact in complex non-linear ways with other key actors. What gets layered into the theoretical and conceptual underpinnings in the current period are a series of more specific factors and points of emphasis that begin, hopefully, to zero in on front-line commercialization. First, there is a greater emphasis on the importance of intellectual property (IP). Having IP rights and developing a culture of patenting is not itself commercialization, since actual marketable products are not yet in place. But patenting usually means that commercial prospects are central to the inventor. Moreover, rates of patenting are a closer output-oriented measure of such potential commercialization than were earlier input-oriented indices such as R&D spending as a percentage of Canada’s GDP compared to other countries (Baldwin 1997; Doern and Sharaput 2000; Foray 2004; Duttfield 2003). IP rights, especially patenting, are also increasingly being linked to the degree to which S&T bodies (firms, universities, and government labs) are creating and fostering ‘spin-off companies’ (Vohora et al. 2004; Doern and Levesque 2002). Second, the federal government is gradually finding it easier to speak openly about productivity and about Canada’s productivity gap, especially vis-à-vis the United States. Whether measured as output per worker per hour or in other total factor ways, the very word productivity had at one time often been difficult to use in policy discourse because polling showed that Canadians associated the concept with job losses or a demand to simply work harder. Commercialization agendas (like the earlier overall innovation agenda) are gradually allowing policymakers to discuss productivity openly, frankly, and importantly as a key underlying problem and challenge for Canada’s economy, standard of living, and ability to afford social policy spend-

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ing and investment (Department of Finance 2005; Rao and Sharpe 2002). Third, attention is being focused more on so-called transformative technologies and on Schumpeterian change. These debates have drawn attention to the fact that neoclassical models of the economy are not sufficient to deal with the kinds of transformative change being brought about by biotechnology, information technology, and nanotechnology and by complex interactions among all of these technologies (Lipsey and Carlaw 1998a, 1998b; Woodley 2001). Fourth, ideas about ‘smart regulation’ have entered the policy equation. Smart regulation refers to regulatory governance that is conducted to ensure that continuous innovation occurs in regulation and in markets while still ensuring the health and safety of Canadians. As a concept and slogan, it gains its name in Canada from the federal ‘smart regulation’ initiative. As announced in the 30 September 2002 Throne Speech, work on the initiative was to be guided and advised by a multistakeholder External Advisory Committee on Smart Regulation (EACSR), which reported in the fall of 2004 (EACSR 2004). Also woven into the above broad periods of change in policy emphasis and theory are discussions and concerns about S&T as a public good and as public interest science: government science must be capable of informing regulation. Furthermore, risk assessment, risk management, and risk communication can be carried out in transparent ways and in ways that involve stakeholder and public participation (Doern and Reed 2000). However, it must be stated that as the policy framework has shifted from S&T to innovation to commercialization, discussion of the government’s role in providing ‘public goods’ S&T seems to have faded from the policy discussion, making only occasional appearances at times of crisis or controversy involving S&T-based issues such as BSE, SARS, and declining fish stocks. Sustainable Development and Environmental Policies The second part of the framework centres on sustainable development and environmental policies. Since the dawn of the formal environmental policy age in the late 1960s, federal S&T labs have been influenced directly and indirectly by federal environmental policies and (later) by sustainable development policy. Sustainable development (SD) policy refers to the body of policies whose intent is to ensure, in any number of areas of governance, that the environment and its ecosystems are left

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in at least as good a state for the next generation as they had been for the current generation (Lafferty and Meadowcroft 2000). However, the federal government and other OECD governments tend to cast SD policies somewhat more loosely as those which take into account, and strike a balance among, the economic, social, and environmental effects of policies – the so-called ‘triple bottom line.’ Environmental policy more generally refers to policies and regulations intended to clean up pollution or to reduce emissions that have already occurred (Doern 2006). Such ‘end of pipe’ notions include principles such as ‘polluter pays’ and tend to date from the early 1970s, when Environment Canada was established. Early on, these longerstanding environmental policies and regulations were often cast as ‘command and control’ regulation, and businesses argued strenuously that such policies needed to be based more on economic instruments of regulation and flexible regulation. Also entering the federal policy lexicon in the 1970s were notions of environmental corporate responsibility combined with notions of sustainable production, in the sense that firms as well saw both value and profit in developing and employing the best green production technologies and products (Toner 2006). The paradigm of sustainable development has been endorsed at a government-wide level as part of national policy. Furthermore, in many senses, because it constitutes a preventative approach, it requires the addition of more non-regulatory instruments of governance (initially at least), and it depends on a department such as Environment Canada being able to influence the policies and decisions of its fellow federal departments at much earlier stages in the decision process than had earlier been the case. This does not mean that SD has been practised as such, but it has been institutionalized to some extent (Bregha 2006). A further impetus to institutionalization emerged with the forming of the Commissioner of the Environment and Sustainable Development (CESD), whose role as part of the Office of the Auditor General of Canada is to audit on a regular basis the extent to which all departments are developing and implementing SD strategies (and other environmental measures). Again, this institutional presence does not guarantee changed behaviour, but it does apply pressure, simply because departments must report continuously in a more public manner. The starting point for the federal S&T labs is that SD as a governing policy idea is government-wide but also subject to different interpretations. But it is also part of the mandate for both parent departments of the four labs in this book’s case studies: for NRCan it is a statutory

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requirement, and for Environment Canada it is central to its very existence in that, more than any other department, it is the main advocate of this idea on a cross-governmental basis. Parent Department Mandates and Changing Political-Economic Contexts Both of the above policy paradigms are important for the S&T labs and are part of their departmental mandates, but they do not cover the full range of the key parent department mandates and changing politicaleconomic contexts over the period covered in this book. The four labs we examine in the case studies are located in two federal departments: Natural Resources Canada (NRCan) and Environment Canada. It is obvious, therefore, that the labs would be strongly influenced by policies and statutes dealing with natural resources, energy, mining and minerals, environment, climate change, wildlife, and endangered species in an overall sense. These policies in turn are crucially influenced by industrial and other policy communities. The entry point for this book as a whole is to examine the labs as S&T labs and agencies, but of course they are also natural resource labs and environment labs, and thus they are intricately tied to the nature of each parent department’s statutory and policy clientele and business lines within these policy fields. NRCan’s mission is to ‘provid[e] the knowledge and expertise for the sustainable development and use of Canada’s natural resources and the global competitiveness of the resource and related sectors for the well-being of present and future generations’ (Canada 2000b, 3). The sustainable development mandate is provided by statute in the department’s own act. Both sustainable development and innovation are reinforced as goals by NRCan’s vision statement: ‘As we enter the millennium, Canada must become and remain the world’s “smartest” natural resources steward, developer, user and exporter – the most high tech, the most environmentally friendly, the most socially responsible, the most productive and competitive – leading the world as a living model of sustainable development’ (Canada 2000b, 1). NRCan’s statutory authority arises from several statutes, including the Department of Natural Resources Act, the Canada Oil and Gas Operations Act, the Canada Lands Surveys Act, the Explosives Act, and the Arctic Waters Pollution Prevention Act, as well as the laws dealing with offshore oil, which are administered jointly with Newfoundland and Nova Scotia.

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The two NRCan labs we examine have had stronger and longer-term traditions of promoting their client industries – energy and mining and metals respectively (and also forestry, which we do not cover here through a lab case study). But the ministry’s relations with industry are not unidimensional and have changed over the past decade. For example, NRCan labs must work within the realities of an energy policy and energy economy that is dominated by oil and gas as an energy source; but at the same time, they must challenge these realities in order to help prepare Canadians for alternative energy sources and uses in a future era of SD during which climate change will be a key energy policy challenge (Doern 2006). NRCan labs dealing with the mining and minerals industry also face many challenges. This industry is having to adapt both to the SD age and to a Canadian and global mineral industry whose structure has changed markedly over the past fifteen years. Greater environmental pressures and changing mining technologies mean that the roles these labs play in support of governmental regulation (federal, provincial, and international) have broadened considerably. The situation for the two Environment Canada labs is similar regarding the nature of change. One lab has served largely as an S&T support for Environment Canada’s regulatory tasks in air pollution but is also involved in encouraging the development of environmental industries – industries that can prosper as technologies develop that are driven by or required by regulation. Our second Environment Canada lab is involved in ongoing monitoring tasks regarding wildlife, and in a policy world that has changed owing to new commitments to preserving endangered species and biodiversity. Environment Canada as a policy and regulatory department wants ‘to see a Canada where people make responsible decisions about the environment; and where the environment is thereby sustained for the benefit of present and future generations.’ Its mandate is ‘to preserve and enhance the quality of the natural environment, including water, air and soil quality; conserve Canada’s renewable resources, including migratory birds and other non-domestic flora and fauna; conserve and protect Canada’s water resources; carry out meteorology; enforce the rules made by the Canada–United States International Joint Commission relating to boundary waters; and coordinate environmental policies and programs for the federal government.’ Its mission is ‘to make sustainable development a reality in Canada by helping Canadians live and prosper in an environment that needs to be respected, pro-

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tected and conserved’ (http://www.ec.gc.ca/introec/index_e.htm, 16 May 2000). Environment Canada’s statutory authority flows from important pieces of legislation such as the Department of Environment Act, the Canada Water Act, the Canada Wildlife Act, the Canadian Environmental Assessment Act, the Canadian Environmental Protection Act, and a number of other acts (fourteen in total that are its own responsibility). Also, the department and its minister formulate policy and regulate jointly with other ministers and departments under the auspices of several other laws, including the Fisheries Act and (more recently) the Oceans Act. Many regulations flow from parent statutes. The department’s activities are also driven by an ever-growing number of international environmental agreements and protocols. Thus federal S&T labs are also influenced by broad policy and regulatory values and ideas in their parent departments’ mandates. These include ideas such as SD environmental protection, and public health and safety, but also the promotion of key industries and the employment they generate such as in the natural resources sector and, increasingly, in the environmental industries sector. We discuss these more directly in the case studies since these crucial ideas affect the S&T labs directly and are, moreover, increasingly the product of interactions and pressures between the two parent departments examined in this book. Macro and Micro Budgetary Management Policies The fourth element of the policy menu framework that S&T labs must deal with relates to budget management. This can involve anything from eliminating deficits and cutting expenditures to arriving at approaches for spending surpluses. At the micro budgetary level, this element concerns policies and rules about revenue raising, the uses and requirements for levered and partnered funding, and the requirements for performance reporting and other elements associated with the concepts of reinvented government or the new public management (NPM). Science budgets and the number of scientists supporting federal policy and regulatory functions have been cut quite severely over the past fifteen years, mainly as a consequence of the 1995–6 program review. The impacts of these cuts extended into the end of the 1990s (Swimmer 1996; Canada 1997, 1999, 2001a). Cuts to both science-based departments and agencies (SBDAs) and to the granting bodies were large – often as high as 40 per cent, particularly for the SBDAs.

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By the late 1990s, the federal deficit had been vanquished and surpluses had re-emerged in the public purse. Since then, some selected aspects of science budgets have grown or been rekindled in different ways (for example, the CFI has been generously funded, and granting councils have enjoyed restored or more stable funding). Concepts of budgeting tied to notions of reinvented government or NPM are influencing ideas about how the new S&T system (including the labs) should work and how funding should be offered and managed (Foley 1999; Boden et al. 1998; Patashnik 1999; Lane 2000). The new system is characterized much more than it once was by notions of competitive government and leveraged partnership funding. To get money one must bring money. Also, the competition for budgets is being built into an ever more explicit bidding process. Some of the institutional learning curve can be attributed to the initial experience with the Networks of Centres of Excellence (NCE) Program and to changes in the Program of Energy Research and Development (PERD) after its funds were cut severely in the 1990s from their mid1980s levels. The founding of the CFI in 1997 only added to this innovation cum budget reform model by bringing in the delivery mechanism of a foundation, which quickly was given the label of a ‘thirdparty’ delivery mechanism. The CFI was established mainly by the finance ministry. Its form was strongly influenced by the department’s desire to funnel year-end surplus funds (which were surprisingly high) into an organizational form, the foundation, that could not be easily reached by other parts of the government, whose priorities were different. To some this amounted to a ‘parking’ of funds in a way that was contrary to the core notions of accountability in a Cabinet-parliamentary government (Aucoin 2003). The macro and micro budgetary management policies ultimately combined to create pressures – as well as some choices – centred on the balance and nature of funding and funding sources. This issue is of direct concern to the labs, but it is also ultimately a ‘surrogate’ issue under which many of the other issues being surveyed are lumped together. The various funding changes can be evidence both of new forms of raw policy pressure and of inducements to network and partner. The money question also stimulates discussions of public versus commercial goods, and of the various S&T, RSA, and R&D innovation systems and their practical operational meaning and capacity. The four S&T lab case studies bring out the role of key funding sources and how those sources have changed over the past decade or

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more. The broad tendencies are as follows: (a) the ‘A-Base’ has shrunk (albeit to widely varying degrees across the four labs); (b) commercial revenues have grown with a concomitant increase in royalty revenues; and (c) there has been growth in policy funds, third-party funds, and flow-through funds, some of which the labs can use but many of which they cannot. This has generated a complex arena of incentives and requirements (and new bureaucracy); it has also yielded new forms of entrepreneurship on the part of S&T staff and managers. Furthermore, it has led to higher transaction costs and is forcing new requirements to read the proverbial tea leaves of the evolving S&T/innovation/commercialization system and its complex, shifting menu of policy values. Thus a key issue is the shrinking A-base – that is, taxpayer funding of federal S&T labs. This trend has both positive and negative aspects. On the positive side, the requirement for alternative revenue generation can sharpen a lab’s focus on its core competences and ensure that its S&T remains relevant to a range of stakeholders. However, if the balance of funding tilts too far towards a strictly commercial function (important though this is), then over time the labs will be less and less capable of maintaining and replenishing their own intellectual capital on medium to long term S&T issues and hence will have less and less to offer both future industrial clientele and the federal government in the fulfilment of public policy roles and mandates. We do not argue for a particular level of A-base funding. Rather, our point is that this debate has not been held at a system level and has the potential to place at risk the labs’ public goods mission. The federal government’s results-based system of management and accountability – a key feature of NPM – is also a part of this mix (Di Salle, van Beek, and Baskerville 2006) It means that federal S&T labs have had to develop more specific indicators and targets of performance. Schillo (2003) observes: ‘While research staff have maintained that it is not possible to establish targets in the research context, others, often including policy and business experts, maintain that it is not only feasible to define such a framework, but poor practice not to do so. Reconciling these attitudes remains a challenge.’ This tension has been exacerbated by the need for labs to demonstrate revenue generation capacity, which is itself seen as an initial indicator of the commercial or client-centred relevance of labs’ work. Federal personnel policies are also a part of this component of our analytical framework. Such policies are rooted in a traditional meritbased system that historically has been highly centralized across the

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federal government. Intended to ensure consistency, fairness, and transparency in the public hiring process (for scientists and all personnel), it also has become a system that imposes great rigidity, precisely at the time when innovation and flexibility are most needed. Issues relating to pay and promotion are tied up in such policies. For example, are salaries high enough to attract scarce expertise? And can scientists be promoted for their ongoing scientific work, or are they forced to take management positions as the only way to get extra pay? Personnel policies are the easiest to state in our framework. Arguably, they also have the greatest impact in that they go to the heart of an S&T lab’s actual capacities – that is, the skills and knowledge of its staff. This is true for R&D capacities and also for the RSA capacities, which are tied up in the education, knowledge, and experience of scientifically and technically trained staff. But they are also tied inextricably to the issue of up-to-date laboratory and monitoring equipment. Ultimately, these are intertwined issues in that they are linked parts of the task of ongoing institutional renewal. To retain and attract topnotch scientists and technologists, the labs need up-to-date research facilities and testing/monitoring equipment. The renewal question is also one of attracting younger scientists whose university education has exposed them to the latest S&T approaches and theories. But it is also one of keeping and attracting experienced S&T staff who have expertise in the science, art, and craft of regulatory science and in the science and technology that is necessary to support policy goals. There are also difficult choices regarding how and what kinds of staff to acquire in order to meet the new needs for S&T and policy staff who are skilled at brokering funding and managing networks. There are also choices regarding what mix of competences is needed. Sometimes such ‘competences’ are coterminous with traditional S&T ‘disciplines,’ but increasingly they are not. The four labs have faced their own versions of physical ‘rust-out’ in their lab and monitoring equipment and buildings. Some limited replenishment has been possible in recent years. But the broader issue here is not just replacement costs but also new equipment, which is inherently more expensive – often by several orders of magnitude. An even larger macro governmental reality is that the federal government’s financial and budgetary system has no real capital budget – that is, no system that provides for the depreciation of equipment and the gradual build-up of funds for ongoing capital replacement. All of the case studies also reveal some common human capital chal-

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lenges, which mirror other federal studies and reports over the past few years. One is the age profile of S&T staff. Like many institutions across the federal government, the labs will be facing a large retirement cohort in the coming years. This represents both a loss and an opportunity. Some of the case labs studied anticipate few problems in attracting S&T staff, largely because they believe there are scientists interested in and committed to key aspects of public interest regulatory research. This does not mean that human capacity and staff needs are not a serious concern. Labs are undoubtedly keenly aware of the relevant markets for staff. For example, the competition between the federal labs and the universities for young S&T staff is becoming ever more fierce. In recent years, universities have received considerable new funding, including capital and equipment funding, and have been hiring large numbers of younger faculty just at a time when the labs need new S&T staff. Meanwhile, the labs have not received comparable support or reinvestment. Changing Policy-Induced Linkages with Business, Universities, Other Government Departments, and Communities The final part of the framework centres on how S&T labs and agencies have been affected by changing policy-induced linkages with other players, partners, and competitors. The development of such linkages is increasingly a matter of policy (including being inherently part of several of the other policies discussed above) as well as a product of the natural instincts of the S&T community in which they are located. A complex set of linkages and networks is possible, and S&T labs and agencies have ranges of choice as to which linkages they pursue at any given time. Moreover, they must make choices as to how they will respond when other players approach them for support or involvement. Linkages with universities can obviously involve choices at the overall national and regional–provincial levels as well as at the international level. They can involve formal agreements with individual universities, or they can occur at a quite individual level as individual S&T lab staff read and refer to one another’s published work, conduct and publish joint research in refereed journals, and serve as adjunct professors in university departments. The NWRC case study involves a situation where a federal lab was relocated to a university campus, Carleton University. This and other forms of co-location are generating a large amount of interest as the government seeks the best approaches

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to facilitating cross-sectoral linkages. Universities are also suppliers of research students, who may work with a lab while they are students and/or be hired by that lab after graduation. Universities can also be competitors to S&T labs for research personnel, for some kinds of funding, or for some types of consulting research work. The world of business networks and linkages involves partnership work with big, medium, and small enterprises on the basis of any number of agreements tied to funding, co-funding, intellectual property rights, or licensing, as well as formal and informal consultation and advice. Clearly, these kinds of relations depend partly on the degree to which the S&T lab or agency has an explicit innovation or commercialization mandate; however, links with firms also arise through R&D and RSA work tied to areas of regulation, where the firms are being regulated not just by the labs’ parent department but also by other federal departments and regulators. In our study, we do not include linkages based purely on transactional relations (such as procurement). Linkages with other federal departments, other governments and international bodies, and communities are diverse and complex for many S&T labs. Because all federal S&T labs are a part of one government, they immediately may have key links with other federal departments. This can be true either because such departments have complementary regulatory roles, or because they have funding or useful expertise that the S&T lab is interested in accessing. ‘Other governments’ can refer to other provincial, territorial, or local governments in Canada or to international bodies of many types. Community linkages are obviously important to some S&T labs and agencies that are regionally located. But as we will see, the notion of communities can also refer to broader policy communities with which S&T lab staff interact and to which they belong. These are the main components of the approach we are using. However, it is important to note that the five categories of the policy menu framework are not watertight. We are using this typology for analytical purposes, and as with all typologies, there are some boundary problems and some areas of overlap. For example, innovation is obviously a part of innovation policies per se, but it is also inherent in many key aspects of sustainable development and budgetary–managerial policies. SD policies are often tied to the need to develop new S&T for new production processes. Budgetary management policies are often tied to forcing or inducing new innovative alliances and hence new behaviour

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on the part of agencies and their partners or clients. Problems of interpretation and levels of urgency for the lab also arise out of the simple fact that some policies are government-wide whereas others are more department specific. So there are problems of interpretation regarding these policy menu components – problems that must be addressed by the S&T labs and agencies, and whose solutions must somehow make sense to the internal realities and capacities of the lab. A somewhat different set of middle-level analytical categories is necessarily used to explore the four illustrative RSA-focused agencies in chapter 7. These are best left for discussion in that chapter, but it is important to stress here that RSA-focused agencies are also influenced by the five policy menu realities examined above. Conclusions This chapter has set out the inductive, middle-level analytical approach that will be used to examine and understand the four R&Dfocused case study labs as functioning institutions. We have shown how the five-part framework as a simplified construct builds in part from two prior initial mappings of what S&T labs and agencies involve and are located within. The first was a very basic hierarchical and quasi-principal–agent mapping of the S&T lab and agency lodged within the larger government hierarchy but also cascading out to possible clients and linked entities. The second was a more detailed but brief descriptive picture of S&T labs that set out their boundaries and content, and that listed the policies to which they are subject. We suggest that the five-part policy menu framework developed in the last part of this chapter presents a more useful framework for understanding the evolving institutions of government science in Canada.

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PART TWO Case Studies of R&D-Focused Labs and RSA-Focused Agencies

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3 The CANMET Mining and Mineral Sciences Laboratories and Canada’s Transformed Mining Sector

In the early twenty-first century, Canada’s mining and mineral sector has a series of characteristics that are important for gauging precisely where government science and a lab such as the federal Mining and Mineral Science Laboratories (MMSL) fit in. The sector in recent years has been subject to covetous interest on the part of new global economic powers such as China and India, whose appetite for mineral supplies is boundless. The sector is a crucial one for the economies of several provinces and for the dozens of hinterland-based one-industry towns that depend on their mines. In both these two initial senses, the staples theory of Canada’s economic growth is evoked. In the sound bite politics of today, the mining and mineral sector in Canada often gets stuck with the ‘old economy’ label, by which is usually meant that it is about natural resources and thus is not an innovative or ‘high-tech’ sector. In this sound bite context, innovation immediately evokes industries such as telecommunications and biotechnology rather than mining and minerals. Also, sectors are often seen as ‘old economy’ if they are perceived as environmental or sustainable development laggards. Yet in many ways, the mining and metals sector is more ‘new economy’ than most with respect to its global presence, export orientation, high wages, and high productivity, including the use of new technologies to increase productivity (Natural Resources Canada 2000a). This has been brought out by federal studies of productivity and innovation that compare industrial sectors in Canada (Rao and Sharpe 2002). The sector is also more new economy than most with regard to the sustainable development pressures it faces and the way it has responded both nationally and globally. Also crucial to the MMSL is the fact that in the past twenty years the

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Canadian mining industry has in many respects been turned on its head. This transformation has been the result of policies, decisions, and forces only some of which the lab’s parent department, Natural Resources Canada (NRCan), can control or even lead. The principal transformation is that the Canadian mining industry has become a very large global player. It has always been global as a major exporter of Canadian-produced metals and minerals; now, however, it is global in the more crucial and complete sense that Canadian mining and mineral companies are investing heavily abroad. And this foreign investment is stimulating demand in other sectors in Canada that supply related equipment and services, including – quite starkly – the Canadian financial services sector, which finances these foreign-based initiatives (Natural Resources Canada 1997; Canadian Intergovernmental Working Group on the Mineral Industry 2000; Robinson 2006). Thus the contemporary Canadian mining ‘sector’ involves much more than domestic mining companies that export their goods. Canadian firms are making careful and strategic choices about investment, enticed by other governments, including countries in South America and in the former Soviet Union, which covet investment as part of their now more market-oriented national development policies. Also, when one thinks of policies towards mining and whether mining S&T gets done or can get financed, the multitude of policies have also included good (and bad) macro-economic and exchange rate policies by finance departments and central banks. These have produced often sharp cycles of change that have crucially affected mining production, inventories, export cycles, and investment patterns, such as during the 1981–2 and 1991–2 recessions. They have also included Canada’s federal taxation policy and the comparative tax policies (including particular provisions such as flow-through shares and taxation) of other countries that affect investment incentives. Furthermore, the array of traditional policies would have included those relating to strategic minerals that could and did restrict use and export, the policies of many developing countries to nationalize foreign mining companies, and federal and provincial policies that periodically used state ownership for troubled mining and mineral companies. An example of the latter is the establishment of Devco (Prince and Doern 1985). Finally, mining policies in the recent past have involved the early development of environmental regulation. In the 1970s and 1980s, such regulation gradually and increasingly prompted mining company owners and shareholders to believe that they no longer truly ‘owned’

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their assets or property because of the need for multiple permits, licences, and permissions as required by provincial governments and the federal government (Anderson 1985; McDougall 1985; Doern 1995). Like all the case study chapters, this analysis of the MMSL has three main sections. First, we profile its origins and overall policy mandate. Second, we examine the lab’s changing priorities. Third, we analyse changes in the lab over roughly the past fifteen years by applying the five-part policy menu framework set out in chapter 2. Where appropriate, we also draw attention to other relevant institutional features such as regional pressures. Conclusions then follow. Mandate and Origins The mandate of the MMSL is ‘to develop new science and adapt existing science to provide the technology needed to address specific problems in the mining and metals sector.’ In general, it exists to support: • The people and government of Canada, by providing science relevant to decision making regarding Canada’s mining industry, and metals and minerals issues; and • The Canadian mining industry and supporting service industry, by using S&T to solve problems and assist the industry in remaining competitive, which contributes to the Canadian economy and provides benefits to Canadians. (MMSL 2004, 1) The agency is based primarily in Ottawa but also has facilities at the Bells Corners complex in Nepean, a lab in Sudbury (focused on mine ventilation and ground control research), and an experimental mine facility in Val d’Or, Quebec. The MMSL laboratories are a division of the Minerals and Metals Sector of NRCan, which defines its mission as to advise ‘the Government on – and to advance its agenda for – the economic, social, environmental, scientific and technological spheres through the development and use of minerals and metals’ (NRCan 2001, 3). The current lab emerged from a 1996 reorganization of the larger CANMET organization, which had existed since the 1970s and which included energy and mining and minerals in one large group of laboratories. But ultimately, it can trace its history back to the earliest years of the twentieth century (Ignatieff 1981), when the mining and mineral

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sector was a vital part of a then highly resource-dominated Canadian economy. Its evolution over the past decade must also be linked to the discussion in chapter 2 of the formation of NRCan itself in 1993 and to the subsequent decision to place the S&T labs and units closer to the main sectoral policy realms of the department (energy, mining and minerals, and forestry) rather than under one overall sector for S&T covering all the above areas, as had been the case earlier (Doern 1995; Doern and Gattinger 2001). The lab currently has four components: mining, environment, mineralogy and metallurgical processing, and the Canadian Certified Reference Materials Project (CCRMP). The coordinators or managers of these units report directly to the lab’s director. A deputy director, a manager of the business office, and a manager of the international office fill out the core organization chart. In part, this basic structure evolved out of the earlier, larger CANMET organization, where there had been separate divisions for mining and for mineral sciences (MMSL 1995). The Mining Division tended to be more engineering oriented and applied, with strong links to the mining industry, whereas the Mineral Sciences Division was more science oriented. The addition of an explicit environmental group reflected the need to address a variety of issues relating to the environment and sustainable development, including mine waste management, mine effluent control, and the impact of metals on the environment. The lab describes itself as serving three principal clients: • The federal government and the mining and metals industry in Canada, which includes mines, mineral concentrators, smelters, refineries, and tailings and waste impoundment facilities. • The broader ‘cluster industry’ market of consulting engineers, equipment manufacturers, and associated environmental and other supply industries. • Provincial government natural resource and labour ministries. (MMSL 2000, 2) It also notes its complementary links with private-sector laboratories, provincial research organizations, and NGOs, and points out that ‘universities, besides being important partners in many of the MMSL’s consortium projects, also play an important role in disseminating the knowledge base within MMSL to Canadian students’ (ibid., 2). The lab’s staff level in 2000–1 was 157 (FTEs): 85 professional, 47

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technical, and 25 others (ibid., 69). Its total budget that year was $14.9 million, derived from revenues of $4.35 million and ‘A-base’ funding of approximately $10 million (ibid., 64). This was spent on personnel ($9.34 million) and operations ($5.0 million). At present, it has teams of experts in the following fields: • • • • • • • •

mine mechanization and automation mine air quality and ventilation ground control mineralogy and metallurgical processing mining effluent technologies mine waste management metal behaviour in the environment certified reference materials. (MMSL 2004, 3)

The MMSL’s 2000 to 2002 Business Plan indicated that as an NRCan lab, it had four main strategic directions/thrusts: 1 Promoting sustainable development in the Canadian minerals industry – mine effluents – tailings and waste rock – metals and the environment – Mine Environment Neutral Drainage (MEND) 2000 2 Improving industry competitiveness through enhanced productivity, processing, and value-added products – mineralogy and metallurgical processing – Canadian Certified Reference Materials Project (CCRMP) – mine mechanization and automation 3 Enhancement of mine worker health and safety – ground control – underground mine environment 4 Supporting management thrusts – strengthening science–policy linkages – identifying, developing, and launching a steady stream of large, multi-stakeholder flagship R&D projects – maintaining a core, internal project structure across the division – expanding range and effectiveness of external communications tools and outreach programs – providing a challenging, productive, and fulfilling work environ-

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ment for our people so that they feel motivated to stay with NRCan – Certification of MMSL quality system to ISO 9002 and related activity – staying within budget – renewal of facilities. (MMSL 2000, i–ii) The MMSL’s 2004 Annual Report indicates that its current activities ‘are focused on three principal directions to promote sustainable development: • improving health and safety in the mining environment; • finding technically-sound solutions to environmental problems; and • improving industry competitiveness through enhanced productivity.’ (MMSL 2004, 3) The above-noted initial portrait of the MMSL’s mandate and history indicates that as a federal S&T lab it is a fairly small entity but with a quite complex mandate. This offers, however, only an early glimpse into what it does and how it has changed. Changing Priorities Before examining the lab through each of the five elements in the fivepart policy menu framework employed in this book, it is important to see how the organization has described its overall changing policy priorities in its business plans. To this end, table 3.1 shows two of its business plans, first for the 1996–99 period and then for the 2000–1 to 2002–3 period. Not surprisingly, some issues are common to both periods, but there are also some shifts to new or redefined concerns. In 2000, for example, concern about low metal prices is listed first, but the issue of the growing demand for light metals also makes it into the top five external issues. The former captures some of the cyclical nature of the industry, which can then affect the ability of firms to invest in R&D, including joint ventures with the lab. The latter area of light metals (aluminum and magnesium) is partly related to new economy developments and thus constitutes an economic opportunity, but one in which there are also some environmental concerns.

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Table 3.1. Comparison of MMSL business plans’ presentation of key issues 1996–9 business plan External issues – international concern over metals as hazardous materials – sustainable development pressures – regulatory development – mine health and safety – international competitiveness of Canadian mining operations – special need of SMEs – support to Canadian mining companies overseas – improved communications and profile for MMSL Internal issues – program review aftermath – funding pressures – improved science–policy linkages – partnering with other R&D laboratories – maintaining and advancing divisional expertise – human resource management 2000–1 to 2002–3 business plan External issues – low metal prices – regulatory development – international concerns over metals as hazardous materials – mine health and safety – increasing demand for light metals – international competitiveness of Canadian mining companies – support to Canadian mining companies overseas – supporting Canadian foreign policy objectives – Improved communications and profile for MMSL Internal issues – funding pressures – balanced portfolio of research – setting priorities – improving science–policy linkages – partnering with other R&D laboratories – renovation of 555 Booth Street complex – human resource management Source: MMSL 1996, 3; 2000, 2–6.

In both periods, most of the top five external issues listed are related to environment and safety – for example, international concerns over metals as hazardous materials, regulatory development (where the concern is to ensure that sound science underpins regulations), mine health and safety, and, in 1996, ‘sustainable development pressures.’

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While these are ‘external issues,’ they are also policy issues that are emerging from NRCan, from other federal departments such as Environment Canada, and of course directly from the lab as it deals with and hears from its usual clients. For example, in 2000 the need to support ‘Canadian foreign policy objectives’ is listed explicitly, which indicates that this item is linked both to other environmental pressures and to opportunities for the increasingly globalized Canadian mining and metals industry. Thus it shows the importance of partnering with foreign institutions under technology transfer agreements in Argentina, Brazil, and Guyana – agreements funded by the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA), with MMSL as the implementing agency (MMSL 2000, 4). In the external lists for both periods, the second tranche of listed items deals with direct industry concerns, including how to foster the international competitiveness of Canadian mining companies and how to support Canadian mining companies overseas. With respect to the internal issues highlighted for the two periods, again there are common items as well as differences. Funding pressures appear in both lists as a top issue, and the issue of improved science policy linkages is ranked quite high as well. Both of these arise from pressures in the broader NRCan and Government of Canada context. However, in the 2000 business plan the internal issues that are more explicitly within the lab become sharpened and more explicit. It is clear that in the latter period, some new money has been earmarked for renovation of the lab’s main complex at 555 Booth Street in Ottawa. Furthermore, within the lab’s hierarchy there is growing concern about the linked issues of a ‘balanced portfolio of research,’ ‘setting priorities,’ and overall ‘human resource management.’ We return to these items later; however, the statement about balanced portfolios deserves explicit mention here. The 2000 business plan emphasizes that about 25 percent of MMSL’s revenue in recent years has come from contract research, and it is these funds that allow MMSL to maintain a critical mass in several program areas. Given the current financial situation described above, we have no choice but to maintain this level of revenue generation. However, it is clear that this level of revenue generation has reduced our ability to do long-term in-house research. Such research is essential if MMSL is to remain a viable source of first class scientific knowledge and expertise for the Canadian minerals industry. Our challenge is not merely to find a balance of revenue and in-house work that

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restores an appropriate balance between revenue and in-house research but to seek revenue work that allows, and indeed requires, MMSL to develop its knowledge and expertise. (ibid., 5)

MMSL and the Policy Menu Framework S&T/Innovation/Commercialization Policies The above quotation provides an immediate lead-in to the first part of our five-part framework of policy menu issues and choices, namely, S&T and innovation/commercialization policies (for a summary of the five-part framework, see table 3.2). Before examining this policy realm more closely, we first need to stress that an early trigger for change for the MMSL came from new leadership in the mid–1980s in the larger hierarchy at the then Department of Energy, Mines and Resources (EMR), the predecessor department to NRCan. New senior management instituted measures generally supported and encouraged by the Mulroney government to increase the commercial and business relevance of all federal labs, including EMR labs such as CANMET (which, as we have seen, then housed both energy and mining and mineral aspects of S&T). The view from the top and from a series of advisory studies (which we reviewed in chapter 2) was that the federal labs were too much like ‘universities without students,’ by which was meant that the labs were insufficiently commercial in focus and were too laissez-faire in their research priorities (de la Mothe 2000; Doern and Kinder 2001). This issue resonates to some extent today as well. For example, the MMSL’s current director states in his introduction to the 2004 Annual Report that the lab ‘is not an organization focused on theoretical science’ (MMSL 2004, 1). In the late 1980s revenue targets were introduced and required as a surrogate way of indicating the extent to which private firms thought that the work of the labs was commercially relevant to them. The test was whether private firms were prepared to pay for research and services they regarded as practical for the corporate bottom line. These initial measures garnered both criticism and support in the lab and elsewhere, the mix depending in part on whether S&T personnel were conducting actual laboratory activities as opposed to funding, brokering, or policy activities. Not surprisingly, long-term scientists criticized the blanket characterization of the labs as ‘universities without students,’ not only in terms of what precisely was meant by these words

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Table 3.2. MMSL highlights and the policy menu framework S&T/innovation/commercialization policies – late-1980s requirement for revenue targets in Mulroney government era – criticized, along with other labs, as too much of a ‘university without students’ despite a historic role of close ties to the mining and metals industry – NRCan ADM for first time not a scientist – PERD program realigned to energy sector, with some negative impacts on MMSL – stronger innovation and commercialization links to industry in 1990s and beyond – debate internally about relative S&T balance between commercial work and public goods work of the lab Sustainable development and environmental policies – early and later CEPA effects on industry led to more environmental focus – pressure on industry for life cycle management of the resource – SD role as ‘triple bottom line’ supported, but ecological sustainability not possible due to non-renewable nature of the resource – more recent link of SD and mandate made to importance of the industry to Aboriginal peoples and also to remote communities – growing role as S&T adviser to industry and federal government due to increased environmental regulation of the industry at federal and provincial levels Parent department mandate and changing political-economic context – NRCan concern about need to overcome ‘old economy’ label for sector – Massive change in positioning of Canadian mining and metals industry as global player investing abroad and also facing environmental pressures there – growing pressure to see the sector as a socio-economic sector rather than only an industrial sector supported by NRCan Macro and micro budgetary management policies – sector affected by specific tax policies – affected by Treasury Board policies on how much earned revenue could be kept – affected by ‘new managerialism’ reforms, performance accounting and reporting, etc. – Program review cuts of 35% in budgets and 25% in personnel, plus 10% further budget cuts later – affected by aging S&T staff and rust-out of lab equipment Changing policy-induced linkages with universities, business, other governments, and communities – University links less important than in 1980s – perhaps 10% of lab activity – links with mining programs at Laurentian and UBC – provided S&T knowledge to students in relevant university programs – great reduction in staff scientific peer-reviewed publications – business links now much more client-focused due to revenue generation – had to overcome some views that it did not listen to business concerns – closer links to business also through environment group – CIDA links and international research work increasing – regional facilities in Sudbury and Val d’Or

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but also in terms of the questions it left unanswered. For example, how were the labs to maintain and rebuild their intellectual capital if their orientation became only ‘commercial’ in some short-term sense? It was clear that a cultural change was occurring in the older CANMET organization and hence also a cultural split, but by the late 1980s these changes had not yet been exacerbated or sharpened by the kinds of deep budget cuts that were to occur later under Program Review (see more below). Thus, after these quite major early changes, there was a sense that the lab had adopted an innovation agenda well before it became the common currency of federal S&T policy discourse. Partly because of its earlier historic work with the mining and metals industry, the lab did not need to be persuaded about innovation per se. Indeed, it was inclined much earlier than many federal S&T labs to directly address concerns about commercialization and productivity. We will see more of this in later discussions regarding SD and the parent department policies of NRCan. In its reports, the lab does of course refer to its innovation roles and offers examples of where its work is innovative with regard to new production processes. For example, in its 2004 Annual Report it notes that ‘considerable effort is being directed towards the use of fuel cells in underground applications’ (MMSL 2004, 3). Sustainable Development (SD) and Environmental Policies SD policies and ideas as a government-wide requirement have been part of the MMSL’s mandate, along with other environmental policies of particular kinds. The need to distinguish between the two areas is important. For example, environmental issues regarding mining and metals, including the growing impact of the revised Canadian Environmental Protection Act (CEPA), emerged in the late 1990s. These issues and pressures generated some new related kinds of funds and pools of money to develop new technologies. But as we have seen, they also brought a different kind of funding and institutional context, one in which the lab (and federal labs as a whole) was not necessarily eligible to obtain such funds. For example, with major S&T and innovation funds such as the Canada Foundation for Innovation (CFI) and the Sustainable Development Technology Fund (SDTF), federal labs such as MMSL were not eligible. Canada’s mining and mineral companies were subject to the above federal environmental policies regarding toxic substances. Also, at the

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provincial level there was growing pressure for mining to be subject to full life-cycle environmental management, from the development of mines, through their ongoing operational stages, to the decommissioning or closing of mines. Crucially as well, Canadian mining companies investing abroad were also subject to environmental stewardship requirements (see more below). So in addition to federal environmental policy per se, the lab was increasingly hearing from mining and mineral companies that needed technological answers to these challenges. The SD policies provide more difficult challenges for the lab, which has adopted the term in its own reports, but has done so under the looser rubric of the ‘triple bottom line.’ In broad terms, the federal government defines SD as efforts to achieve a balance among economic, environmental, and social factors in decision making and in achieving actual outcomes of those decisions. If SD was given a more purely ecological definition of sustainability, the mining and mineral sector and the MMSL could not possibly show results. This is because fundamentally, the sector is dealing with a non-renewable resource. Thus, the lab’s parent Minerals and Metals Sector Branch in NRCan states that ‘it is important that Canada’s minerals and metals industries act and be viewed as economically, socially, and environmentally responsible’ (Minerals and Metals Sector 2004, 1). It also links this triple bottom line requirement to the government’s approach to Aboriginal peoples. The sector is one of the largest employers of Canada’s Aboriginal Canadians, and ‘approximately 1200 Aboriginal communities are located within 200 kilometres of producing mines in Canada’ (ibid., 3). For all of these policy reasons, and because of industry requirements, the lab has a significant SD role. This role is focused in its environment group, which specializes in mine decommissioning, rehabilitation, and the treatment of gaseous and liquid mine and mill effluents, including acidic drainage. It also provides scientific input in the development of environmental policies and regulations for metals. Parent Department Mandates and Political-Economic Contextual Change S&T innovation and SD policy are both government-wide initiatives besides being part of NRCan’s specific mandate. But in a related and crucial sense, the approach taken by labs such as the MMSL has been affected by important changes in the national and global nature of the

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mining and mineral industry as portrayed at the beginning of this chapter. And these changes have percolated through NRCan and through the MMSL as it deals with the industries involved. NRCan (and EMR before it) has both a core role and an instinct to support the industry in much the same way that Industry Canada sees its role as one of supporting the auto industry and other industrial sectors. But the department must act on its supportive instincts in a practical way, aware that mining is largely still a provincial domain and that even in the federal domain, the department does not command all or even close to all the policy levers. To finesse its way through this changing mineral and metals policy and industrial context, NRCan (and earlier EMR) became engaged between 1992 and 1995 in broad policy development processes, one of which was the Whitehorse Mining Initiative. This initiative ultimately centred on policy development processes and consultations with the federal and provincial mines ministers, but it also involved a complex multistakeholder process that included mining companies and their interest groups, national, provincial, and local NGOs, and Aboriginal peoples. The resulting process involved extensive discussions, the carrying out of many studies on particular aspects of mineral and metals policy, and negotiations to produce some areas of consensus. As a result of this initiative and of later pressures and forces in the early years of the twenty-first century, NRCan now has a dual, interlocked picture of the Canadian mining and metals industry. One picture is seen from Canada’s perspective; the other relates to how other countries see (or hopefully see) Canada’s mining industry. As a new economy player, the department sees the mining sector as a worldclass, high-tech producer; as a high-wage (higher than average) sector with high measured productivity; as a provider of considerable employment in remote regions of all provinces and territories; as a vital producer of jobs and growth; as a key vehicle for investment; and as a supplier of mining investment in Canada and internationally (NRCan 2000b). The department’s desire is for Canada’s mining sector to be seen from abroad as present in one hundred or more countries; as sought after to develop foreign economies; as having access to deposits abroad as well as in Canada; as a provider of increased trade from the Canadian mining equipment and service suppliers through foreign operations; and as welcomed by foreign governments and foreign companies. The net effect of this overall transformation is that NRCan – and thus

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also the lab – has to make, foster, and encourage policies and technological developments in the mining and metals sector in much more complex and interactive ways. It has to deal more openly and directly with the sector as a socio-economic sector rather than just an industry sector as SD pressures and globalization forces thread their way through a still very large and important industry for Canada. Inevitably, this means that the department has to adjust its mix of public goods and commercial roles. Macro and Micro Budgetary Management Policies As indicated in chapter 2, macro and micro budgetary policies involve any policies that affect spending and taxation or other forms of revenue raising, and are coupled with related requirements regarding management reporting and accountability. We have already glimpsed some of these impacts on the MMSL: there were differences in the 1980s in the revenue-raising experience of the mining and minerals side of CANMET compared to the energy side, and these differences created considerable institutional resentment. Some of this can be linked to the evolution of Treasury Board policies regarding what revenues the labs were entitled to keep. Initially, none could be kept, but in 1989–90 an agreement was reached that 20 per cent could be kept. The mining and minerals side of CANMET, which originally had a $2 million revenue target set by departmental senior management, became quite good at raising revenues, and some of these early gains enabled it to buy new lab equipment in an otherwise fiscally restrained period for the Government of Canada. By the early 1990s, the rule was that 50 per cent of revenues earned could be kept, but the total amounts were still small. During this period, the units that were to become the MMSL made other changes as well; for example, they instituted total quality management (TQM) and engaged in quite widespread employee consultations. The lab received a TQM award and was also commended by the Auditor General for meeting its revenue targets and for other practices it was developing such as encouraging secondments of S&T personnel both into and out of the organization. But many employees were still quite demoralized, not only by the nature of recent changes but also by the cuts in budgets and staff during the program review process. Program review in 1994–5 imposed a deep and serious review of, and reduction in, federal programs across the Government of Canada (Swimmer 1996). And it quickly became entwined with the reorganiza-

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tion of CANMET, out of which a separate MMSL emerged. These changes were linked to the creation (in 1993) of NRCan, which, as we saw in chapter 2, essentially merged the former EMR with the Canadian Forestry Service (Doern 1995; Doern and Gattinger 2001). The reorganization had also brought about the restructuring of the labs and S&T functions to draw them closer towards the three policy areas in the NRCan mandate; this restructuring included moving the mining and minerals S&T capacity into the jurisdiction of the mineral and metals sector. A further change was that revenue-sharing agreements were again reviewed in a program review context; as a result, a new system of vote netting was agreed to by the department and the Treasury Board. This system had some advantages for NRCan as a department, but it also reduced the new lab’s A-base. Thus, the lab had been more successful at earning revenues than other former CANMET labs, yet it was being penalized for its successes. But most important of all, program review resulted in significant cuts in lab areas: 35 per cent in budgets and 25 per cent in personnel. The formal reorganization to form the current MMSL, which occurred in 1996, was followed in 1998 by a further budget cut of 10 per cent as a consequence of program review. In the years since, the lab has had some budgetary stability, but it has also remained under a cloud of financial uncertainty because operationally, in 2000–1, it was in an operating deficit situation. As a result, NRCan’s senior management, in concert with the lab’s management, have reviewed measures to either enhance still further the now $4 million in revenue the lab earns or to quite radically reorganize the lab and focus on a smaller set of S&T areas and initiatives. The lab has been reasonably successful in increasing its revenue take, but it has also engaged in an internal debate about just how far this strategy should be pursued. It carried out a study in 2000 to explore revenue-raising strategies in the context of concerns about portfolio balance. Should the strategy be to increase such activity, to reduce it, or to stay at the present levels? The study found that it cost the lab about $2.25 to conduct research for which it was receiving only $1 in revenue. From one perspective, this amounted to a support level of about 40 per cent, and this was not a bad result. However, the goal was to spend $2.25 and get $2.25 back – that is, 100 per cent cost recovery. The study also found that the lab was still relatively inefficient at managing and controlling revenue projects. Thus the goal in future years would be to increase the lab’s efficiency so that S&T staff had

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more time for core research. An analysis of time sheets indicated that up to 80 per cent of S&T staff time went to revenue-earning projects and about 20 per cent to other core research of a longer-term nature. Hence, the growing conundrum for the lab was how to secure a better balance between the ‘public goods’ S&T role and the commercial role. Revenue raising was still seen as a good disciplining process and criterion (tied to other tools of project evaluations and impact assessments), but it was also undermining the public goods role, and it was still difficult to arrive at methods for assessing projects within the public goods category. As noted earlier, we need to appreciate how the lab has changed and is functioning in a broader departmental and governmental hierarchy. The lab is not a huge organization, and therefore changes in its own hierarchy may not leap off the ‘organization chart.’ However, compared to its pre-1996 structure, when it comprised two separate laboratories in the CANMET group, it is fair to say that it has become a ‘flatter’ structure, and that it functions in a more collaborative and horizontal manner. This has occurred for two reasons. The first is that the general ethos of ‘reinvented government’ or NPM promoted across the federal government seeks to de-emphasize hierarchical levels (Aucoin 1997; Swimmer 1996). The second is that S&T managers are requiring revenue generation targets as an institutional trigger for a greater focus on dealing with business clients. These developments have meant that projects and work must be related to the real core competences of the lab’s scientific and technical staff – albeit potentially combined in new ways. While some structural loosening has occurred, other bureaucratic elements have remained or have been reconfigured. For example, the lab necessarily functions under a quite explicit set of performance targets, measurable and qualitative, and projects are now managed with a view to assessing impacts, intended and unintended. These are, of course, output and outcome oriented indicators or standards of performance, and these include survey measures of client satisfaction. Another feature of this is that, as we have noted, the lab has gone through an elaborate TQM process and has also sought and achieved international ISO 9000 certification. Because these changes focus on performance, it is usually quite properly argued that they encourage a less hierarchical focus and a less input-oriented focus than in earlier eras of public management (Aucoin 1997). But they are also, for many players in an S&T organization, highly bureaucratic processes. And of

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course, often these processes exist simply because of the demands of public accountability and the need for continuous reporting. In short, the MMSL is still very much a government lab and functions in a political and democratic setting. In the midst of these various processes of change, two other developments occurred that significantly affected the lab’s operations and culture. First, in the larger NRCan departmental hierarchy, the labs were being managed by assistant deputy ministers who for the first time in most employees’ memories were not scientists. They were appointed as managers and expected ‘to manage’ and to manage in new ways. Second, in the realignment of overall S&T funding, the Program of Energy Research and Development (PERD) was placed in the energy sector of NRCan and, in relative terms, made that side of the NRCan operation better off than the mining and minerals side in terms of the amount and relative stability of funding. A further area of related change in the lab centred on personnel or human resource policies and practices. It can be argued that the careers of S&T lab scientists and technical staff have never been planned in the federal government in a full human resource sense. Earlier eras were often very laissez-fare in these human resource matters. But the lab’s evolution meant that it had to be more systematically concerned about S&T human resources, and indeed it has become so. An aging S&T staff is one issue – one that is shared across many public organizations, including universities. The ability to retain existing staff is crucial not only to preserve core competencies but also to invest in their continuing learning and experience. The Treasury Board’s efforts to reclassify ‘research scientist’ positions have also produced new bureaucratic processes. Attracting younger staff is also crucial, not only because they bring new thinking and more recent S&T knowledge but also because any public S&T organization simply must evoke a commitment to provide a stimulating environment and to attract the brightest and the best. To offer S&T and related forms of useful knowledge to clients and the government, such an organization must constantly renew the knowledge embodied in its human capital. If it is seen as a declining stock, others will not be interested in coming – not only businesses but also future staff. In recent years the lab has been concerned about these issues to an ever greater extent, and it has sought to discuss these issues with its employees. But it is not clear that it has been able to adequately address them. The state of the lab’s physical assets is also inseparable from these

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issues. The lab has had to deal with the familiar S&T phenomenon of ‘rust-out’ as its facilities age and deteriorate. Recently begun renovations at 555 Booth Street indicate that some progress has been made on this front, but it is far from enough. Changing Policy-Induced Linkages Finally, we briefly survey changes in the MMSL’s policy-induced linkages with universities, businesses, and other government departments, as well as its linkages internationally and regionally. universities The easiest ‘linkage’ change to characterize in the period covered in this analysis centres on links with universities. Universities were relatively more important to the lab and its CANMET predecessor entities in the 1980s than they are now, when they rank third in the lab’s key relationships, well behind business and the government. Universities – or rather individual researchers and faculty members in universities – received contract funding, which was gradually reduced to very low levels in the 1990s. Estimates are difficult here, but the best one offered to the authors was that university links now come to about 10 per cent of the lab’s activity, down considerably from the 1980s. The 2000 business plan notes that a number of initiatives to partner with other R&D laboratories have been developed. These include private labs, but they also include university links such as with the Mining Industry Research Consortium based at Laurentian University and the Centre for Environmental Research in Minerals, Metals and Materials at the University of British Columbia (MMSL 2000, 5). But the lab’s business plan also indicates that all of these labs ‘address more or less the same clientele, and there may arise instances where MMSL may have to deal with issues of potential competition’ (ibid., 6). Individual university faculty with relevant expertise are of course known to the lab’s staff and are treated as peers, but many university faculty in the mining and mineral sectors are also consultants to firms and are therefore seen as potential competitors as well. In other words, personal individual networks are the norm regarding the lab’s relations with the university sector. Such links are also crucial in identifying competent young graduate students when new positions (rare in recent years) or contract jobs arise. Co-op students from universities such as Laval and UBC have

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worked at the lab’s facilities. About fifteen of the lab’s scientists have an adjunct professor status at various universities. The lab’s statement that universities ‘play an important role in disseminating the knowledge base within MMSL to Canadian students’ is undoubtedly true at a basic level, but there is concern within the lab about a diminishing core of S&T staff graduating from universities for the mining industry as a whole. Potential scientists and engineers may simply perceive that fields and prospects are better in sectors such as information technology and biotechnology. The notion of linkages with universities and academics has also been influenced by changes within the lab regarding how scientists are evaluated and what performance criteria are used. For some, the earlier adage that the lab was like a ‘university without students’ has needed to be replaced with the slogan that it is now increasingly a ‘university without professors.’ In other words, the lab is in danger of not having enough core S&T staff (a balanced portfolio) who have knowledge and do research that others will want to learn about. For example, in the early 1990s the lab’s staff published more than three hundred scientific papers each year. This fell to as few as thirty at one point and is now about sixty. There is also a view prevalent in the lab that promotion within the category of research scientist has been subject to a lowering of the bar in performance criteria. The criteria still include publications and patents, but now they also include presentations and reports, with the latter perceived to be growing in importance. Other S&T staff and managerial personnel see these changes in criteria as a necessary part of the culture shift towards business clients. In most respects, universities are certainly not a key source of funds. In fact, in the past five years they have often been viewed as competitors. This feeling at the lab has been enhanced by the government’s creation of new foundations and funds for which universities are eligible but federal labs are not. business and related clients The situation regarding linkages with business is quite complex. At one level the pattern of change is unambiguous in that the MMSL is far more client focused than it once was. The requirement to generate revenue has anchored this process of doing more partnered work with businesses in the mining and minerals sector. But the nature of these linkages is more complex in that it varies across the lab’s divisions or groups and is bound up in the complex mix of funds and programs

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and regulatory changes (as opposed to simply the direct use of laboratory assets). Space does not allow us to examine all four of the lab’s groups. Accordingly, an illustrative discussion of these dynamics is provided in this section for ground control S&T in the mining group of the lab and for the environment group. The program element on ground control deals with research efforts in the area of mining in highly stressed ground rockbursts, an area of growing importance as the Canadian mining industry increasingly engages in deeper mining. This area of the lab, not unlike others, had to overcome the view in some parts of the mining business community that it sometimes did not listen to business and operational needs and that too many decisions about what S&T to work on were based on elite views of science. Some of these criticisms emerged during Program Review and were part of what led – in the ground control realm and others – to a shift away from S&T ‘discipline-based’ forms of organization towards program and project based forms. The ground control program area has a staff of twenty-five. Since 1998 it has been able to double its revenue earnings from $400,000 to $800,000. It has been rated highly for these gains in business client interest. This is not a huge amount of money, but to get there the culture of the group had to change, and it did change in some important ways. Staff had to deal with both large and small mining companies. They had to canvass these firms, including going back to some mining companies that had earlier been critical of the MMSL. New business networks were fostered and sought, and far more effort was put into project management and business-like criteria in devising and assessing projects. This meant that internally, a more matrix-oriented approach to management occurred and thus more networking among staff at different levels, wherever good people and good ideas could be found. Some of this experience led to efforts across the lab to develop so-called core projects, such as a focus on deep mining. These had the potential to bring larger teams together beyond their separate traditional domains to focus on areas that were of real concern to the industry (and usually to public policymakers at the same time). A second area where the nature of business linkages can be gleaned is in the lab’s environment group. In broad terms, this group deals with further subgroups and areas such as innovations in mine waste management, mine effluent reduction, and control of metals in the environment. These tend to be areas that emerge first as external pressures on

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the mining and metals industry. But these are now internalized policies that fit more naturally with the broader productivity concerns of business. Responsible industry executives now tend to regard ‘triple bottom line’ SD as the goal for their organizations, in recognition that insufficient attention to the environment is one reason why the industry had such a poor public image, and that without good environmental practices and plans, financing is hard to get – let alone permits from a province. In theory, these areas have strong potential to assist the industry’s bottom line and longer-term prosperity, yet initially they were seen as emerging from regulatory pressures and requirements (from different parts of the government, including – very crucially – provincial governments) and were seen as imposing costs more than benefits. Partly because it is newer and is seen as regulatory in nature, business networking here is a harder slog. And this area also brings the lab much more into the realm of government sources of revenue raising rather than industrial. As a result, revenue raising is a very small percentage of the environment group’s activity, and what has been garnered has initially come from sources such as CIDA. But there has been improvement in the direct development of revenues from environmental work. Work in this area is also less stringent regarding fully developed project management. The environment is one area where inherently there is more policy money available. But on the mining side and for the MMSL, some of these funds have not materialized, perhaps because mining is still too easily seen (albeit inaccurately) as ‘old economy.’ Nonetheless, this part of the lab is also encouraging its S&T staff to develop broader integrated views and projects. One of these is the core Sustainable Mining and Rehabilitation Technology (SMART) program now being developed. linkages with other government departments We have discussed the broader federal government context in which the lab functions; now we need to relate the discussion of linkages to other government departments and to the structure of policy funds. As discussed in chapter 1, these increasingly involve partnered and levered forms of funding. To get money, you have to bring money ... or contributions in kind. But while creative network formation is intended by these arrangements, they must also somehow be ‘coordinated’ and reported on in performance terms. One of the key pressures has come from Environment Canada. In

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that department, CEPA legislation triggered the designation of many substances as toxic, with a possible impact on various segments of the mining and metals industry. Smaller pockets of funding also became available, such as for work on metals in the environment. The previously mentioned CIDA funding also materialized but could never be taken for granted. Indeed, some of this funding was referred to as Cbase, to highlight its instability relative to the A-base or to any new money that might arise from the estimates and the annual budget process. The lab also interacted with the provinces through the various inspectors of mines in situations where science-based information was needed in order to underpin efforts to harmonize mine safety interprovincially. In the earlier 1990s, the leadership of the lab (then a part of the larger CANMET organization) was not keen about seeking out or advocating the creation of policy funds. Some of this reluctance was simply due to the overall climate of the early 1990s, when things were being cut. But in recent years the lab’s leadership has begun to seek out such funding opportunities. A recent example has been the lab’s involvement in the development of a Northern S&T Strategy, a government-wide initiative involving numerous federal departments. Thus the lab has sought to cultivate and respond to the larger networks of funding and influence within and among governments. But there is also a sense of caution – as there is in other federal labs – about just how many of these policy signals, funds, and opportunities they can effectively respond to. other linkages The above discussion suggests broadly an MMSL whose linkages with universities are still important but have atrophied, but whose linkages with business and related clients have become strengthened, more varied, more technology centred, and more revenue centred and commercially oriented. But other kinds of networks are also present that may not be well captured in the above discussion simply because of the examples of the lab’s groups we have chosen to illustrate. We can only briefly mention some of the others; note, though, that this brevity is not intended to indicate their lack of importance in the total scheme of things. One example of other kinds of networks is simply the normal regional configurations of working relationships based on industrial location. Thus, as noted earlier, the MMSL has regional facilities in

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Sudbury and Val d’Or. There is always some discussion within the organization triggered by periodic calls from the political system to ‘do more for the regions’ or to start up a new lab in a particular province or setting. The previously noted links to provincial governments and mine inspection and mine safety are a quintessentially regional activity, and of course mining activity is located at hundreds of hinterland sites linked crucially to one-industry towns and communities. Given that Canada is a country of regions, it should be no surprise that there is some pressure to have segments of federal S&T activity located in Canada’s regions. Another example of linkage is the lab’s involvement in international networks. Some of this occurs through the natural processes of exchange among the lab’s staff and through international peers and international S&T literature and reports. And some can be fostered, as we have seen, by involvement in funding from CIDA and by other development funding. But even more compellingly, it is the true globalization of the Canadian mining and mineral industry that is anchoring the increased attention to international networks. Significantly, the lab also has an international office so as to manage these links and create more. This is a feature that the other labs in our case studies have not developed to anywhere near the same extent. Conclusions The MMSL, linked to the predecessor CANMET bodies, has changed considerably in the past twenty years as a federal S&T laboratory and institution. The lab has had to respond to, take advantage of, and in other senses adapt and survive amidst changing policies at the federal level and in the underlying dynamics of the mining and minerals industry – an industry that has been massively transformed and that remains important to the Canadian economy, to numerous hinterland-based communities, and to modern environmental management and SD. Changes in parent department mining and minerals policy priorities and growing links with environmental policy and NRCan’s own statutory SD obligations have also been apparent. Stronger innovation and commercialization policy influences have occurred for the lab, but overall it has always focused strongly on industry. The lab’s concern with portfolio balance between its commercial role and its public goods role has increased over the period as a whole. This is inevitably linked to the overall balance between A-base funding and the avail-

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ability and use of policy or program funds. The lab has been a more reluctant user of policy funds compared to some other federal labs. Moreover, not all of its needs could possibly be met by such funds. It faces a heavy need for renewed capital investment in situations where the best modern lab facilities cost several times the equipment they are replacing. This chapter has shown that there are challenges aplenty for a lab of this kind precisely because the mining and minerals industry has itself had to adapt both to the sustainable development age and to a Canadian and global mineral industry that is structured very differently from what it was fifteen to twenty years ago. Greater environmental pressures and the changed nature of mining technologies in Canada and in other countries mean that the lab’s role in support of governmental regulation (federal, provincial and international) can only increase. The analysis has also shown that there is great institutional diversity within a such a lab. It is no easy thing to determine where the boundaries of the lab as an organization are drawn and where the boundaries between the public and private sectors reside. As emphasized from the outset, a lab must be seen as an institutional melange of fixed laboratory assets, S&T specialists engaged in research, policy-centred funds, and complex brokerage activities involving public servants who, in the majority, consist of S&T experts. The analysis shows that the MMSL is certainly a more networked body than earlier, as well as a differently networked entity. The lab’s linkages with universities are less extensive and are a reduced part of the lab’s overall activities. University links do vary across the four groups, but if national and local regional innovation systems imply links with universities and business, then for this lab, this is not a fully developed triple relationship. We have seen as well that networks with business have been strengthened and deepened, but that the nature of these linkages and S&T activities varies enormously among the lab’s groups, even between the small sample of two that we looked at only illustratively. The lab’s linkages with other government departments and with its parent department have also become more extensive, in part due to the complexity of policies and policy changes and in part due to related experimentation with new funds and programs. Levered funding requires the lab to seek and find partners and funds, and thus the key networking activity of brokering has become ever more important.

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Some S&T personnel at the lab see this as an opportunity for useful flexibility and even entrepreneurship within and outside the organization. At the same time, the rise of levered funding has produced new rules, constraints, and accountability and performance regimes that to other S&T staff may look and feel a lot like just more bureaucracy. The MMSL needs to replenish its links with universities at a time when universities themselves are becoming more commercially oriented in some areas of their work. All of this complicates the problem of communicating and debating the precise relationships that exist between commercial and public good roles for natural resource-focused labs. The practical solutions to environmental regulation in the mining and mineral industry cannot help but involve intensive public and private sector involvement in designing and implementing new production methods that support and enhance sustainable development.

4 The CANMET Energy Technology Centre–Devon and the Alberta Oil Sands

The mining and mineral sector remains important to the Canadian economy and to many communities. The energy sector is even more central; in the early years of the twenty-first century, as in the past, it is vital to the everyday life of all Canadians. It also lies at the epicentre of the often contentious relations between the federal government and the energy-producing provinces, Alberta in particular. The geopolitics of oil and natural gas are also at an elevated state: both the United States and Canada see the vast Alberta oil sands as a source of future energy security. This awareness has been augmented in the past several years as the international status of the oil sands as a proven reserve has been consolidated (Chastko 2004). Both the International Energy Agency (IEA) and American energy regulators now count the Alberta oil sands as the second-largest oil resource in the world, exceeded only by that of Saudi Arabia. Indeed, Alberta’s minister of energy has declared that Alberta and Canada have ‘centuries of supplies’ (Canadian Press 2006), more than enough for Albertans and Canadians, as well as the United States, Canada’s main export market. The oil sands reserve and its development are also increasingly central to NRCan as an energy department and an energy policymaker. Our second case study lab, the CANMET Energy Technology Centre–Devon (hereafter referred to as the Devon lab) functions in this crucial industrial and natural resource realm. It stresses that ‘Canada’s oil sands and heavy oil deposits represent one third of the world’s petroleum resources. Production levels are expected to surpass conventional light and off-shore oil production in Canada by the year 2010’ (NRCan 2005, 1). NRCan, as the chief federal energy policy department, views the resource’s development as consistent with the federal govern-

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ment’s overall energy policy since the mid-1980s, when first the Mulroney Conservatives and then the Chrétien Liberals pursued promarket policies and also policies geared to opening North American markets – a policy even more strongly endorsed by the Alberta government (Plourde 2005; Doern 2005; Brownsey 2005). This continued to be the dominant policy stance even as the Chrétien and subsequent Martin Liberal governments committed themselves to the more interventionist Kyoto Protocol (Brownsey 2005) and its requirements to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. Put simply, Kyoto is being pursued but so also is oil sands development, the source of an ever greater proportion of Canada’s future energy supply and greenhouse gas emissions. In this lab case study we discuss the regional lab in Devon, Alberta, as well as, more generally, the energy portion of NRCan’s mandate. We examine how the Devon lab has evolved and changed as an institution, basically in the past fifteen years but also in some respects as far back as 1982, when the lab was established with a focus at that time on coal research. Mandate and Origins The Devon lab’s purpose is described in its business plan as being synonymous with that of the broader CANMET Energy Technology Branch of NRCan. Thus its vision is that it ‘will be a valued public investment in science and technology for a sustainable energy future that benefits all Canadians’ (CWRC 2001, 9). Its mission is that, like the CETB, ‘in partnership with its clients and stakeholders, it will contribute to: • using energy wisely • extending our hydrocarbon resource base, and • increasing the share of alternative fuels and renewable energy thereby enhancing the social, economic, and environmental wellbeing of Canadians by: – advancing knowledge – contributing to policy development – developing and deploying technologies, and – providing specialized products and services’ (ibid., 9). More specifically, the lab’s niche within the CETB is ‘to maximize wealth and jobs from the exploitation of Canada’s hydrocarbon energy resources, while minimizing negative environmental impacts.’ The lab

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is to achieve this ‘through focused, cooperative hydrocarbon S&T and technology transfer that contributes to a more sustainable hydrocarbon production sector in Canada’ (ibid., 9). The lab is based in Devon, Alberta, near Edmonton, and is located mainly in the Devon Research Centre, a research facility owned and operated by the Province of Alberta. The organization consists of two on-site research labs: Advanced Separation Technologies (AST), and the National Centre for Upgrading Technologies, which is a joint venture between NRCan and the Alberta government. As we will see, these two subunits of the Devon lab enjoy considerable independence in their operations and decision making. Also, the Devon lab founded – and is the federal delivery mechanism for – the Petroleum Technology Research Centre (PTRC) in Regina, Saskatchewan. The Regina lab is a conventional and heavy oil research partnership involving the Saskatchewan Department of Energy and Mines, the Saskatchewan Research Council, the University of Regina, and private industry. We refer later to the Regina lab, but it is not the focus of the chapter. The Devon lab opened as a research centre in 1982 with a focus on coal research.1 Some of this initial focus was due to the fact that energy forecasters in the late 1970s, such as the Club of Rome, had predicted real limits to the supply of oil and gas; thus federal policymakers deemed that coal needed more research and policy attention as a longterm source of energy supply. In the mid to late 1980s, as we have seen in earlier chapters, a key shift occurred in the management of NRCan (then the Department of Energy, Mines and Resources); as a consequence, revenue generation was made a key test of whether the lab’s research was of commercial relevance. The coal industry was reluctant to pay for more public-sector S&T work, in part because of the chronic oversupply of coal and a general economic downturn in the sector. There was a move away from coal and a new focus on the potentially huge but not yet technologically realized oil sands resource of Northern Alberta (Chatsko 2004). The current lab took shape in the early to mid 1990s. The NCUT component became a key element in 1995 after the decision was made

1 The lab’s original name was the CANMET Western Research Centre (CWRC). The CWRC designation is found in some of the sources cited for this chapter but otherwise we refer to the lab by its current name or simply as the Devon lab.

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to amalgamate the bitumen and heavy oil upgrading technology programs of Canada and Alberta and co-locate them in Devon. These decisions were partly a consequence of program reviews and budget cuts in both governments in the face of huge fiscal deficits, but they were also a result of changing views about decentralization. The Devon lab was also shaped by the formation of NRCan’s CANMET Energy Technology Centre (CETC), itself emerging from a 1996 amalgamation of three earlier CANMET divisions dealing with energy research, alternative energy, and energy efficiency. These divisions in turn can be traced back to the earliest years of the twentieth century (Ignatieff 1981). The joint evolution of the CETC and the Devon lab in the 1990s must also be linked to the formation of NRCan itself in 1993 and to later decisions to bring the S&T labs and units closer to their respective main policy realms within NRCan (energy, mining and minerals, and forestry) instead of keeping them under one overall sector for S&T as had been the case earlier. In 2001–2 the lab had 125 staff, around 70 of whom were indeterminate employees. The rest were term employees, students, and so on (CWRC 2001, 44). Its total budget in 2001–2 was $18.7 million: $10.6 million for the AST and $8.1 for the NCUT. The lab was funded as follows: $7.3 million in federal funding (from PERD, as well as A-base funding); $2.4 million from Alberta; and $9.0 million from other sources (industry, universities, and technology developers). Only about 20 per cent of the lab’s budget came from A-base federal funding. The sister lab in Regina had a $4 million annual budget. In addition, the Devon lab was managing the $6 million, four-year federal contribution to the $35 million IEA Weyburn CO2 Monitoring project (ibid., 1). Currently, the Devon lab comprises the two technology groups already mentioned, along with Finance and Administration, the Business and Planning Office, and the Director’s Office (CWRC 2001). The two core technology groups consist of Advanced Separation Technologies (AST) and the National Centre for Upgrading Technology (NCUT). AST comprises the following: • • • • • •

Tailings and Environmental Program Field Applications and Engineering Program Multiphase Program Froth Treatment Pilot Facility Spectroscopy and Electrochemistry Program management team

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while NCUT consists of: • • • • • • • •

NCUT–Canada/Alberta Research Alliance primary and field upgrading team secondary upgrading and refining team analytical team Alberta/Canada Management Committee NCUT management team NCUT technical advisory committee pilot plant operations team. (CWRC 2002)

The AST unit conducts fundamental and applied research ‘to develop and implement leading-edge multi-phase separation technologies for the petroleum and environmental industries.’ It takes a focused approach based on ‘a fundamental understanding of the principles governing industrial processes’ (CWRC 2001, 3). It ‘champions research and development initiatives that offer Alberta and Canadian companies competitive advantages in the world marketplace’ (ibid.). More specifically, the three main goals set out in the 2001–4 CWRC business plan are to: • reduce capital and operating costs and greenhouse gas emissions during production of clean, dry oil; • develop sustainable reclamation options for oil sand tailings; and • create more energy-efficient, multi-phase separation technologies for complex oil/water/solids mixtures in downstream, recycle and disposal process streams. (ibid., 4) AST staff see their unit as having first an economic mandate to make the industry more productive, though always in the context of a responsible industry. The idea of responsible energy serves as the link with the unit’s environmental mandate and its pursuit of the Canadian public interest. Boundaries here are sometimes blurred; that said, the AST sees about half its projects as 100 per cent market oriented and the other half as related to the environment and the public interest. In the latter vein fall its efforts to contribute to Canadian university research and education in an applied way (see the later discussion of university linkages). While the NCUT’s mandate flows from the Devon lab’s broader mandate, it further describes itself as ‘Canada’s premier upgrading S&T organization,’ one that performs ‘breakthrough and incremental

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research, and technical services for its industrial, academic, and government clients and collaborators’ (ibid., 5). More specifically, the upgrading unit has three goals – namely, to get bitumen to the refinery; make bitumen upgrading attractive within Canada; and fit bitumen into the modern refinery (ibid., 6–7). The first goal is premised on the unalterable fact that Canadian crude oil is landlocked. Thus, for heavy oil to enjoy wider use there has to be ‘improved market access for heavy oil, bitumen, bitumen-derived crudes and related products [which includes NCUT’s work in] developing partial upgrading technologies that can be implemented at isolated well sites to lower the viscosity and density of the heavy oil, while also removing some of the impurities and dispersed water’ (ibid., 6). This in turn is linked to the fact that there are not many upgraders in Canada. Hence, the second goal is to use S&T to reduce the investment risks and thereby make such investment attractive. The third goal flows from the fact that most refineries are not well suited for processing bitumen-derived crude; hence the upgrader unit and other industrial S&T activities have key roles to play as well. Changing Priorities The changes or rankings (explicit or implicit) in the Devon lab’s priorities can be glimpsed by comparing its business plans for 1995–8, 1998– 2001, and 2001–4. The 1995–8 business plan did not have an ‘environmental scan’ section similar to those in the two later plan documents, but in its roughly equivalent ‘issues’ section, the lab did capture the external key stakeholder/client needs that it was responding to in the mid-1990s. It stressed the following issues and needs: • The oil sands and heavy oil industry is the ‘primary industrial client representing about 85% of WRC’s total program effort.’ • The federal Program of Energy Research and Development (PERD) is the primary government client. With the establishment of NCUT, the Alberta Department of Energy also becomes an important government client. • The Canadian hydrocarbon supply industry is stressed, both its absolute $24 billion size in 1993 and its expected growing contribution to Canadian GDP by 2000. • The sustainable development of Canada’s oil sands resource is a national challenge. But it is also ‘practical and viable and requires

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less capital per barrel of output than comparable energy projects.’ (CWRC 1995, 1–2) Interestingly, but in a different section of the plan, the lab also referred to the notion that its energy R&D programs would also ‘recognize future Canadians as equally important stakeholders so that sustainable development is a core attribute of work’ (ibid., 3). The internal issues addressed by the 1995–8 plan emphasized the critical influence of program review. The 45 per cent cut from $13 million to $7.2 million meant that the ‘division will become, almost exclusively, an S&T performer with very limited resources available for contracted out research’ (ibid., 2). The document then made a direct link between these cuts and the need to forge new collaborative efforts, such as the NCUT but also the Froth Treatment Consortium and the Canadian Oil Sands Network for Research and Development (CONRAD). Both are discussed later in this chapter. The 1998–2001 and 2001–4 business plans contain sections on the lab’s environmental scan, and for these later periods the listed items are similar. The 2001–4 list is as follows: • External Factors – Canada’s oil sands prize – the role of energy S&T in oil sands and heavy oil development – the environmental impact of oil sands and heavy oil development – the economic benefits of oil sands and heavy oil development – the social benefits of oil sands and heavy oil development – North American energy policy – global climate change • Internal Factors – NRCan’s sustainable development strategy – the need for innovation in energy S&T – roles, relationships, and partnerships – role in energy S&T – the role of federal S&T (BEST and STEPS Reports) – the S&T management framework These lists point to some constants in overall priorities, such as the economic focus on the oil sands and heavy oil and its ever growing reality and potential; but they also indicate a strong shift, from the budget cuts focus of the earlier program review period to a twin focus on

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North American energy opportunities under American energy policy and the rise of the climate change issue (Chastko 2004; Doern 2005). Federal innovation strategies and sustainable development (SD) strategies, and their links, are also mentioned more explicitly, as are several aspects of federal S&T policy and S&T management relating to the BEST and STEPS reports of the Council of Science and Technology Advisors (CSTA), and the human resource and planning pressures and needs discussed by these reports. The more recent ‘environmental scan’ elevated climate change and SD policy goals, but always with a linked emphasis on the idea that the oil sands are a crucial economic opportunity for Canada and Alberta. Thus the current business plan notes that ‘while we find ourselves working within a sector that is to a large extent focussed on climate change issues, CWRC helps provide the Energy Sector [of NRCan] with some balance by working on both climate change issues and within NRCan’s sustainable development framework through the development and transfer of energy-related technologies that improve energy efficiency, profitability, and competitiveness of the oil sands and heavy oil industry’ (CWRC 2001, iii). CETC–Devon and the Policy Menu Framework S&T/Innovation/Commercialization Policy Federal S&T–innovation–commercialization policy had an impact on the mandate mix and profile of the CETC–Devon lab as an S&T performer, a funding supporter, and a broker of S&T activities. As was the case with our first NRCan lab case study in chapter 3, an early trigger for change in the lab came from new leadership in the mid-1980s in the broader hierarchy of what was then the Department of Energy, Mines and Resources (EMR). New senior management instituted measures to increase the commercial and business relevance of all federal labs, including EMR labs such as CANMET (which at the time was a separate sector within EMR and housed both energy and mining and mineral aspects of S&T). Revenue targets were imposed as a means to show the extent to which private firms thought that the work of the labs was commercially relevant (see table 4.1 for a summary of the policy menu framework as it applies to the Devon lab). As one consequence, industry became involved in projects at an earlier stage than in the past and engaged itself in utilizing and commercializing results.

102 Strategic Science in the Public Interest Table 4.1. The Devon lab and the policy menu framework S&T/Innovation/Commercialization Policies – late 1980s revenue targets required by Mulroney government to spur commercialization – PERD funding reduced in late 1980s by about 70% of early 1980s – lab always had an innovation–commercial focus to both its core oil sands work and its environmental work – by mid-1990s lab had already helped reduce the costs of oil sands production Sustainable development (SD) and environmental policies – late 1980s Fine Tailings Fundamentals Consortium to solve key environmental problem of the oil sands – 1990s Green Plan funding on climate change came and then disappeared – late 1990s TEAM aspect of climate change funding available – SD supported as triple bottom line concept, but not possible as ecological concept due to the pollution and GHG in all aspects of oil sands Parent department mandate and changing political-economic context – pro-market energy policy of both Mulroney and Chrétien governments – departmental support for oil sands as ‘national prize’ – 2004–5 official confirmation of oil sands reserves propelling Canada into second place behind Saudi Arabia – earlier processes via NTFOSS and CONRAD that recognized the environmental and technical problems of the oil sands and came to work on them jointly with business – support for Alberta resource by consolidating the lab in Devon, Alberta – climate change initiatives supported by NRCan but simultaneously supported oil sands development since Canada more and more dependent on oil sands for future oil supply Macro and micro budgetary management policies – AST cut 60% but as a result forced it to focus; staff cut to 12 but has since expanded to 50 due to new partnered private-sector funding – NCUT had smaller cuts but budget then frozen with subsequent de facto erosion due to inflation, but since expanded due to partnered funding – strong ethos in regional location of performance-based small work teams on project basis – less of an equipment ‘rust-out’ problem than many other labs Changing policy-induced linkages with universities, business, other governments, and communities – University linkages secondary overall and less important than in early 1980s – links at individual faculty level and through student research – links with University of Alberta, and universities in the United States and UK – CFI funding tied in to University of Alberta on Tailings Research Centre Network – formal lab funding of University of Regina Petroleum Technology Research Centre – business links dominant and well developed, especially with big oil companies involved in oil sands R&D; considerable partnered funding – regional Alberta links strong including formal Government of Alberta involvement in the NCUT

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The CETC (of which the Devon lab was a part) was also created to address a second, closely related cultural feature – namely, the need to move away from the separate internal hierarchies of the previous labs in the earlier CANMET organization and to develop and manage projects in a more integrated fashion across disciplines and labs (CANMET 1990, 1991, 1994). But in the late 1980s, these cultural changes and issues had not yet been exacerbated by deep budget cuts of the sort that were to occur under Program Review (see more below) and – most crucially for energy policy purposes – under PERD, the lab’s principal funder. PERD is the principal means for funding non-nuclear energy R&D in the federal government. NRCan’s Office of Energy R&D administers this $58 million fund (it had been almost $200 million in the mid1980s). The fund is allocated by means of a policy and planning process that is closely linked to NRCan’s energy policy through an annually updated document called the Energy Priority Framework (EPF) and through its associated S&T Companion Document. It is the Companion Document that defines the strategic intents (of which there are currently six), their associated strategic directions (currently fourteen), and the objectives (currently forty-two); together, these provide the overall planning and results framework used by PERD and by the department to set priorities for all the non-nuclear energy S&T that NRCan supports. The PERD component of NRCan’s energy S&T is delivered through eleven federal departments and agencies. About 50 per cent of the funds go to NRCan, the balance to other departments such as Environment Canada, Transport Canada, and the National Research Council to support energy-related R&D. The Devon lab must network and build stable relations and repeat business, in the knowledge that the industrial climate for undertaking research varies with the state of energy markets and with broader trends in energy policy. And of course, these performance and reporting processes often exist simply because of the demands of public accountability and the need for continuous reporting to demonstrate efficiency, effectiveness, and impact. The lab has not undergone any noticeable shifts along the full S&T– innovation–commercialization discourse traced in chapter 1. For the full history covered in this chapter, it has focused strongly on commercialization with regard to its primary industry work and also with regard to its environmental mandates, though quite properly, it does cast some of its environmental work as a public goods S&T–innovation role.

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SD and Environmental Policies As indicated above, SD as an overall federal policy certainly enters the lab’s thinking, actions, and discourse. That said, its expression is tied to other general environmental policy goals, in particular to climate change policy. A key contextual policy (and funding) factor that entered the lab’s planning domain between 1998 and 2001 was the re-emerging issue of climate change. Climate change funding had been part of the 1990 federal Green Plan, but by the late 1990s it was being linked much more closely to the Kyoto Protocol commitments that the federal government was expected to soon have to make, and that it did make in the fall of 2002 (Doern 2005). As we have discussed earlier, the late 1990s funding included new kinds of funds and related pools of money to develop new technologies. In principle, this brought back into the policy and mandate domain some of the same areas of S&T that had been wound down in the preceding few years (including coal). But it brought them back through different kinds of funding and institutional mechanisms in which the lab could not participate directly. For example, regarding major S&T and innovation funds such as the Canada Foundation for Innovation (CFI), and the new Sustainable Development Technology Fund (SDTF), federal labs were not eligible. Another example that affected the lab was the Technology Early Action Measures (TEAM) component of the Climate Change Action Fund (Wolfe 2002). TEAM brings together private and public sector partners to identify, develop, and support promising environmental technologies that have the greatest potential to reduce greenhouse gases. Even earlier, however, key environmental challenges had been influencing the way the organization was functioning vis-à-vis its industrial clientele. In 1989 the oil industry formed the Fine Tailings Fundamentals Consortium to deal with the issue of fine tailings. When bitumen began to be extracted, the tailing ponds began to fill very rapidly ‘with a slowly dewatering suspension of fine mineral particles called “fine tailings”’ (CWRC 1995, 19). This fluid had to be stored, but its containment was a major cost and environmental problem. Originally intended as a business–government consortium to provide and review basic scientific data, the consortium gradually became a key learning vehicle for all players, including the Devon lab. It became a network for technology development and for levered investments in highly applied energy–environment issues involving production- and laboratory-scale problems and solutions.

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As the previously cited business plans have shown, SD was viewed by the lab in terms of the ‘triple bottom line’ notion of SD. The lab could argue that it was contributing to a balanced sense of economic, social, and environmental development, but it could not claim that it was contributing to sustainable development in terms of ecological criteria. The oil sands were fundamentally extremely harmful to ecological sustainability not only because, as with the mining sector, they were a non-renewable resource, but also because they were a heavy emitter of carbons and greenhouse gases. This is why, as we have seen, the lab expresses its environmental work carefully, emphasizing that this work helps technologically to reduce but not eliminate the adverse environmental effects of the oil sands resource. Parent Department Mandates and Contextual Economic Change The Devon lab casts the oil sands as a ‘national prize’; so does NRCan, its parent policy department. Central to the lab’s mandate is the growth and maturation of the oil sands as a national and Alberta energy resource. The oil sands were already benefiting from S&T, which had helped reduce production costs from about $30 a barrel in the late 1980s to future estimated costs of around $15 by 2000. So by the late 1980s it was already assuming an increasing role as a source of Canada’s oil supply (15 per cent in 1988). Yet another stakeholder and combined governmental impetus – and a crucial one – was the work of the National Task Force on Oil Sands Technology (NTFOSS). In May 1995 this task force issued its key report, in which it proposed a development strategy to triple oil sands production to over 50 per cent of Canada’s domestic supply by 2020 (NWRC 1995, 12). The task force recommended changes to the Alberta and federal fiscal regimes; it also contained recommendations for S&T and SD. In its S&T components, the task force recommended five strategies to ‘ensure that the incremental improvements and step-out or breakthrough technologies are identified, developed, demonstrated and commercialized’ (ibid., 12). The sections of the report on SD contained recommendations regarding improvements in energy conservation, greenhouse gas emissions, land use/reclamation, air quality, water conservation/quality, and biodiversity. All of these aspects were technology-driven. NRCan also supported the formation in 1994 of the Canadian Oil Sands Network for Research and Development (CONRAD). CAN-

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MET, via the Devon lab, joined nine major oil companies, two Alberta universities, three other research organizations, and one provincial funding agency to form this network. The network arose out of a series of discussions between 1992 and 1994 that led to the incorporation of CONRAD under Alberta law in October 1994. The network was formed to accelerate the advancement of oil sands technology through cooperative efforts and to enhance the competitiveness of the oil sands industry. Four technical planning groups were initially established in the areas of agreed-upon research: environment, in situ recovery, upgrading, and mining and extraction (ibid., 10). More specifically, the network’s three goals are to: 1 improve the performance of the oil sands industry through superior new technologies; 2 improve the effectiveness and quality of oil sands research; and 3 develop technologies that will boost industry’s environmental performance. (CONRAD 1998, 9) Initially, in the mid-1990s, CONRAD became the vehicle for directing about one-third of its members’ $100 million annual budgets on oil sands research. The Devon lab had staff members sitting on each of the technical planning groups as well as attending CONRAD National Coordinating Council meetings. One of the initial projects to emerge from the network was the Froth Treatment Facility, begun in 1995. This was a joint venture between CANMET and three companies (Syncrude, Suncor, and Bitmin) to carry out projects on froth/emulsion treatment and handling. Froths and emulsions ‘are intermediate products in the recovery of bitumen from oil sands and require further treatment to remove water (containing dissolved salt) and fine solids’ (CWRC 1995, 8). The froth treatment facility takes bitumen froth from a ‘primary separation stage and removes water, solids and other contaminants to produce a clean product that can be fed into a pipeline or sent on for further processing to an upgrader’ (ibid.). The froth treatment facility was one of the first CANMET–industry partnerships to design, construct, and operate a research facility. Its learning curve involved novel working agreements in which there was good will from the start as well as a strong disposition to share information and expertise. NRCan’s website for the Devon lab captures this deep commitment to the development of the oil sands resource. It states that ‘at CETC–

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Devon, we aspire to catch the spirit of the explorers, surveyors and researchers who paved the way for the development of Canada’s oil sands and heavy oil resources. We strive to apply that same spirit to our own work. We use that spirit when exploring new ways to overcome challenges, when seeking solutions to problems, and when working to acquire the knowledge required to create new opportunities’ (NRCan, 2005, 1). Macro and Micro Budgetary Management Policies With respect to the impacts of macro and micro budgetary management policies, a number of examples warrant discussion across the time period covered in this chapter. As we saw in previous chapters, program review in 1994–5 imposed a deep and serious review of, and reduction in, federal programs across the Government of Canada. Across all of CANMET, reductions from Program Review I and II amounted to about 30 per cent of total resources (see more on the Devon lab cuts below). And the program review process soon drove a reorganization of CANMET. Out of this, the CETC emerged (and a reconfigured Devon lab as well). Program review resulted in significant cuts in many CANMET areas of S&T, including fossil fuels (especially coal), natural gas, and combustion – the very areas that had been focal points dating back to the expansive days of the Trudeau-era National Energy Program (Doern and Toner 1985). But under the later1980s and early-1990s assumptions of pro-market energy policies – policies supported by both the Mulroney Conservative government and the Chrétien Liberal government – these S&T-related activities became expendable or at least not politically difficult to cut. During these years, reorganizations also began to occur. As already mentioned, one of these was the formation of the CETC and the movement of the core research capacity on heavy oil upgrading (which became the NCUT) to the sister agency, the CANMET Western Research Centre in Devon. This decision was made before federal program review but was implemented during program review (see below). The Devon lab was well aware that many provincial research agencies were being wound up or severely reduced in capacity in the midst of the budget cuts of the early and mid 1990s. The Devon lab is not a big organization. For some time it has structured itself around a quite minimal number of hierarchical levels and has had an operational orientation around team- and project-based

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groups. Thus it was well ahead of the general ethos of ‘reinvented government’ that was being promoted across the federal government and that was seeking to de-emphasize hierarchical levels. The lab’s work is structured around a quite explicit set of performance targets, both measurable and qualitative, and manages its projects with a view to assessing impacts, both intended and unintended. The principles of this system are laid out by the central agencies and are required by the senior management of the parent Energy Technology Branch. Within the lab, the AST group was hit harder than most by program review cuts. It absorbed 60 per cent cuts that brought the lab down to twelve professional staff and about a $1 million budget (not including salaries). For its part, the NCUT had to deal with being relocated to Alberta. The first decision that the AST group had to make was whether the remaining 40 per cent enabled it to continue to exist. It concluded that it could continue to function, provided that it focused its work, and provided that it was given the flexibility to do its own business. The group made a deliberate strategic choice to adjust and respond quickly to program review imperatives; thus it made cuts that, among other results, created a fund that allowed it to move into other key areas. One of these was the froth treatment facility. At present, the AST group has about fifty staff and a $3 million budget, which is derived largely from business partnerships and $3 million in public sector funds. In hindsight, the AST does not see program review overall as a negative experience. This group is an S&T unit that knows it must look after itself, and it is proud that it does. It senses that relative to the mid-1990s, it is now a lab that is successfully positioned with regard to its mandate vis-à-vis the government and NRCan and vis-à-vis its business partners and clients. It exudes a strong sense of self-confidence that it is dealing with new and ongoing S&T needs that are both market and mandate tested. As a result, it need not look for work; work comes to it, on the basis of its good track record and strong reputation in the industry. The group is organized around self-directed work teams of about five S&T staff each, with team leaders having considerable autonomy. Teams are formed around specific projects rather than ongoing R&D activities. The projects emerge out of discussions and debates at the beginning of each year, and include room for new ideas that have survived a process of bidding in which as many as ten candidate projects

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or ideas are rejected for every one that is selected. Resource levels are then decided on, as are agreed levels of effort, processes of review, and deliverable results. This approach must be linked to the group’s budget process. It first takes its A-base and PERD funding, all of which is also assessed on a project basis. It then estimates its cost-recovery income, which it gets as, in effect, a loan from NRCan and the Treasury Board. There is no earmarked budget for administration or for the Devon lab director’s office, so these items are taken off the top of the total estimated budget, along with rent. The remainder is the de facto budget, which is under the control of the manager of the AST group; this is allocated to the individual projects’ team leaders. A key difference between the NCUT and the AST is that under program review, federal funding has been set as a fixed amount and thus the AST has lost funding in real terms due to inflation. In effect, from this part of its budget the AST has lost 1.5 people per year. But it has more than made up for these losses through private sector funding. It suffered cuts due to program review partly because of decisions of Ottawa-based staff not to move to Alberta, but it still had some of these salary budgets and thus was able to hire other federal S&T staff from NRCan and from other parts of the federal S&T cadre, as well as from the private sector. With respect to personnel policies and related capacity issues, the Devon lab faced the same broad challenges already set out in chapter 3’s case study. Thus, the state of the lab’s physical assets is inseparable from the issue of attracting highly qualified staff. The lab has had to deal to some extent with the familiar S&T phenomenon of ‘rust-out’ as its facilities age and deteriorate. But in general, this has been somewhat less of a problem for the Devon lab than for other federal labs, in part because its oil sands collaborations simply required – and obtained funding for – state-of-the-art pilot plant facilities, which are the core business of the lab. Indeed, the lab sees its uniqueness in the way in which it has focused on, and seeks to provide, crucial middlelevel ideas and technology between lab-scale and pilot-scale operations. These are especially crucial to the oil sands sector. Changing Policy-Induced Linkages Core relationships and linkages with universities, business, and other interests such as other federal departments and provincial govern-

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ments are the product of the above policies, and they in turn influence and reshape these policies as the S&T lab evolves and adjusts. Not surprisingly, the Devon lab views its key linkages with universities and business in terms of regional links with an Alberta-based and Albertacentred oil sands resource. universities The easiest network linkages to characterize in the period covered in this analysis are those with universities. Universities were relatively more important to the CANMET predecessor entities in the 1980s than they were for most of the 1990s and the 2000–5 period. But some interesting links have been emerging in recent years. Universities – or rather, individual researchers and faculty members in universities – received contract funding, but this was gradually reduced to very low levels in the 1990s by the above-mentioned budget cuts. The earlier small funding program did allow for dialogue, and some of this valuable contact was lost after the Program Review cuts. Individual university faculty with relevant expertise are, of course, known to the lab’s staff and are treated as peers. In other words, personal individual networks have been the norm regarding the lab and the university sector. But a clearer sense of university links can be gained by looking more closely at the AST group and the NCUT and also through a brief reference to the formation in 1998 of the Petroleum Technology Research Centre in Regina. The AST group certainly sees university-related training and education as a part of its broader public interest mandate and thus has sought to ensure the presence of research students in its work. It has sought as well to provide a one-stop shopping virtual ‘centre of excellence’ for university and business S&T staff. The group’s area of S&T, however, is one which has meant that networks and links with universities have involved more foreign universities than Canadian ones. Links certainly exist with the University of Alberta, and the group plays a role in selected grant-refereeing and review processes conducted by the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council (NSERC). But key links have also been forged with Columbia University and the University of Florida in the United States and with Manchester University in the UK. Another significant network is the Tailings Research Centre network, which involves funding by the CFI for the University of Alberta, but with the group’s lab personnel and several funded PhD students.

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Regarding the NCUT side of the lab’s operations, the university links appear to be similar in the sense that earlier it had some contract funding for university links but much of this dried up as a result of budget cuts. University links are also, however, somewhat different on the upgrading technology side in that they have a less natural historical fit with the centre’s highly applied needs, which are tied to the practicalities of upgrading and related industry-centred production processes. These have not been natural areas of focus for universities. Nonetheless, links with individual faculty – especially younger S&T academics – exist at several universities, including those in Alberta, Calgary, Saskatchewan, British Columbia, and New Brunswick. University links also arise through links with business association groups that have university faculty as part of their membership or key research committees. While the Regina-based Petroleum Technology Research Centre is not a focus of this chapter, its role deserves emphasis regarding university networks. This is because the PRTC’s formation was closely tied not to an existing university base as such but rather to a plan by the University of Regina to create a petroleum engineering program from scratch. NRCan’s funding partly went directly to enable the university to hire six faculty; thus, while the new PRTC was being born, the university was simultaneously developing its teaching and research program. business/regional linkages The situation regarding business linkages in a regional context is more complex. At one level, the pattern of change is unambiguous in that the Devon lab was always quite client and business-focused and is now even more so. But these links are more complex in nature and are best seen again by looking more closely at the two units within the lab. Also, the links have been forged partly by the fact that the largest portion of the lab’s funding comes from PERD, an interdepartmental program, and thus the lab must function within the changing rules and processes of this funding. The AST group within the Devon lab evolved directly out of the lab’s origins in coal-focused research. Thus it has always been regionally focused. It had worked closely with the coal industry; for example, it helped develop patents for new production processes. Almost inevitably, it also saw itself as practically an outpost of the former federal Department of Energy, Mines and Resources – a mindset encouraged

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by the lab’s small size. In the early 1980s it had about ten S&T staff and a budget of about $1 million, all of which came from federal coffers. But, crucially, it functioned also with significant donations of S&T equipment from industry. Thus, for the AST, some form of de facto cost recovery was the norm. It saw itself as a non-bureaucratic structure oriented towards industry and certainly not as a ‘university without students’ – a label that as we have seen is applied to many federal labs. In the mid-1980s it experienced an initial incursion of Ottawa-centred bureaucracy when a team came to the lab to ‘bureaucratize’ it. This led to a period of tension and some resentment before the lab settled into a period of relative normalcy and independence until Program Review. In terms of its business partners and networks, the AST group has always had a larger portion (about 70 per cent) of its links with big firms. This tendency towards big firms has strengthened to as high as 90 per cent as a result of the growth of the oil sands industry. The key here is that only big firms can afford to be in the oil sands business. Over the past fifteen years, these firms have included Syncrude and Suncor, which developed the earliest generation technologies. Recently, however, players such as Shell and True North have become prominent as well, often by fostering new technologies in partnership with this part of the Devon lab. There are, of course, interactions between small firms and the AST and the large corporations. Small firms with new or promising technologies often approach the larger entities, and these big players may then refer them to the Devon lab. The NCUT has a different history, in part because it emerged out of the transfer of S&T personnel and equipment from Ottawa in the mid-1990s. This was before Program Review; however, the move was implemented during Program Review and thus was caught up in some of the dynamics of that review. Because it was forged as a formal partnership with agencies of the Government of Alberta, the NCUT group is required to address the mandates of three masters: NRCan, the Devon lab, and Alberta. The NCUT’s status as a regional lab was key to its operations from the beginning. In political terms, the initial impetus for the NCUT arose in the early 1990s from Don Mazankowski, who was then deputy prime minister in the Mulroney government. As an Alberta politician, he saw the need to ‘repatriate’ this crucial CANMET resource by putting it to local–regional use; in this way, the oil industry could be linked to it more deliberately in commercial and production terms. After all, Alberta was where the oil sands resource was based. But at

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the same time, links between the NCUT and the provincial government were going to be difficult to forge owing to strong and bitter memories of the federal–Alberta energy wars of the Trudeau-era National Energy Program. The NCUT is presently staffed by about ten Alberta government employees and forty federal employees, who now function strongly as a team. Even so, it took persistent leadership and a good deal of patience to overcome past cultural rifts. The Alberta staff initially sensed that they were being taken over by federal people; the key federal players initially sensed that the Alberta participants viewed the change simply as an opportunity to grab federal dollars. Because of these perceptions, strong efforts were made to encourage the unit to forge its own joint identity. These efforts included the fostering of a unique culture and the design of a special logo. They also involved explicit team-building approaches as well as efforts to reassure staff – for example, through staff-centred processes for developing a culture of safety. This is crucial when prototype production models are being developed in which there is a real risk to health and safety. Another feature that has anchored the regional partnership is that the budgets of the NCUT and the AST are separate in all respects. Put simply, the larger Devon lab cannot itself move resources between the two units; by agreement between the Treasury Board and NRCan, the funding is kept separate. This funding was set in 1995 at a fixed level, although some extra flexibility was provided to address the costs ($3 million) of moving equipment and people to Alberta. Alberta’s contribution is in the form of staff, not dollars; the province also provides, on a rental basis, the building that houses the centre. Federal funding is largely through PERD. Senior managers describe the centre’s approach to decision making as similar to that of a private engineering company. Notional budgets are set across three and six month time spans, but these are not quite as project specific or project dominated as those of the AST group. This is because the centre’s staff do not want to miss out on opportunities that arise during the year. The centre networks mainly with businesses, with a focus on large firms. Global firms such as Exxon and BP have large research staffs and know how to lever government money on projects that contribute to their own strategic plans. Small energy firms are also a part of the centre’s clientele; indeed, many of these firms realize that they have to know much more about upgrading technologies than was the case

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in earlier eras of oil patch development. The centre has developed Internet-based networks for these firms, and it never turns down a request or opportunity to meet face to face with current or potential clients. Face-to-face meetings are in fact a crucial feature of the oil industry culture. The NCUT has sought to ensure that the industry likes it, sees it as competent and leading-edge, and accordingly will want to ‘run things by the Centre’ when new ideas and needs are being formulated. There has undoubtedly been a learning curve involved in developing these business links, but the centre believes that industry now has a good sense of what it is, of its capacity for building alliances, and of its core competences. The centre’s technical advisory committee has gradually reached a point where both it and the NCUT as a whole are fairly frank about what it is that they can and cannot or should and should not do. Conclusions In this chapter we have shown how the Devon lab has had to respond to, take advantage of, and in other senses adapt and grow amidst changing policies at the federal level and in the underlying dynamics of the booming Alberta oil sands industry. We have shown that the lab has evolved into a quite successful regional and national lab in the context of its mandate. Even so, problems and challenges inevitably remain. Its mandate is an important but difficult one. On the one hand, it has to help ensure that the crucial oil sands resource can provide an ever larger proportion of Canada’s national oil supply. On the other hand, it has to ensure, in an era of sustainable development, that the oil sands can be exploited with reduced environmental impacts. The lab’s evolution indicates that the public good and the commercial role of S&T policy are quite intertwined and cannot always be cast as trade-offs or as opposing concepts. Commercially relevant S&T developments are often required in order to bring public goods to fruition. This is especially true regarding the oil sands. But at the same time, as the resource becomes a larger proportion of Canada’s energy supply, the oil sands will become an ever larger emitter of greenhouse gases. The Devon lab sees itself as a unique federal and regional lab in three senses. First, it is unambiguously a local–regional entity in that it focuses on the oil sands of Northern Alberta. Second, in concert with

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federal and Alberta policy, it regards the oil sands as a national prize and resource endowment. Third, the technologies needed and in prospect are unique to Canada and will have to be developed in Canada or not at all. As is not the case with other labs and sectors, there are not dozens of equivalents in other countries and jurisdictions. The lab’s links to overall federal S&T–innovation–commercialization policies have been quite tight and integrated. As the importance of the oil sands grew and as parts of the lab were relocated from Ottawa, the Devon lab developed an undeniable commercial focus both for its core oil sands work and for its related environmental work. Its version of SD is very much of the ‘triple bottom line’ variety; it does not focus exclusively on ecology. It is dealing fundamentally with a nonrenewable resource, albeit a huge and vitally important one. Our analysis has shown that the Devon lab began as a regional lab focusing on coal but has since adapted in order to survive and to take advantage of the opportunities afforded by the need to develop the oil sands resource. It had always regarded itself as a small but successful commercially oriented regional lab; but then it was jolted by the Program Review criteria, which rated some of its operations as being out of sync with national priorities. These forces, as well as pressures for decentralization, have resulted in a lab that is highly pragmatic and quick on its feet and that does not take any of its sources of funding or business for granted. It has to constantly earn its way as it balances its various mandates and challenges. Over the past decade, the Devon lab has reduced its linkages with universities somewhat, but these linkages today are showing signs of renewal. University links do vary somewhat between the lab’s two constituent groups; but if national and local regional innovation systems imply links with universities and business, then again, this is not a fully developed triple relationship in the case of the Devon lab as a whole. This chapter has shown that linkages with business have been strengthened and deepened, but that these networks and S&T activities differ somewhat between the two technology groups. The lab’s links with other government departments and within NRCan have also become more extensive, in part owing to the complexity of policies and policy changes and in part owing to the related restructuring of funds and programs. The lab’s location in Devon, Alberta, occasionally contributes to a sense that its role is underappreciated at headquarters. But in other contexts, not being caught up in the excesses of the Ottawa loop

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is viewed as an advantage. The lab has been able to find partners and funds, and thus the key network-like activity of brokering is becoming ever more important. Also, the complex planning, review, and allocation process associated with PERD funding has demanded closer links across departments sharing research interests and objectives. The Devon lab has evolved as an S&T institution. Its staff have sought to strengthen and deepen the organization’s culture, tilting it in a regional Alberta and client-oriented direction, and have partly succeeded under quite challenging circumstances. The Devon lab has had to respond to changing policies and pressures, not to mention fastmoving technological developments. But it faces many future challenges and pressures as well, as the oil sands take centre stage in Canadian energy policy and in North American energy markets as well.

5 The Environmental Technology Centre and Environmental Protection

We now turn to the first of the two Environment Canada labs, the Environmental Technology Centre (ETC). It functions within a large and evolving policy context dominated by two needs. First, by the growing need for effective environmental protection. Second, in the pursuit of this protection ethos, by the need to foster a prosperous Canadian environmental industry, one that is capable of competing with global firms in the growing environmental industry. These roles require both R&D and RSA activities, and an ethic that encompasses both commercialization and public goods S&T. The protection role requires federal S&T targeted at the real needs and the time frame demands of regulators. The related environmental industries role is heavily regulationdriven in the sense that regulation and related public policies are helping create the environmental industry in the first place. The government’s S&T role in this crucial environmental sphere has been influenced to some extent by debates and disputes over regulation as a cost to the firms being regulated and by competing arguments that tough regulatory standards, efficiently designed, can actually be a source of competitive advantage (Porter and van der Linde 1995; Jaccard 2005) and can help promote sustainable production as an even more beneficial environmental goal overall. Ultimately, these points of view are also bound up in even broader views about the need to harness new transformative technologies that are linked with the diverse kinds of research required to prevent or ameliorate environmental and production problems (Doern 2004; Backman-Beharry and Slater 2006). The ETC richly illustrates how the concept of a ‘government laboratory’ must encompass more than the narrow image of a place with fixed assets in which R&D is conducted. In addition to this type of

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‘bench’ science, the ETC engages in what could be called ‘distributed’ S&T – for example, through the National Air Pollution Surveillance Network (NAPSN), through fieldwork to demonstrate and validate soil remediation technologies, and through on-site contamination measurements at complex spill sites of federal responsibility or national concern. It therefore plays a key RSA role, and in the course of carrying out its S&T role vis-à-vis Environment Canada’s environmental protection mandate, it is increasingly conscious of the environmental industry’s role as well. Origins and Mandate The ETC has evolved out of the ‘River Road Labs,’ which were established in 1975. It is located in Gloucester, just south of Ottawa on a sixhectare campus off River Road. Broadly speaking, this lab provides specialized scientific support and undertakes R&D in support of Environment Canada’s environmental protection programs. Although its S&T mandate and activities are quite broad, the lab is concerned primarily with technologies for monitoring and controlling air pollution and spills of oil, chemicals, and other hazardous materials. The ETC’s origins reflect those of its parent department (see chapter 2). When the Department of the Environment was formed in the early 1970s, directorates were established along environmental realms such as air and water, by combining various programs and units from other departments, including NRCan and Health Canada. The River Road Labs were similarly assembled, by pulling together the various R&D efforts relating to air pollution from throughout the relatively new Department of Environment and from other federal departments. The River Road Labs originally constituted an umbrella organization in which had been gathered a number of groups whose focus was the study of air pollution. It housed a vehicle emissions testing facility, an analytical chemical laboratory for air pollution, an engineering capacity to support the nationwide network of air pollution monitoring stations, and a small program for testing small source samples of pollution for referencing purposes. These various functions reported to different chiefs at the department’s headquarters. Thus, in these early years the lab more resembled a collection of co-located S&T units dealing with air pollution. In the early 1980s the situation was rationalized. An on-site director was designated for what was now renamed the River Road Environ-

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mental Technology Centre.1 The ETC is now a unified institution whose director reports to the Director General of the Environmental Technology Advancement Directorate of the Environmental Protection Service of Environment Canada. Also in the early 1980s, an ‘emergencies science’ group was shifted to the lab from a different directorate; this added a second major research emphasis to the centre’s traditional focus on air pollution. Today, the lab’s mission is ‘to support the Departmental national and international mandate for environmental protection’ by: • developing and transferring pollution measurement, prevention, control and remediation knowledge, and new technology in areas related to air pollution and unplanned releases of oil and hazardous materials; and • providing relevant specialized sampling and analytical expertise and services of the highest standards. (ETC website) In seeking to fulfil its mission, the ETC plays the following roles: • to support the regulatory role of Environment Canada by undertaking and promoting research and development (R&D), and technology advancement and transfer in measurement and control of air pollutant emissions, and in response to unplanned releases of oil and hazardous materials; • to support pollution assessment and assist in solving environmental problems associated with specific sources of air pollution or spill/ waste sites that have international, national, or regional implications by undertaking R&D based on in-house and external expertise and resources and co-operation with stakeholders; • to manage or support Environment Canada’s programs related to measurement and control of air pollution and releases of oil and hazardous materials by providing relevant sampling, analytical, and quality assurance expertise and services; • to promote the better integration of economic and environmental issues and to foster a healthy and creative environmental protection industry in Canada through information and technology transfer,

1 Later shortened to its current name, the Environmental Technology Centre (ETC).

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and by supporting the development of national and international technology standards and policies; • to provide advice on environmental protection technology and emerging technical issues relating to air pollution and response to spills of oil and hazardous materials to the Department and other clients including the industry, provinces and territories, other R&D organizations, and the public; and • to represent the Department and Canada in federal-provincial, national, and international environmental protection technology organizations and programs and act as full partners in the international community involved with the development and application of leading-edge technology and technical standards for environmental protection relating to air pollution and control of hazardous materials. (ETC website) This statement of mission and roles first appeared in the ETC’s 1992–4 Biennial Report and is still the statement that appears on the lab’s website, which also stresses that its ‘staff share a strong sense of responsibility for environmental and human health, and focus their efforts on protecting and improving the environment for ourselves and our children’ (ETC website, ‘The Centre and Its Staff,’ 1). As previously noted, the lab’s mandate covers both R&D and RSA aspects of government science; both feed into broader regulatory, policy, and monitoring roles. The ETC has six divisions. Its organization chart shows classic hierarchical lines of authority; indeed, given the disparate activities of the various divisions, the centre is quite hierarchical. However, three of the six ‘divisions’ (see discussion below) have seven or fewer people. Thus, the organization chart is a bit deceiving as to the lab’s actual internal structure. The transfer of the Emergencies Engineering Division to a private firm, SAIC Canada, has ‘flattened’ the centre’s hierarchy so that it now operates in a more horizontal manner. The characteristics and major functions of each division are briefly described below, to suggest the diversity of S&T activities at the centre. However, it is not possible here to describe each unit in full. Analysis and Air Quality Division The Analysis and Air Quality Division was created in the 1990s following Program Review by reorganizing parts of the former Chemistry

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and Pollution Management divisions. This division has about thirtyseven staff, most of them chemists, other scientists, engineers, or technicians/technologists. Its base budget is approximately $2.7 million, and it now receives an additional $5.3 million per year as part of new money targeting ozone-related research.2 The division coordinates the operations of the federal–provincial NAPSN, as well as the two monitoring stations located in Ottawa. This network, which provides the air quality data that enable governments to monitor and assess the quality of ambient air in Canada, is described in more detail later. The division also develops and evaluates new measurement technologies in support of air pollution monitoring. Its organic and inorganic chemistry laboratories are able to measure ultra-trace levels of various compounds from a variety of environmental sources such as airborne sources, contaminated soils, and hazardous wastes. The division is tightly linked to its departmental clients and develops new analytical methods to ensure that the most appropriate procedures are available to support the development of environmental regulations. The division also provides advice to, and promotes improvements in the capabilities of, private industry and other government analytical laboratories. Emissions Research and Measurement Division The Emissions Research and Measurement Division plays a leading national role in measuring polluting emissions originating from both mobile and stationary sources. This division has about twenty-seven staff, primarily engineers, scientists, and technicians, as well as twelve contractors. Its base budget is around $1.5 million, which is split roughly 30 per cent for stationary source R&D and 70 per cent for mobile source R&D. The stationary side typically brings in an additional $30,000 to $40,000 per year in external funding; the mobile side receives an additional $300,000 to $500,000 per year. The division conducts both laboratory and field studies in support of departmental activities relating to climate change, smog, toxics, and regulatory compliance and enforcement. Major emphases include the following:

2 Part of Canada’s commitment under the Ozone Annex of the Canada–U.S. Air Quality Agreement signed in December 2000.

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• characterization of emissions from such sources as cars and lightduty trucks, incinerators, boilers, smelters, industrial stacks, marine vessels, aircraft, off-road vehicles, and utility engines • measurement of greenhouse gases and emissions from municipal landfills • evaluation of process control technologies • evaluation of remediation and waste destruction technologies • quality assurance/quality control • development of Reference Methods • advice and assessment In particular, the division conducts the compliance and audit testing of new-model, light-duty cars, trucks, and motorcycles. Previously, this work was done under a collaborative agreement with Transport Canada, which administered the regulations under the Motor Vehicle Safety Act. Since 2000–1, the new-vehicle and engine emissions regulations have been administered by Environment Canada under the 1999 Canadian Environmental Protection Act (CEPA). Emergencies Science and Technology Division The Emergencies Science and Technology Division conducts internationally recognized R&D relating to the properties, behaviour, detection, measurement, and effects of spilled hazardous materials, and to the effectiveness and environmental benefits of in situ countermeasures. The division has about seventeen staff, most of them physical and chemical scientists and technicians, and about $26 million worth of facilities and equipment dedicated to spill studies. It serves as the primary centre of scientific advice on pollution emergencies to the regional offices of Environment Canada and other organizations. It typically conducts about forty active projects a year, most of them in partnership with other agencies and industry. Its base budget is roughly $1.2 million per year; however, it receives around an additional $1 million annually through joint projects and cost recovery. Major emphases include both R&D and operations relating to the following: • • • •

airborne remote sensing of spills laboratory and field portable measurement techniques oil properties, fate, and behaviour in-situ burning

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• spill-treating agents • biological effects and toxicity • shoreline cleanup countermeasures Historically, the division was concerned mainly with oil spills. Since 1979, Environment Canada has been seeking to improve response and counter-measure technologies for spills of materials other than oil. The division develops ‘priority lists’ for chemical spills in order to focus R&D efforts on the most frequently spilled and most harmful chemicals. Its efforts have focused on the development of analytical techniques for top-priority chemicals as well as the preparation of chemical-specific response manuals (Fingas et al. 2000). The division provides training in the use of personal protection equipment and simple hazard-level measurement equipment to departmental emergencies personnel and to other ‘first responders’ and contingency planners. It also provides a ‘scientific response’ team for on-site measurement work at major spills of federal or national concern. Emergencies Engineering Technologies Office Through a contractual arrangement with Science Applications International Corporation (SAIC) Canada, the Emergencies Engineering Technologies Office (EETO) has essentially replaced the lab’s in-house Emergencies Engineering Division (EED). Prior to the change, the EED undertook engineering R&D and demonstration projects on technologies for cleaning up sites contaminated either by oil or chemical spills or by insecure hazardous wastes. It served as the primary centre of specialized advice on pollution emergency cleanup to the department’s regional offices and other organizations. Efforts ranged from direct involvement in cleanup operations to the provision of unique equipment. Following Program Review, the EED budget was cut by 53 per cent, making it difficult to sustain the effort internally. As a result, with Treasury Board encouragement, the lab began to seek an ‘alternative service delivery’ approach. In April 1998, following an extensive study and competitively bid process, the division was in effect privatized. As a result, the EETO is now the ETC’s one-person office responsible for managing the current five-year contract and providing the day-to-day technical liaison between the contractor and the department. Under this arrangement, SAIC Canada matches the $600,000 per year it receives from the ETC and retains any intellectual

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property it develops, although the ETC reserves the right to royaltyfree use of the intellectual property for R&D purposes. The relationship with SAIC Canada is described as ‘arms length’ even though it is located on the ETC campus and is viewed as ‘part of the family.’ This is not surprising, given that the SAIC unit consists of a large number of former ETC employees. Special Programs Division The Special Programs Division provides strategic, operational, and policy support to the Director’s Office. Headed by the ETC’s assistant director, this division consists of only about seven individuals but is responsible for two key inputs to Environment Canada’s regulatory and policy processes – namely, it (a) ensures the availability of scientifically sound test methods and (b) develops a base of Canadian commercial laboratories that can generate internationally accepted data on new substances. Its Methods Development and Application Section forecasts the need for and develops new toxicological methods required for the department’s regulation function. Its Good Laboratory Practice (GLP) Compliance Monitoring Unit provides support to Environment Canada and Health Canada scientists by inspecting Canadian laboratories involved in the generation of data used to assess new substances under the CEPA, and for monitoring compliance status and auditing studies on new substances at the request of regulatory authorities in other countries. The division is also responsible for supporting the good laboratory practice activities of the OECD and for in-house quality control and environmental management systems at the ETC. Microwave-Assisted Processes Division The Microwave-Assisted Processes Division was formed in 1994 to accelerate the development and commercialization of various applications of Environment Canada’s patented Microwave-Assisted Processes (MAPTM).3 This family of technologies offers environmentally friendly processes employing microwaves for the preparation of analytical sam-

3 MAP is a trademark of Her Majesty the Queen in Right of Canada as represented by the Minister of the Environment.

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ples for subsequent biological, chemical, and physical characterization and for the extraction of high value-added substances from a variety of items, including plant and animal tissues, soils, and drinking water. The division’s work emphasizes two main areas: (a) the development of MAP-based analytical methods, and (b) the development of industrialscale processes employing the MAP technology. The division consists basically of two permanent staff, although they are often complemented by visiting scientists – often from other countries – and by interns through the Youth Internship Program. This small office has a base budget of about $300,000, which primarily covers salaries. In addition, the division brings in approximately $1 million through royalties from the nine licensing agreements that the division maintains with interests in Canada, the United States, Asia, and Europe. Changing Priorities The first thing to note in this section’s account of changing priorities is the remarkable stability of the ETC’s mission statement and roles; these have remained virtually unchanged at least since the early 1990s. Nonetheless, in comparing the lab’s biennial reports and other documents, it is possible to glean shifts in emphases and priorities both within the substantive work of the lab and in its management and operational approaches. As mentioned earlier, with the evolution of the lab into a discrete institution, its early S&T focus on air pollution was joined by a core capability and emphasis on the S&T related to spills and other pollution emergencies. Within this area of activity the lab has expanded its traditional focus on oil spills to include other ‘unplanned releases’ of chemicals and other hazardous materials. Similarly, while air pollution has been a priority for the lab from the start, the relative emphasis within that area – and therefore the required S&T expertise and capacity – has evolved and broadened as scientific and regulatory attention has shifted among concerns about smog, acid rain, ozone, and so on. Another important shift in recent years relates to the nature of the S&T work performed by the lab. Throughout the 1990s, its S&T efforts were roughly balanced between R&D and RSA. However, with the newer resources coming from, for example, funding associated with the Ozone Annex of the Canada–U.S. Air Quality Agreement, the balance is shifting from about 50:50 to closer to 25:75 in favour of RSA. It remains to be seen how this shift towards RSA will affect the long-term value and

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effectiveness of the lab’s S&T programs. The lab’s management believes strongly that it is the applied R&D work that has been a significant factor in the successful delivery and ongoing improvement of the lab’s RSA programs, and in the lab’s ability to leverage external resources. Beyond these shifts in its substantive S&T work, there is another area in which one can observe changing priorities at ETC. This is in the degree to which its management and operational approaches are changing to reflect the general federal policy pressures related to alternative service delivery, intellectual property rights and revenues, and other more business-oriented practices. In the 1990s, Environment Canada looked to experiment with alternative service delivery mechanisms. Its first attempt was to set up the Wastewater Technology Centre as a ‘government-owned, contractoroperated’ or GOCO laboratory. In 1991, this unit was privatized on a trial basis for three years. Later in the decade this experiment was abandoned and the unit was pulled back to reside once again within the Environmental Technology Advancement Directorate to operate in a more traditional government laboratory mode. Meanwhile, at the ETC another alternative service delivery process was initiated that, as we have seen, resulted in the privatization of one of its divisions. It would appear that in this instance, the experiment was a success, as the firm’s initial five-year contract has since been renewed. Another area of change is in policies and practices regarding intellectual property (IP). Management responsibilities for intellectual property were assigned by the federal government to the science-based departments in the early 1990s. The lab began implementing technology transfer programs involving commercial licensing of intellectual property developed in-house (ETC 2002a). In the post-Program Review funding environment, IP-generated revenues have become increasingly important, and these licensing arrangements have generated large revenues and become more central to the way the lab operates. The lab has recently established a Marketing and Business Development Office to facilitate the further transfer of innovations. The ETC and the Five-Part Policy Menu Framework S&T/Innovation/Commercialization Policies The ETC lab has certainly functioned within, and been sensitive to, the broad federal S&T-innovation-commercialization policies and phases,

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but always within its own and Environment Canada’s environmental protection mandate. Key to the S&T-innovation-commercialization agenda in the lab’s mandate are, first, the provision (as noted earlier) that it will promote the better integration of economic and environmental issues and, second, its explicit role ‘to foster a healthy and creative environmental protection industry in Canada, through information and technology transfer’ (see table 5.1 for a summary of ETC and the policy menu framework). Indeed, the lab exhibits a substantial commercial orientation, especially when compared with, for example, the National Wildlife Research Centre, which is profiled in chapter 6. The ETC’s role in developing leading-edge technology and standards for environmental protection is relevant here. Besides the MAP family of technologies, the ETC has developed numerous other technologies of commercial interest. For example, its Multi-Dynamometer Simulator is being licensed to private-sector companies, which will manufacture and distribute the technology commercially. At the same time, however, the lab does not trumpet a commercialization agenda per se; it sees its environmental protection support role as predominant. Besides the more recent emphasis on innovation and commercialization, the lab is also influenced by more traditional concerns of science policy relating to publications, peer review, and laboratory protocols. The ETC documents the results of its projects in both informal and formal reports. In addition, staff members contribute to the general scientific and technical literature through journal articles, book chapters, conference proceedings, and workshop presentations. Interestingly, the ratio of the latter to the former has increased markedly in recent years. In the early 1990s the lab’s publications were roughly balanced between those of the ‘technical report’ variety, which were largely aimed at internal or governmental audiences, and those which targeted the broader scientific community. In recent years, however, the ratio of edited and peer-reviewed contributions to unedited and internal documents has reached 2 to 1. The ETC employs internal peer review, though not much external review unless a publication is being submitted to a journal. The lab occasionally involves itself in public consultation, which provides important input but is viewed as a poor approach to assessing the science. Typically, the lab has the science reviewed first, and then conducts public consultations, and then publishes the overall results. Reflecting the international S&T policy trend towards accreditation, the ETC’s chemical labs have been accredited ISO 17025 (the technical

128 Strategic Science in the Public Interest Table 5.1. ETC and the policy menu framework S&T/innovation/commercialization Policies – broad general support for policies but in the context of own lab and Environment Canada environmental protection mandate – support for technology transfer and role in leading-edge technological standards for environmental protection – related strong support for fostering of environmental industries – balanced R&D versus RSA role historically, but recent shift to more RSA, which leads to concern about future R&D capacity not being available when needed – increasing S&T staff focus on scientific journal publication Sustainable development (SD) and environmental policies – supportive of SD role but it does not figure large in lab’s own discourse – strong dominant environmental protection role on air protection and clean air – central involvement in complex National Air Pollution Surveillance (NAPS) Network Parent department mandate and changing political–economic context – ETC part of Environment Protection Service of Environment Canada and therefore strong reinforcement of regulatory and monitoring roles – works through approved business plan in line with EC Environment Table Business Line plans – several EC statutes impact on role Macro and micro budgetary management policies – program review cuts of 44%, with A-base funds still not restored to pre–program review levels – only 7% cut in staff during program review as deliberate choice to preserve core competences – some access to new or changed funds under PERD, TSRI, and CCAF – faces demographic bulge retirement outflow of staff – renewal of research infrastructure and equipment is a concern Changing policy-induced linkages with universities, business, other governments, and communities – university linkages involve few formal networks – considerable individual informal contacts with faculty – tie-in with Auto 21 Networks of Centres of Excellence – some collaboration with universities such as Carleton, McGill, and Moncton – business links strong in areas of environmental industries and development of environmental protection technologies – policy community linkages are predominant via NAPS, but also growing international linkages with U.S., and through CIDA

equivalent to ISO 9000) and are seeking to become fully ISO 9000 accredited. Nevertheless, there is still concern that too much of the project work planning is being done by the ‘seat of the pants.’ According to one manager, better tracking and project management software

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is needed to provide reasonable record keeping. It is believed this would improve the credibility of government science and reduce the total reliance on scientific reputation. However, this concern does not reflect negatively on the lab’s documentation relating to the scientific work itself, for which the lab has strict standards as per its Quality Management Manual. The lab’s performance is assessed under its accreditation by the Standards Council of Canada and the Canadian Association for Environmental Analytical Laboratories. SD and Environmental Policies SD policy per se does not figure large in the ETC’s discourse about what it does. As already indicated, it emphasizes and practises a strong environmental protection and pollution assessment and monitoring role rather than an SD mandate. This emphasis can be seen in the development and evolution of the NAPSN. Since the late 1960s, scientists and the public have become increasingly concerned about the effects of air pollution, including urban smog and acid corrosion of infrastructure. Thus they have begun to measure the ambient levels of air pollution and to establish controls to reduce certain gases, chemical compounds, and particulate materials in the air. The NAPSN was established in 1969 as a joint program of the federal and provincial governments to monitor and assess the quality of the ambient air in Canada’s urban centres. This network provides air pollution data to governments – data that allow them to assess whether national air quality objectives are being met. The network consists of some 600 air-monitoring instruments at more than 270 largely automated sampling stations located in more than 160 urban centres in Canada. Since 1980 the NAPSN database has also included ozone observations from Canadian and American rural monitoring locations to enable analysis of regional ozone episodes. The network’s operations are the responsibility of the lab’s Analysis and Air Quality Division in collaboration with co-operating agencies from the provincial, territorial, and (two) regional/municipal governments. Indeed, the interjurisdictional and cooperative nature of the NAPSN program reflects the strengths of a network-based approach. Some of the R&D and technical support services related to the NAPSN are conducted with the participation of, or in collaboration with, other Environment Canada departmental organizations and regional offices, other government departments (particularly Health Canada and Agri-

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culture and Agri-Food Canada), non-governmental organizations, academe, the private sector, and international organizations, including the Americans’ Environmental Protection Agency and National Institute for Science and Technology, as well as the World Health Organization. From its inception, the NAPSN has been instrumental in the government’s efforts to reduce air pollution. By the mid-1990s, however, the data were showing a levelling off of the downward trends in air pollution, and also that ozone levels were not increasing. It was determined that overall increases in transportation had overtaken the gains brought on from the introduction of controls and emissions-reducing technologies. The American and Canadian governments recommitted their nations to fighting air pollution, and in February 2001 the environment minister announced extra funding over four years for the NAPSN as part of the Clean Air Strategy. This funding is intended to address the new equipment needs for the monitoring stations and is viewed as urgently needed if the aging network is to be revitalized. The lab is certainly aware of the government’s broader SD (triple bottom line) priorities and discourse, but as the NAPSN example shows, the air pollution reduction challenges have been a sufficiently difficult focus over the years, and thus SD is not the term used to characterize what the ETC primarily does. Parent Department Mandates and Changing Political-Economic Context The lab is part of Environment Canada, and thus the latter’s mandate, structure, and operations, including its own changing politicaleconomic context, must constantly be considered and interpreted. Obviously, then, the lab functions first within its larger Environment Canada departmental hierarchy. The ETC director reports to the Director General of the Environmental Technology Advancement Directorate, who in turn reports to the Assistant Deputy Minister, Environmental Protection Service (EPS). Again, this underscores the fact that environmental protection is the core mandate. Proposals for significant new initiatives or program directions are channelled through the direct line management structure for external review – that is, through the ETAD management committee, the EPS Executive Committee, and the department’s Environmental Management Board (Thornton 2001). In addition, the lab is represented on the department’s S&T Management Committee, Laboratory Coordinating Committee, and Laboratory Managers’ Committee. Most of the interactions with these higher levels of the Environment

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Canada hierarchy are channelled up the chain of command through the ETC director or division chiefs. Also, the ETC staff participate in a variety of departmental planning and coordination committees or working groups focusing on particular planning issues. In addition, steps have been taken to improve communication across the science/ policy interface. For example, managers with the Transportation Systems Branch of the Air Pollution Prevention Directorate have recently been relocated to the ETC ‘to strengthen further the linkages between the ETC S&T work and their policy and regulatory functions’ (ibid.). The lab produces an annual business plan with a detailed list of deliverables. The plan is integrated with all of the departmental environmental protection key deliverables in the department’s Clean Environment Table Business Line Plan. The ETC also produces biennial reports that profile its activities and that summarize its contributions. Employees are assessed annually using the government’s performance appraisal system. In an overall sense, the ETC has a quite complex task: to ‘feed’ Environment Canada R&D and RSA that is relevant and timely for its regulatory tasks and obligations under several statutes and for varied regulatory and monitoring situations. Macro and Micro Budgetary Management Policies In the late 1980s, public concern about environmental protection was raised following high-profile incidents such as the Exxon Valdez oil spill and the St-Basil-le-Grande PCB fire. In response, the Mulroney government earmarked additional funding for the lab as part of its Green Plan. However, this program was short-lived and was followed by the deep budget cuts of the mid-1990s under program review (see more below). In the latter part of the 1990s the federal government made significant investments in S&T, including for environmental protection. However, most of these investments were made to external performers, which led to some erosion of federal intramural S&T efforts as well as to a concern about a general ‘rust-out’ of facilities and equipment (ETC 2002). From a research management point of view, this policy and budgetary roller-coaster ride made long-range planning very difficult (Toner 1996). As with most federal S&T establishments, which were particularly hard hit by program review, the lab’s budget was cut after 1994, by which year its annual base budget had reached about $10 million. In

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the post–program review period, the lab was hit with a 44 per cent reduction in A-base dollars. Since then the A-base has recovered somewhat to about $7.5 million per year. However, key to the ETC’s operations is the additional funding it brings in from external sources. This portion of the ETC’s operating budget has been increasing in the postprogram review period. The following budget figures illustrate the general trends in funding (ETC 1994, 1996, 1998, 2000): • • • • •

1992–4: $10 million base plus $4–6 million in cost sharing 1994–6: $8 million base plus $3–5 million in cost sharing 1996–8: $6 million base plus $5 million in cost sharing 1998–2000: $6–7 million base plus $5–7 million in cost sharing 2000–2: $7.5 million base plus $3–5 million in cost sharing

Another aspect of the lab’s macro-budgetary context has been the increase over the past decade in the use of horizontal, interdepartmental program funds such as PERD, the Toxics Substances Research Initiative (TSRI), and the Climate Change Action Fund (CCAF). The lab has succeeded in attracting some of this funding. Over the past decade, personnel levels have shown a very different trend. The ETC has maintained staff levels of about one hundred over the past decade. Between 1990–1 and 1993–4, the staff levels averaged about 103. Between 1994–6 to 1998–2000, average levels were 96. This represents only about a 7 per cent reduction from pre–program review staff levels. More recently, staff levels have been increasing as a result of the influx of new resources relating to ozone agreement. The staff positions can be broken down roughly as 50 per cent scientific, engineering, and professional, 40 per cent technician/technologist, and 10 per cent administrative/support. The ETC also makes extensive use of contractors – around sixty of them – who tend to be employed as technicians. At any given time, the total personnel working at the lab will also include research associates, postdoctoral fellows, and students, bringing the total workforce to about two hundred. The pronounced dichotomy between trends in budgets and personnel (–44 per cent versus –7 per cent) through the mid–1990s program review period reflects a decision by the ETC’s management to protect the employees. Throughout these years, no staff were forced to leave. On the downside, this approach has meant that capital and operating expenditures have been cut dramatically and have borne the brunt of budget reductions.

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Indeed, a major concern with respect to research capacity is the state of the ETC’s physical assets. These include, among other things, a world-class oil laboratory, two remote sensing aircraft (a Convair 580 and a DC-3), emergency response field equipment and vehicles, computers, and air pollution monitoring instruments. A key concern is the aging of these capital facilities and equipment. For much of its history, a significant portion of the resources for building and for scientific equipment recapitalization came from ‘opportunistic’ sources, such as end-of-fiscal-year slippage funds from elsewhere in the department. As a result of the millennium Y2K concerns, some funding was made available at that time for software and to check date stamps on analysers, but in general, capital funds have been tightly constrained. As with other S&T labs, the ETC has had to respond to federal human resources policies and processes linked to its own human capital needs. To continue to provide its clients with cutting-edge science and science advice, a government laboratory must constantly renew the knowledge embodied in its human capital. The federal S&T workforce is facing a ‘demographic bulge,’ in that a large number of S&T workers will soon become eligible to retire without pension penalty. These retirements may present opportunities to redirect S&T efforts towards new and emerging research areas; however, the loss of institutional knowledge and expertise may be staggering. The lab has not escaped this pending crisis. But whereas some government S&T establishments have been granted greater independence and flexibility with respect to hiring, the ETC must comply with and operate within the general public service human resources system. This system is often seen as a barrier to effective human resource management. Clearly, based on its use of the contract with SAIC, and its use of individual contractors, students, and programs such as the Youth Internship Program, the lab has been creative in taking advantage of what flexibilities are available to it. Nevertheless, continuing to attract younger staff will be critical, not only because they can bring new energy, different approaches, and more recent S&T knowledge, but also because of their importance in maintaining a vibrant and stimulating research environment. Changing Policy-Induced Linkages The ETC’s scientists are tightly linked with the broader environmental S&T community. An element of this broad-based linkage is the partici-

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pation of ETC staff at domestic and international conferences and workshops, ‘which brings staff into contact with old and potential new colleagues with interests and objectives that are often complementary to those of the ETC’ (Thornton 2001). More formal linkages primarily involve other government departments, provincial governments, and industry. Other networking is evident with scientists in academe and internationally. Interactions with NGOs are less common. Regional Offices, Provincial Governments, and Other Government Departments The lab is involved in a variety of networks involving other parts of Environment Canada, other government departments, and provincial, territorial, and municipal governments. Examples include the following: • In its role of coordinating the NAPS Network, the lab regularly convenes the NAPS Management Committee, on which participate all of the NAPSN partners, the Air Pollution Prevention Directorate, and the Meteorological Service of Canada. The collaborative, interjurisdictional nature of the NAPSN contributes to a uniform national database used for tracking Canada-wide standards (CWS). • For the environmental emergencies S&T effort, the ETC does extensive work with the regions and has one staff member located at a suboffice in Edmonton. Annual planning and coordination meetings are convened, with input solicited from the department’s regional offices as well as from operational and R&D organizations in Canada and overseas. • The Emissions Research and Measurement Division has cooperated with the City of Calgary to assess and quantify greenhouse gases from Calgary’s three active landfills. • Under the Canadian Council of Ministers of the Environment, the lab’s staff co-chair the federal–provincial Development Committee on the Canada-Wide Standard for Petroleum Hydrocarbons-inSoil. • The lab’s staff participate – and often play a lead role – in the activities of the federal–provincial Intergovernmental Eco-Toxicity Group, which facilitates the development and implementation of ecological toxicity testing by governments in Canada.

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Business and Industry Linkages between the lab and industrial firms are extensive, with regard both to regulated industries and to the growing environmental industries sector. The ETC has key industrial sectors as major clients and partners. These include, for example, the automotive, petrochemical, pharmaceutical, cosmetics, and food-processing sectors. One way in which the ETC is closely tied to its industrial clients and partners is through joint research projects. For example, the Emissions Research and Measurement Division collaborates with industry – particularly the automotive and petrochemical sectors – on R&D for new technologies that help reduce pollution. These projects have involved the lab in the evaluation of: • alternative and reformulated fuels for light-duty passenger cars and trucks, • alternative fuels and after-market exhaust emissions control equipment for on-road, heavy-duty vehicles, • electric and hybrid vehicles, both light- and heavy-duty, and • new sampling and analysis instrumentation for stationary source emissions testing. When developing a new analytical methodology, the lab often gets it reviewed informally by those who will be putting it into practice both in the private sector and within the department. The centre also engages in industrial demonstration projects. For example, in collaboration with CanAmera Foods and BC Research, the MAP Division is undertaking a demonstration project to test the use of the microwave-assisted process in extracting cooking oil from Canola. It is hoped that this project will eventually lead to limiting or eliminating the use of hexane, a contributor to greenhouse gases, in the Canola oil production industry. Given MAP’s potential for much more energyefficient industrial processes, a number of companies in countries such as South Korea, China, Colombia, Malaysia, Pakistan, and India are interested in the outcome of this project. Universities The lab as an institution participates in few formal networks involving

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universities and does not exhibit particularly close ties with the academic sector. However, it is involved in some bilateral arrangements – for example, a collaboration with Carleton University on emissions from turbines and on environmental genomics. The lab also participates in Auto 21, a Network of Centres of Excellence involving a number of universities. In addition, many ETC scientists maintain personal, informal networks with academic researchers. Also, as noted earlier, they are publishing more in refereed journals than in the realm of government reports and studies. The MAP Division conducts joint projects with researchers at McGill University and the University of Moncton. In addition, many ETC scientists serve as adjunct faculty at various Canadian universities (including McGill, Carleton, and Ottawa), and occasionally an academic researcher will spend time at the centre. At any given time, the lab hosts about ten graduate students or postdoctoral students, who are supervised by staff scientists and are able to make use of ETC facilities. Students usually ‘bring their own money,’ typically through an NSERC grant or other forms of support. Linkages and networks with universities are seen as desirable by ETC managers. International Linkages Beyond the normal, informal networking that occurs naturally with the international S&T community, the lab is engaged in many more formalized international activities. Canada has a strong international reputation in environmental work, and Environment Canada has in place many bilateral and multilateral agreements involving China, India, and Pakistan as well as a number of countries in Latin America. Through these programs, the ETC is involved in a wide range of activities – for example, it conducts joint research projects and engages in training, technology transfer, and institutional capacity building. In addition, a number of Memoranda of Understanding are in place with the U.S. EPA, the U.S. Department of the Interior Minerals Management Service, and the U.S. Coast Guard; together, these are facilitating the development and delivery of joint projects with the American government. The ETC’s Analysis and Air Quality Division encourages international visits and collaborates with foreign scientists in developing reference materials. The division has worked with scientists in the United States, the United Kingdom, India, Hong Kong, and Latin America.

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While there has not been a formal evaluation of the NAPS program recently, that division anticipates bringing in international experts for this purpose. As mentioned, the Special Programs Division is responsible for supporting the OECD’s good laboratory practice activities. The MAP Division is involved in a CIDA-funded project that has it working with McGill University to train scientists at the Chinese Research Academy of Environmental Sciences and China’s Nankai University. MAP also has a pilot plant operating in Beijing. The ESTD works with international committees to collaboratively set research agendas and is currently involved in a joint project with twenty-five parties to conduct research on the effects of oil on shorelines. The ETC is often the lead partner in these international networks. Conclusions The analysis has shown that because of the primacy of its environmental protection mandate, the ETC has a different institutional context and set of primary linkages than the two NRCan labs examined in earlier chapters. It has certainly seen itself in the context of overall S&T– innovation–commercialization policies, but the interpretation of its mandate has fastened squarely on its own and Environment Canada’s environmental protection role, without much overt mention of the broader SD policies at a government-wide level. This has meant responding also to changes to environmental research priorities (such as ozone depletion, climate change, and chemical and other hazardous materials spills). The ETC has been strongly aware of and involved in its environmental industries mandate, but it has not been inclined to trumpet that role if it potentially could distract attention and resources away from its main protection role. Clearly, the ETC has had to adjust to changes in budgetary support (such as the demise of the Green Plan, program review budget cuts, the increase in interdepartmental program funds, and the reliance on external funding and IP-generated revenues) and to changes in public service delivery policies and expectations (such as cost recovery, levered funding, networking, partnerships, and alternative service delivery). We have seen that one of the most important challenges facing the ETC (as with many government labs) relates to a need for additional and more stable funding. Among the program areas that require additional funding are these: the analysis of toxins, fixed sources emission testing, and on-site response to emergencies (including terrorism-

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related emergencies). This chapter has shown that the ETC has clearly had some success in attracting ‘soft monies’ through collaborative agreements. While this approach has a number of benefits, the uncertainty of the funding has created a number of management challenges related to the maintenance of core capacities in human and capital terms and in terms of the balances needed between R&D and RSA tasks and public goods and commercialization roles. There is a concern that the ETC has been operating in a ‘hand-to-mouth’ mode and that more stable funding would be of great benefit when it comes to realigning capacity to meet emerging needs. The need for reinvestment in the lab’s physical assets is considered urgent. The lab will spend half of its new ‘ozone’ money on upgrading capital equipment; the other half will go to operations. There are also concerns about the science/policy links in place and how they could be improved. The ETC’s staff are involved at multiple levels in the regulatory advice and monitoring processes, but they need to make the linkages to policy lest they miss out on opportunities (particularly for additional monies through the new horizontal program-based sources of funding). Another key ongoing challenge is to renew the workforce. The lab competes with industry, academe, and other government departments in the recruitment of high-calibre laboratory scientists and technicians. As is the case across the public service, new hirings are increasingly brought in either on contract or on term assignments. This is an understandable reaction and work-around in the current staffing environment; however, such an approach makes it difficult to ensure the longterm integrity of the workforce. In recent years there has been pressure, given the enthusiasm for NPM reforms, for government laboratories to adopt more marketoriented approaches in their operations. As has been shown, the ETC has been at the forefront in such approaches. While its experiment with alternative service delivery is viewed as a success, a key question here is to what extent the lab could or should be expected to do more in this area. In considering the answer, it should be recognized that pursuing such practices further may alter the organizational culture to the extent of weakening the ETC’s ability (a) to conduct long-term public good research and related scientific activities, and (b) to ensure that its S&T feeds into departmental regulatory and policy missions. It is likely that the ETC will continue to face such pressures in the future. This analysis has shown that the ETC is a highly networked organi-

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zation – in its case, particularly with partner organizations in other federal and provincial government departments and with industry. It often serves in a lead position within these networks. Links with academic institutions remain largely informal but are becoming more important. Networks involving NGOs are virtually non-existent. This is in sharp contrast to the situation at the National Wildlife Research Centre, to which we now turn.

6 The National Wildlife Research Centre and Frontline Sustainable Development

The protection of the natural world is of great importance. Wildlife research and monitoring, with all its links to species at risk and to the need to preserve biodiversity, is quite literally a form of frontline science for sustainable development (SD). Sustainable development, as we have stated, is often seen as a policy and regulatory paradigm that emerged from the Brundtland Commission in the mid-1980s. But in fact it is rooted in much earlier concerns for conservation and habitat management practices of many kinds. In terms of government science, wildlife research is quintessentially public goods science. Though it has a long history in Canada, wildlife research is a dynamic and evolving field. Beyond a general expansion in the range of species studied, there has been a quite fundamental shift away from a predominantly species-specific orientation or focus on individual chemicals and toxins in the environment towards a ‘landscape level’ or ‘whole ecosystems’ orientation. Human activities such as urbanization, the intensification of agriculture, and forestry and other resource extraction industries have diverse and often negative impacts on wildlife habitats. Less direct impacts include the long-term effects of acid rain, the expanding use of pesticides and other toxic chemicals, and the largely unknown effects of global climate change. It is in the above context that this chapter examines the National Wildlife Research Centre (NWRC), another research lab of Environment Canada. The NWRC involves scientists from diverse disciplines conducting traditional types of localized ‘bench’ science; but it also engages in a broader form of ‘distributed’ science through the Canadian Cooperative Wildlife Health Centre, through fieldwork to monitor bird populations and habitats, and through the Canada-wide

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program in wildlife toxicology. It is also unique among the four labs we are examining in the degree to which it engages in ‘citizen science’ through a vast network of volunteer birders and widely dispersed practitioners of local knowledge. As with the other labs examined in this book, the wildlife lab is a complex S&T institution that fulfils diverse roles and functions. It is also of particular interest because it has recently been relocated to the campus of Carleton University in Ottawa – a move that raises issues regarding relations between universities and government science labs. Mandate and Origins The wildlife lab must first be placed in the context of its parent agency, the Canadian Wildlife Service (CWS), and in the context of wildlife conservation efforts in Canada more generally. The term ‘wildlife’ is typically associated with all wild mammals and birds, be they native to or introduced into a country. Usually not included under wildlife are sea mammals such as whales, seals, and walrus, which have long been managed under fisheries law. Plants, terrestrial cold-blooded vertebrates,1 and invertebrates such as insects are not usually thought of as wildlife (Clarke 1974) . Wildlife, unlike fisheries, was not specifically identified in the British North America Act of 1867, so even though many wildlife species migrate across provincial, territorial, and even international boundaries, their protection is largely the responsibility of provincial governments. Where wildlife became the subject of international treaties – for example, with migratory birds – the federal government assumed a role in their protection. Thus federal–provincial cooperation is an important aspect of wildlife conservation in Canada. Referring specifically to waterfowl management, Dagg (1974) describes the nature of the cooperative relationship and the roles of the two levels of jurisdiction: The federal government, through the Canadian Wildlife Service ... tends to supervise the collection of waterfowl population statistics from censuses and to organize research and management programs. With these

1 Although more recently, amphibians and reptiles have become subjects of interest to wildlife researchers.

142 Strategic Science in the Public Interest data the hunting regulations ... can be set, in conference with the provincial, United States and Mexican governments ... The provincial wildlife agencies deal primarily with sportsmen, regulations, enforcement, hunting licences, land manipulation, crop damage and increasing survey research. They work closely with the federal government, advising it on the provincial requirements for the use and protection of waterfowl and discussing technical details of both research and management at all levels.

The Canadian Wildlife Service, a component of Environment Canada, is the federal agency responsible for providing advice and taking action to conserve Canada’s wildlife based on sound scientific knowledge (CWS 2001). The CWS refers both to the unit of Environment Canada located in Hull, Quebec, and to the department’s wildlife programs throughout Canada’s regions. It was created in 1947 as the Dominion Wildlife Service with fewer than thirty staff, who were gathered from diverse federal agencies. In 1950 it was renamed to the Canadian Wildlife Service. This name has become well recognized around the world and ‘has enormous value both within and beyond the department for its connotation of a long history of scientific expertise, commitment, leadership, and partnerships’ (CWS 2000). Historically, the primary emphasis of the CWS has been the management of migratory birds. This work supports the international Migratory Birds Convention, which dates back to 1916. Migratory and resident birds have long been viewed as important not only as valued components of Canadian ecosystems but also because the status of their populations can indicate overall environmental health. Of particular interest to Canadian wildlife scientists have been various species of waterfowl. Apparently the joke has been that, in practice, the ‘W’ in CWS has stood for ‘waterfowl,’ not ‘wildlife.’ In recent years, however, the CWS’s mission has broadened to encompass a wider range of wildlife species and their habitats, species at risk, and the broader biodiversity conservation agenda under which Canada has signed international treaties and promulgated new national laws. The CWS also manages federal sanctuaries and wildlife areas and has developed innovative public education programs such as interpretative nature centres. The CWS promotes federal–provincial cooperation on wildlife conservation and is responsible for the enforcement in Canada of international treaties for the conservation of species. According to the Canada Wildlife Act, the environment minister may inter alia ‘undertake programs for wildlife research and investiga-

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tion, and establish and maintain laboratories and other necessary facilities for that purpose’ (Environment Canada 2001). In 1976 the NWRC was established as the research headquarters of the CWS. In November 2002 the NWRC relocated its core research facilities to Carleton University (see more below), but for most of the years covered in this chapter it was located in Hull, Quebec, on parkland originally owned by Senator Richard Scott. In fact, Scott’s home, built in 1863, still stands on the property. The site was used by the Department of Agriculture’s Animal Diseases Research Institute from 1918 until 1975, when it moved to Nepean. Environment Canada took over the site in 1976 and established the NWRC. The lab’s mandate centres on the following: • support for conservation and management activities – providing scientifically sound advice on operational activities undertaken by the department to ensure the effective protection and conservation of migratory birds, certain species at risk and their habitats; • support for regulations and compliance activities – understanding the impacts of human activities which CWS regulates, such as hunting of migratory game birds, setting science-based limits on these activities, and assessing the effectiveness of regulations and control; • support for decision-making – ensuring that decision-makers within and outside the department base decisions that affect wildlife on the best available scientific information, including those which mitigate, or preferably prevent, negative impacts on wildlife and their habitats; • understanding ecosystem functioning – improving our currently poor understanding of ecosystem integrity and functions, bird-habitat relations, interactions among stressors, and identifying species, life cycle stages, geographic areas, or ecosystem processes that are particularly susceptible to impacts of human actions; and, • support for sustainable uses of the environment – assisting other agencies and industries in understanding the effects of human activities, such as forestry or coastal resource harvesting, on migratory birds, species at risk and their habitats, and working to prevent or minimise these impacts. (CWS 2001) Officially, the mission of the lab is ‘to be the principal source of knowledge and expertise in the federal government on the impact of toxic substances on wildlife and the use of wildlife as indicators of environ-

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mental quality, to conduct national surveys and research on migratory birds, and to produce scientific publications on wildlife’ (Environment Canada 1998). This mission generates a possible tension between those who would study wildlife with a view towards conserving species for their own sake and those who would study wildlife as potential indicators of broader environmental problems that can affect ecosystems and, ultimately, humans. ‘Tension’ may be too strong a word, but the centre does seem to consist of two worlds that are influenced by these two perspectives. The NWRC’s work also encompasses R&D and RSA activities. The NWRC has two divisions: the Migratory Bird Populations Division (MBPD) and the Wildlife Toxicology Division (WTD). The MBPD consists of about fourteen staff, whose mission is to provide the science base for the conservation of migratory birds, their habitat, and the ecosystems of which they are a part, through research, surveys, and advice to other scientists, managers, policy officials, and the public. More specifically, its purposes are: • to conduct and lead research on bird populations and their habitats, focussing on national and international issues • to design and conduct national surveys on the hunting of migratory game birds and to analyze and report the results • to be the Canadian centre for bird banding projects, for the Breeding Bird Survey, and for coordination of volunteer participation in nongame bird surveys • to provide advice, support, and direction to wildlife researchers and to people in Canada and abroad who are assessing the health of wildlife (NWRC website, http://www.ec.gc.ca/scitech/) The bulk of the MBPD’s ongoing research programs – which are often conducted in partnership with CWS personnel in the regions – focus on four bird groups and on ecosystems: • Waterfowl. The lab conducts research to conserve populations and to provide sustainable harvesting opportunities for thirty-seven species of waterfowl in Canada. Historically, the emphasis has been on mallard and black ducks, but more recent research is focusing on other species of concern. Examples of research areas include the impacts of climate change on Arctic breeding geese, the decline in

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the white-winged scoter, and the effects of wetland buffer strip width on the proximity of waterfowl nests to wetland edges. Landbirds. Since landbirds are among the species most directly affected by large-scale changes in land use resulting from human activities (such as forestry, agriculture, and urbanization), the lab contributes to the population monitoring of more than two hundred species of migratory landbirds and of seventy-five more that are resident in Canada. Scientific input includes ensuring that new surveys meet standards for statistical reliability, testing survey protocols, recommending improvements to existing surveys, analysing results, and developing better analytical methods. Seabirds. The lab’s research contributes to greater understanding of the approximately fifty species of seabirds that nest in Canada. Seabirds are strongly affected by oceanographic events such as the El Niño southern oscillation and by commercial activities such as gill netting, longlining, and aquaculture. Research has focused on the distributions and populations in the Eastern Arctic – with special emphasis on the heavily hunted thick-billed murres – and on the impact of racoons and other predators on the Queen Charlotte Islands (Haida Gwaii). Shorebirds. Many of the approximately fifty species of shorebirds that nest in North America are highly migratory, flying as far as Europe, the southern tip of South America, or to Australasia to winter. Shorebird research and monitoring must therefore have a strong international component. Research has focused on migration routes, on the use of remote sensing to identify and evaluate key habitats, on biological requirements of the birds during breeding and migrating, and on factors affecting populations, such as climate change and pollution. Landscapes/Ecosystems. Besides conducting research on particular bird groups, the MBPD does research on biodiversity and on broader aspects of ecosystem functioning, such as predator–prey and bird–habitat relations. Examples include research on the impact of agriculture on terrestrial wildlife and ecosystems and on the importance of burned areas for the maintenance of forest biodiversity. The MBD also conducts geospatial analyses for wildlife at risk.

Beyond traditional research, the MBPD is heavily involved in the following national monitoring surveys and other related scientific activities:

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• National Harvest Survey. The lab documents the annual kill of waterfowl and other migratory game birds as well as trends in hunting activities. These data are used to set hunting regulations and bag limits. • North American Breeding Bird Survey (BBS). The lab coordinates the Canadian portion of the BBS, which tracks and reports on the longterm population trends of songbirds. • Canadian Bird Banding Office. The lab administers all bird-banding projects taking place in Canada and provides banding and recovery information on request. • Other bird monitoring activities. The lab promotes volunteer participation in various surveys of birds. As an example, the Canadian Landbird Monitoring Strategy is described in greater detail later. The NWRC’s other main unit is the WTD, which leads Environment Canada’s National Wildlife Toxicology Program at the lab and in each of Environment Canada’s five regions. This program’s objectives are (a) to provide information and advice on the factors influencing the health of wildlife and on the impacts of toxic substances on wildlife and their ecosystems, and (b) to develop the scientific basis for recommendations for policies and programs aimed at preventing, mitigating, and redressing these impacts on wildlife. The WTD’s research investigates the full range of effects, from the micro biochemical level to macro population levels, as well as impacts on the loss of uses of wildlife such as for food. The WTD also aims to develop means to use selected wildlife as indicators of ecosystem health and damage and as early warning sentinels of potential impacts of toxic substances on humans. More specifically, the purposes of the WTD are as follows: • to conduct research on the identification, measurement, and dynamics of toxic substances in wildlife, their food, and their habitats • to conduct research on the effects of toxic substances on wildlife • to monitor levels, sources, and effects of toxic substances in wildlife, to recommend the need for control actions, and to report on their effectiveness • to inform regulatory agencies and the public of the effects on wildlife of uses of pesticides and other toxic substances and to make recommendations for control actions (NWRC website)

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The division has about thirty-eight personnel, who are organized into four sections with the following missions: • Pesticides Section. Carries out or coordinates research relevant to the following activities: influencing the pesticide regulatory system to reduce the impacts of pesticides on wildlife and wildlife habitat; providing expert advice on pesticide–wildlife habitat issues; and investigating wildlife and wildlife habitat problems arising from pesticide use and pest control programs and practices. Activities include assessing the in-field safety of pesticides in Canada and, where necessary, building the case for regulatory changes; exploring possible links between amphibian declines and pesticide use; and developing more accurate risk estimation methods. • Contaminants Section. Identifies and interprets the impacts of contaminants (such as PCBs and lead shot) on Canadian wildlife, provides advice and recommendations to prevent or mitigate these effects, and informs the Canadian public. Activities include surveying contaminants in waterfowl; modelling the contaminant exposure of wildlife; researching the effects of endocrine disruptors; and evaluating the risks posed to wildlife by regulated substances. • Research Section. Provides scientific knowledge, expert advice, and specialized chemical and biochemical analyses in support of the following Environment Canada roles: – to identify existing environmental contaminants and their sources; – to measure and predict impacts of toxic chemicals, such as endocrine disruptors, on wildlife and their ecosystems; and – to develop qualitative and quantitative indices of temporal and spatial trends in environmental quality. This section’s activities include assessing Arctic ecosystem stress, contaminant dynamics, and trends in the Great Lakes and the St Lawrence River, and developing a bioenergetics-based model for contaminant bioaccumulation in birds. • Laboratory Services Section. Provides analytical lab services in support of the research and monitoring activities of the rest of the division. This section’s current expertise is focused on determining of trace and ultra-trace chemical contaminants in wildlife tissues and in biochemical biomarker assays. It has been accredited by the Standards Council, and its laboratory meets ISO requirements. Its activities include receiving approximately 6,500 specimens per year; maintaining the CWS Specimen Bank, which contains more than

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55,000 specimens; providing trace chemical analyses and biomarker services, and managing the lab’s computer network and the database for the National Registry of Toxic Chemical Residues. Until recently the lab actually consisted of three divisions: the two described above and a Scientific and Technical Documents Division. A reorganization has shifted the Documents Division to the CWS headquarters, leaving two divisions at the lab itself. The Documents Division had been responsible for the centre’s publications and technical reports and for maintaining the website. Some of these functions have since fallen to other parts of the organization. The loss of this division has meant there is one less senior manager at the centre. Changing Priorities and the Move to Carleton University In the other lab case study chapters, we explored the labs’ changing priorities by comparing the key issues identified in their successive business plans. The wildlife lab does not prepare business plans – at least, none that are publicly available. So in this section we highlight some of the changing priorities that emerged in our interviews with lab personnel and discuss what is probably the biggest change for the lab in recent years – its relocation to the campus of Carleton University. A key institutional change over the past decade can be seen in the gradual shift in wildlife research emphases. Reflecting the evolution of its parent, the CWS, the mandate of the lab has historically focused on migratory birds. More recently, it has extended its research to other types of wildlife, including amphibians (such as frogs) and large mammals (such as polar bears). As indicated, beyond this expansion in the range of species studied is a more fundamental shift away from a species-specific or individual toxin orientation towards a ‘landscape level’ or ‘whole ecosystems’ orientation. An increasing awareness of the broad impacts on wildlife habitats of urbanization, agricultural practices, chemicals in the environment, and climate change is forcing a shift in conservation thinking from the individual to the systemic. The need for ‘landscape-level’ approaches to conservation is challenging the existing modes of research and expertise directed at a single or a very few species. As will be further explored, this has led to greater use by the lab of formal networking and partnerships to deliver on its mandates. But one new

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relationship is worth discussing here, given its strong impact on the lab’s operations. At its new location at Carleton University, the lab is facing a number of key challenges and opportunities. Not the least of these relates to how the relocation to a university campus will affect its organizational culture and research effectiveness. The university is technically only its landlord, but spatial and day-to-day interactions are having their effects on the lab (Grant 2004). The lab must first serve the policy and regulatory needs of Environment Canada and of the CWS, but it will now interact with research students and faculty at Carleton more heavily. One can expect that the challenges of the relocation will be a key consideration for the lab’s management in the near term. Many lab scientists consider the move as a positive development. There is no doubt that the relocation to new facilities has solved many of the organization’s research infrastructure problems. Also on the positive side, collaborations with Carleton have increased. As a result of the move, the lab has involved more students than it expected. This is in part the indirect result of the fact that many lab research staff have become adjunct professors at Carleton. The lab’s scientists also sit on a number of graduate student thesis committees (ibid.). A further example of collaboration came with the opening in 2004 of a $2 million Geomatics and Landscape Ecology Research Lab. This lab involves Carleton faculty and Wildlife Centre researchers in work on remote sensing, species conservation, habitat mapping, biodiversity, forest structure, and population modelling (Carleton University 2004). This project has also brought levered resources to the lab through the project’s joint funding by the Canada Foundation for Innovation, the Ontario Innovation Trust, and private donors – sources that are not directly available to the lab but that are available to Carleton. In addition, negotiations are under way to establish a National Wildlife Research Centre–Carleton Centre for Biodiversity. Such a centre would have to be operated and managed jointly but also separately to ensure that it effectively serves the different core mandates of the two institutions (ibid.). On the other hand, one scientist mentioned that some of the lab’s onsite contractors are concerned that they may be replaced by graduate students. There is already a shortage of space for visiting researchers and postdoctoral students, in part because of the greater number of Carleton science students already involved (ibid.). There have also

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been unexpected issues, such as post–9/11 security requirements, which have adversely affected the free movement of students who are not Environment Canada–NWRC employees. From the government’s perspective, it will be of interest to examine (a) impact the relocation has on the communication of science for policy needs and (b) the effectiveness of the science/policy interface between the lab and the department. Over time, the lab may find itself contending with two hierarchies simultaneously – the department’s, and the university’s. The lab’s relocation represents a case worth watching by other government laboratories that may be considering physically relocating themselves to a university campus. The NWRC and the Policy Menu Framework S&T Innovation Commercialization Policies The wildlife lab’s management is certainly broadly aware of the evolving demands of federal S&T–innovation–commercialization policy. But it is quite determined to see itself as an institution involved in research of a public good nature. It exhibits very little in the way of a commercial orientation and has very few links to the private sector. This is not surprising, given the lab’s mandate to deliver public good environmental science and the relative lack of any commercial interest in this type of research. As for market-oriented or business-like practices these, too, are not very evident at the lab (see table 6.1 for a summary of the NWRC with reference to the policy menu framework). The NWRC is an institution within a traditional line department of government. It is not a more arm’s-length institution such as Atomic Energy of Canada Ltd or the National Research Council. These and other government labs have in place or are experimenting with business-like independent boards of directors. The wildlife lab is ultimately governed ‘up’ the Environment Canada hierarchy; thus, a governing board would be inappropriate. Unlike some other government laboratories, the wildlife lab has not made use of an independent board of a more advisory nature, although it does fall within the purview of Environment Canada’s department-wide Science and Technology Advisory Board. There is some contracting for services across a range of functions, including scientific analysis, fieldwork, and support services. But according to lab staff, the use of short-term contracts arises more from

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Table 6.1. NWRC and the policy menu framework S&T/innovation/commercialization policies – focus has been on public goods research in context of environmental mandate – no commercial orientation or ‘business-like’ approaches – no technology transfer – research and monitoring supports regulation at provincial level – relocation of the NWRC to Carleton University Sustainable development (SD) and environmental policies – an SD lab in practice before there was a federal policy on SD – conservation ethic at the core of lab mandate and history; not a ‘triple bottom line’ approach – SD research debate reflected in shifting research emphasis from ‘species-specific’ to ‘landscape-level’ or ‘whole ecology’ orientation – level of threat and scope of threat seen to be increasing nationally and globally – expanded statutory base from Migratory Birds Convention to laws and treaties on species at risk and biodiversity Parent department mandate and changing political-economic context – located within Canadian Wildlife Service, which in turn is part of the Environmental Conservation Service of Environment Canada – growing mandates from laws and treaties on species at risk and biodiversity – concern about adequacy of the science/policy interface in the context of this new enlarged mandate and the relocation to Carleton University – performance approach and business plans not insisted upon – potential future issues about dual hierarchy with location at Carleton University Macro and micro budgetary management policies – smaller budget and personnel cuts during Program Review in part because of larger cuts during Mulroney era – funding not restored to pre–Program Review levels – deteriorating physical lab equipment and buildings prior to relocation to Carleton – has S&T staff that stay for career; now facing retirements but seen as opportunity to build new capacity for larger role Changing policy-induced linkages with universities, business, other governments, and communities – university linkages changed in major day-to-day way with move to Carleton University (more student links; adjunct faculty links) – several formal networks involving universities and other government players; NWRC often serves as coordinator/catalyst – involvement in new Geomatics and Landscape Ecology Centre at Carleton, and discussions underway for joint NWRC–Carleton Centre for Biodiversity – business links are extremely limited – links with NGOs such as Ducks Unlimited and citizen-science ‘birders’ are extensive and central to NWRC’s culture of networking – expanding international links

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the lack of full-time positions available than from a need to employ specific external expertise for short periods of time. This is consistent with the overall trend across the public service towards greater use of term, contract, and casual staff. In the MBPD there is very little commercial activity, although contracting out is occasionally employed. For example, this division worked with an external consultant to develop training materials for the volunteer birders, and at times it contracts out data analysis to outside scientists (again, usually for reasons of workload, not lack of internal expertise). In the area of intellectual property rights, the group occasionally must purchase the rights to use photographs on its website, but otherwise it has not been affected by IP concerns, as it is not in the business of producing anything patentable. In the WTD, the Laboratory Services group performs laboratory testing and chemical analyses on tissues sent in from the regions; conceivably, this work could be viewed as a source of external funds (though still internal to Environment Canada). However, this service is usually funded from the lab’s base budget rather than on a cost recovery basis. There is little or no use of the diagnostic laboratory facilities by the private sector or by academic scientists (other than by the graduate students working with the lab’s scientists). The lab’s personnel believe that any efforts to provide such analytical services would be viewed as competing inappropriately with private-sector analytical labs. A few years ago there was a brief attempt to ‘market’ a wildlife contaminants exposure model the lab had created. This model inputs potential exposure levels of various environmental contaminants and outputs the potential resulting impacts on certain wildlife species. It was thought that such a model might interest the growing environmental consulting services sector in that it would provide them an extra tool for preparing environmental impact analyses. However, the lab abandoned this effort when it was determined that it would not be cost effective. In the end, the model was turned over to the U.S. EPA under an agreement that allows free use by Canada. The wildlife lab is unlike some of the other Environment Canada labs, such as the ETC (see chapter 5), which have key industrial sectors (automotive, petrochemical) as major clients and partners. If anything, there tends to be a tension between the wildlife lab and industry, given the lab’s role in identifying problems in the environment that are often a result of industrial processes. Technology transfer is not an activity of the lab, as it creates no technologies to speak of and rarely generates

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patents. Not surprisingly, no spin-off companies have been formed from the lab. SD and Environmental Policies The lab (and the CWS more generally) was an SD agency well before there was a federal SD policy per se. The SD paradigm emerged in the mid-1980s, but by then it had long been part of the Canadian wildlife research community, which has always had a strong conservation ethic (Doern and Conway 1994). The lab’s mandate is anchored in federal environmental policy not only by its long-term involvement in migratory birds but also, more recently, through treaties and policies on endangered species, toxic substances, and biodiversity. According to the CWS strategic plan, many of the conservation challenges the service has long faced are increasing in severity, scope, and impact on wildlife resources. By 1999, 340 species in Canada – including 52 species of birds – had formal national designation as species at risk, and three of the twelve species that have been confirmed as extinct in Canada have been birds (CWS 2000). ‘At the other end of the spectrum, some human activities that upset ecological balances have led to burgeoning populations of several species now considered overabundant, again presenting conservation challenges’ (ibid., 4). These changes are also increasing the susceptibility of wildlife to disease and other population health effects. The CWS is responsible for much of the Species at Risk Act (SARA). It is unclear at this time what the specific implications of this law will be for the lab. Clearly, the legislation will bring new requirements for research in support of conserving an increasing number of wildlife species. The lab will likely require increased research capacity, beyond its historical emphasis on birds, if it is to meet the challenges of this law and other SD initiatives.2 Indeed, the need for improvements to research capacity, in terms of expertise, facilities, and funding, is a common challenge across many government laboratories. But the challenge of revitalizing research capacity at the wildlife lab is not neces-

2 Although there is some indication that much of the research related to species at risk will be done via contract with academics and others, rather than in-house, it can still be expected that the lab will require additional capacity to deal with a broader range of species.

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sarily a question of merely replacing ‘rusted out’ infrastructure or restoring lost expertise along historical requirements; it involves identifying what capacity is required to meet current needs and emerging challenges. The CWS has created the Wildlife Research Task Force, which, alongside other efforts, is seeking opportunities to enhance its science partnerships. The task force intends to examine university partnerships in particular, as a strategy for addressing science capacity concerns.3 Another potential SD and environmental policy regulatory challenge referred to earlier is the tension between research oriented towards ‘wildlife conservation’ for its own sake and research on ‘wildlife as indicators’ of broader environmental problems. It is not entirely clear how the appropriate balance between these two emphases is determined by the lab. Other government laboratories have made use of external advisory bodies to provide independent expert advice on such strategic issues; the lab, as we have seen, does not currently have in place an advisory body that could provide laboratory-wide advice across its mandate and research objectives. Parent Department Mandates and Changing Political-Economic Context The lab is situated in a CWS and departmental hierarchy. Despite increasing efforts to employ network-based approaches, the lab is ultimately governed ‘up’ through these hierarchies. Specifically, the lab’s director reports to the director general of the CWS, who in turn reports to the assistant deputy minister, Environmental Conservation Service. The lab’s programming and planning must be approved within this hierarchy and is influenced by the policies and accompanying rules that flow from these higher levels, including from other parts of government. The lab must also be responsive to specific legislation, international treaties, and the complex multilayered federal/provincial jurisdictional considerations with respect to wildlife research and the regulation of wildlife practices. Wildlife is still mainly a provincial jurisdiction, but it is becoming increasingly federal and international. It seems that there is very little interaction between the higher levels

3 Note that the adage ‘you need to bring money to get money’ applies here. In order to have influence on the work done by partners, the lab will have to bring money to the table.

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of Environment Canada’s hierarchy and the lab’s staff below the level of division chief. This pattern reflects the hierarchical characteristics of a vertical command-and-control reporting structure. However, it must be noted that the lab collaborates horizontally with other CWS scientists and officials both in the national capital area and in the regions. While the organization chart shows classic hierarchical lines of authority, the internal structure of the lab is – as with many scientific establishments – quite flat, and functions in a highly collaborative and horizontal manner. As noted earlier, the wildlife lab has only two divisions: the MBPD and the WTD. Lab management consists of the director, the two division chiefs, and three section heads within the WTD. Below these levels, and even including these levels, superior– subordinate relationships seem to be quite informal. The culture and position of the lab within its parent department is partly revealed in its publications. Besides articles published in scientific journals, some of the centre’s research is communicated through departmental publications and technical reports. However, the mechanisms by which the lab’s science is communicated to the department’s policy shop – across the science/policy interface – are not clear. For example, the previously cited purposes of the WTD speak of a mandate to ‘inform’ regulatory agencies rather than of active processes of advice and response. Some scientists have little knowledge (or even interest) in how their research might potentially drive policy or regulation. Other scientists are indeed interested in the science/policy interface and feel that the existing mechanisms for cooperation and communication are woefully inadequate. Thus, relationships across the science/policy interface are not strong, and the ‘science into policy’ communication that does exist typically flows up the chain of command, thereby exhibiting the vertical flow characteristic of hierarchies.4 ‘Reinvented government’ reforms were introduced in the federal government in an attempt to reduce certain pathologies common to hierarchies. At the same time, they introduced new bureaucratic requirements in the interest of greater public accountability and more business-like and performance-based management approaches. The lab’s management and its scientific personnel both commented that the management team attempts to ‘shield’ the scientific personnel from

4 Note, however, that some ‘science into policy’ action takes place through network partners.

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bureaucratic requirements such as for business plans, annual reports, and personnel performance appraisals. As indicated, unlike the other labs in this book, the wildlife lab apparently does not produce business plans and annual reports on a routine basis. With regard to the government-wide performance evaluation system, opinions at the lab are mixed: some of the scientific staff find it effective, others find it arbitrary. Many of the scientists with management responsibilities would prefer to be able to do more science. This, even though adding management responsibility to one’s job description is one of the few avenues for career advancement for those not classified as research scientists. Macro and Micro Budgetary Management Policies The final item in the previous section already partially crosses over into our interest in macro and micro budgetary management policy impacts, interpretations, and choices for the NWRC. As with most federal S&T establishments, which were particularly hard hit by Program Review, the NWRC budget was cut following 1994–5, at which point its budget had reached almost $7 million. Since then the budget has been relatively stable and flat – between $5 million and $6 million per year.5 Detailed statistics are not available, but the lab spends the vast majority of its budget on in-house S&T rather than on funding work external to the lab.6 This intramural S&T is split almost equally between R&D and RSA. It has been estimated that RSA accounts for a slightly higher proportion of the overall activity: 53 per cent, with R&D at 47 per cent. Personnel levels show a similar trend over the past decade. In 1990–1 the lab had fifty-six personnel, and in 1994–5 about seventy; between 1997–8 and 2000–1 the level hovered around sixty. In the years following the departure of the S&T Documents Division, and currently,

5 One commentator noted that while operating funds have been relatively flat, with no increases to cover inflation, computer and information technology costs have skyrocketed over the past decade, resulting in declining ‘actual’ operating budgets. 6 Budget data provided for the year 1998–9 show the following breakdown: salaries ($3.25 million), operating and minor capital ($1.09 million), capital ($0.24 million), grants and contributions ($0.25 million), and external ($0.94 million).

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total personnel hovers around fifty. The staff positions can be broken down as follows: about thirty scientific and professional, seventeen technical, and six program and administrative. In the numbers quoted there are typically about ten term employees, who tend to be in technician positions. At any given time the lab’s staff will also include about ten on-site contractors and graduate students beyond the numbers quoted above. At present, one emeritus scientist is working at the lab. The relatively lower cuts in budgets and personnel for the lab through the mid-1990s program review period – during which many sciencebased departments experienced major cuts – reflects the fact that more dramatic cuts had come earlier to the lab during the years of the Mulroney government. In 1986, budget cuts led to the lab losing about half its personnel (Doern 2000; Doern and Conway 1994). Later, with the Conservatives’ 1990 Green Plan, it appeared for a time that there would be a substantial ramping up of resources. Given the long-term character of wildlife research, management planning and programming responded accordingly. However, the Green Plan was subsequently cut, and the lab’s resources have remained relatively flat ever since. The wildlife lab operates in a very informal environment, one in which office doors are open and the staff are on a first-name basis despite the range of educational degrees and titles. One scientist, commenting on the low turnover rate, said that ‘people spend their careers here.’ However, a higher turnover in the staff is foreseen in the not too distant future as a large number of personnel are nearing retirement age. While these retirements will represent a loss of institutional memory and expertise, the situation is largely viewed as an opportunity to diversify the lab’s skill sets and gain expertise in the organization’s new areas of responsibility and also to take advantage of its relocation to Carleton University. Also of concern with respect to research capacity is the state of the lab’s physical assets. These include, among other things: nine buildings7 (including two designated as ‘heritage’ buildings) that house offices, laboratories, an aviary, an auditorium, and storage space; analytical laboratory equipment; four walk-in freezers and other ultra-low temperature freezers used to store specimens; field equipment; and computers. A key concern is the age of these capital facilities and equipment. In 1998 it was estimated that the equipment associated with the wildlife toxicol-

7 All of its building assets were sold to the new city of Gatineau as of December 2001.

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ogy program had a total value of about $2.5 million, and that about $2.2 million worth was more than seven years old. The Canadian Council for Animal Care had earlier closed down two of the lab’s aviaries and wanted upgrades to the third one, which also had been closed recently as part of more cuts. Other facilities gaps included an incubator room, an amphibian facility, a greenhouse, a library, field vehicles, and common areas for staff meetings and interactions. The ‘rust-out’ of infrastructure not only was harming research capacity but also was placing at risk the health and safety of employees. At the wildlife lab, government health and safety violations relating to chemical storage and air handling were a concern. The lack of adequate laboratory facilities (such as an animal holding facility) and overcrowded laboratory and office spaces were limiting productivity and research effectiveness and increasing down times owing to health and safety concerns. As discussed above, the lab had been able to address many of these issues by relocating to a new facility at Carleton. This last point leads us to examine another aspect of the lab and its response to federal management policies centred on human resources policies and processes. In order to continue to provide its clients with cutting-edge science and science advice, a government laboratory must constantly renew the knowledge embodied in its human capital. Some government S&T establishments have been extended greater independence and flexibility with respect to hiring; in contrast, the wildlife lab must comply with, and operate within, the governmentwide human resources system. This system is often viewed as a barrier to effective human resource management. Clearly, based on its use of contract, term, and student personnel, the lab has learned how to manoeuvre within the system as it attempts to cope with its human resource challenges. Nevertheless, as with many laboratories, the wildlife lab faces an aging workforce. Attracting younger staff will be critical not only because they can bring new energy, different approaches, and more recent S&T knowledge, but also because of their importance in maintaining a vibrant and stimulating research environment. The co-location with Carleton has already helped attract more young people to the lab and into wildlife research generally. Policy-Induced Linkages The lab’s scientists are very closely networked with the broader scientific community. Networks are evident with scientists primarily in

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academe and NGOs; as well, there are some international linkages and collaborations with other government departments. Given the organization’s research areas, networking with industry scientists is rare though not entirely non-existent. Within this component of the framework, we highlight some of the types of linkages and networking, both formal and informal, found at the lab. universities linkages The lab has close ties with the academic sector, and personal, informal networks are pervasive. At least seven NWRC scientists serve as adjunct faculty at six universities (Carleton, Ottawa, Trent, McGill, Guelph, and Oregon State), and such relationships have increased since the move to Carleton. As a result of these connections, at any given time a number of graduate students are being supervised by lab scientists and are able to make use of the lab’s facilities. However, the students typically have to ‘bring their own money’ through an NSERC grant or from some other form of support, as the lab is unable to pay them. Exhibiting the horizontal communication common to networks, the bulk of the lab’s knowledge products are communicated to the broader scientific community through academic journals rather than the more ‘up the line’ style of communications common to hierarchical public bureaucracies (such as ministerial correspondences, departmental memoranda, and technical reports). Universities are definitely not a key source of funds for the lab. In fact, in the past few years they have often been viewed as competitors for federal research funding. As shown in previous chapters, this perspective has been enhanced by the government’s creation of new foundations and funds for which universities are eligible to compete but federal laboratories are not. Nevertheless, the wildlife lab is engaged in a number of formal networks involving universities, not necessarily as a way to get additional funds but rather more typically as a way to access expertise and promote research collaboration. Formal networks involving academe include the Canadian Cooperative Wildlife Health Centre (see below), the Atlantic Cooperative Wildlife Ecology Research Network, and the Simon Fraser University Cooperative Research Unit. The lab is often a lead partner in these networks, in which it plays the role of coordinator and catalyst. One of the first formal networks involving the WTD and universities was the Canadian Cooperative Wildlife Health Centre (CCWHC). The

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CCWHC is a network of centres of wildlife health services and disease surveillance located at Canada’s four veterinary colleges. Established in 1992, it is the result of a collaboration of federal, provincial, and territorial government agencies, the Max Bell Foundation, the Canadian Wildlife Federation, and the veterinary schools at the universities of Prince Edward Island, Montreal (St-Hyacinthe), Guelph, and Saskatchewan. This network has relationships with other federal partners besides Environment Canada, including the Laboratory Centres for Disease Control of Health Canada, Fisheries and Oceans Canada, Parks Canada, and the Canadian Food Inspection Agency. The three fundamental principles that have guided the CCWHC reflect the strengths of a network-based organization: 1 Canada requires a coordinated national program in wild animal health. 2 A national program in wildlife health must rely heavily upon the existing cadre of wildlife biologists across the country. 3 A national program in wildlife health should integrate, not duplicate, work on wildlife health and disease that already is being done in Canada. (CCWHC 1998) Thus, the CCWHC provides a network of formal and informal communications among the broadest possible spectrum of people with expertise and/or interest in wildlife health issues; the goal here is to maximize the availability and use of information generated by wildlife health workers (ibid.). The primary service provided by the network is the surveillance of wildlife diseases. This involves detecting and diagnosing diseases, managing and disseminating disease surveillance information, and offering consultations. Given the increasing potential for the movement of diseases around the world, the need for such services is no longer merely a domestic concern. According to a recent report, ‘disease surveillance has become increasingly important in the arena of international trade and trade regulations to protect the health of Canadian wildlife’ (ibid.). The World Trade Organization has considered erecting non-tariff barriers based on animal diseases. Consistent with the general trend towards science-based trade regulations (Browne et al. 2000), nations wishing to deny access of foreign animals to their domestic markets will now have to demonstrate that there is a true risk

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associated with their importation. This in turn requires complete and scientifically sound information about the diseases present in the country. The network plays an important role in this regard. From the point of view of the wildlife lab, the network is able to provide services relating to wildlife health and animal pathology that the lab no longer has the capacity to provide in-house. non-governmental organizations and the voluntary sector Many non-governmental organizations (NGOs) are involved in wildlife conservation in Canada, and these are seen by the wildlife lab as key partners that bring expertise, resources, and alternative service delivery approaches to the table. In fact, some NGOs have established themselves as essential wildlife actors fulfilling key conservation roles.8 Among these are Ducks Unlimited, which spends millions of dollars improving the habitats of waterfowl in Canada, and the Canadian Wildlife Federation, whose efforts are largely aimed at public education regarding the importance of conserving wildlife species. As with universities, however, these and other wildlife organizations do not represent major sources of funds for wildlife research. Nevertheless, linkages and partnerships between the NWRC and NGOs are becoming increasingly prevalent. One example is Bird Studies Canada’s activities in national and regional bird surveys and volunteer monitoring projects. Indeed, the main partners of the Migratory Bird Populations Division are in the voluntary sector; most of them are local naturalist or bird enthusiast clubs and conservation groups. The status of game birds has long been a concern, given their role in recreational hunting in Canada. But according to lab documents, there is also growing concern about the health of non-game bird populations in Canada. Developing sound conservation strategies for these landbirds requires an understanding of their status and population trends and of the causes of population change. Obtaining this information requires an extensive monitoring program well beyond the capabilities of any one institution. As a consequence, the CWS adopted in 1994 the Canadian 8 It is important to note, however, that NGOs such as Bird Studies Canada rely on fund raising for their operations and, hence, must focus on ‘interesting’ functions that generate revenue. Consequently, NGOs may not be able to perform all of the required long-term monitoring or data management and analysis functions. This provides a rationale for NWRC involvement.

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Landbird Monitoring Strategy as a component of its overall conservation program for birds. This strategy relies heavily on networking. The Monitoring Strategy is intended to integrate the numerous monitoring activities conducted by various government departments and conservation organizations. It has three main goals: first, to collect information to assess the health of landbird populations; second, to identify species or species groups that are a priority for conservation; and third, to ensure that accurate data and trends are readily available to wildlife managers and to the public. In pursuing these goals, the wildlife lab relies heavily on volunteer surveys conducted by a vast network of volunteer birders to provide data on bird populations. For example, in the Christmas Bird Count, which dates back to 1900, bird counts are provided by more than 40,000 participants throughout North America. Another component of the overall Strategy is the Breeding Bird Survey, which is designed to detect and measure year-to-year and long-term changes in songbird populations. Unlike the lab’s involvement with waterfowl, which has long been tied to hunting regulations, the Canadian involvement in the international survey of breeding birds has not been the result of legislation. Rather, ornithologists in the United States approached Canadian scientists with an interest in extending their ability to track songbirds following the call to action of Rachel Carson’s influential book Silent Spring. From its beginnings in eastern Canada in 1966, the BBS has grown to encompass 450 routes in Canada (of 3,000 overall in North America), with coverage in all provinces and territories. Over 90 per cent of the routes are surveyed by volunteer birders. With this growth, the survey required greater coordination and quality control. This is being achieved through Partners in Flight, an umbrella group that brings together representatives from NGOs, academe, and governments to coordinate the program. Through its participation in the group, the lab assists in the identification of problems, sets priorities for research, and coordinates conservation actions. It is also becoming more involved with formal training of the participants. In the United States, the desire for accuracy in the surveys has led to a certification process for birders. In Canada, training is encouraged and volunteers can obtain training tapes and videos, but there is as yet no certification test. Birders’ reports are collected by regional coordinators and forwarded to the lab. Statisticians at the lab analyse the data and track long-term trends for approximately 172 species. The information is

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published in reports, which are used by government scientists, academics, and conservation groups. Public outreach to volunteer participants and school groups is also a part of the program. In this wonderful example of ‘citizen science’ and a network form of program delivery, the desire for well-trained, competent observers is balanced by the recognition that their status is voluntary and by the government’s heavy dependence on volunteers to deliver on its mandate. other national and international linkages The wildlife lab’s scientists also work with other federal and provincial government departments with an interest in wildlife. At the federal level, the MPBD has recently worked with Parks Canada and the Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development. They have found that the traditional knowledge of local people can improve birdmonitoring techniques. As part of the CCWHC, the WTD has ties with other government departments interested in animal health. International linkages are also important at the lab, for at least two reasons. First, wildlife species do not necessarily respect geopolitical boundaries in their migration or habitats. Second, the rise of international trade has brought increasing challenges relating to exotic species, pests, and animal diseases to the conservation of wildlife in Canada. In the face of these pressures, as well as the normal networking that occurs naturally within the broader scientific community, the lab’s scientists are engaged in both formal and informal international networks. Some participate in peer review panels for the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency or for wildlife research programs in Europe. One member of the lab’s staff has served as a visiting scientist in France. Another scientist collaborates with researchers in South America. The lab’s management views these connections as important to maintaining and enhancing the scientific currency of the centre’s research. From this section it is clear that the wildlife lab is becoming more heavily involved in network-based forms of program delivery. This is perhaps not surprising, given the pressures in government to move away from hierarchical designs and given the inappropriateness of more market-oriented approaches in the wildlife research context. Conclusions This chapter has examined how the NWRC has changed in the past fifteen years as a crucial SD frontline federal S&T laboratory. We have not

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sought to assess the lab’s substantive S&T activities or the contributions of its research groups, but we have shown how the lab has had to respond to, take advantage of, and in other senses adapt and survive amidst changing policies at the federal level and in the underlying dynamics of wildlife research and conservation. The lab has been fully aware of the broader evolution of federal S&T–innovation–commercialization policies but has strongly restricted itself to performing and coordinating public good research and related scientific activities. It has not pursued commercialization policies. With respect to overall federal SD and environment policies, the lab was practising SD long before there were official policies on SD as such. In responding to its parent department’s mandates, including those of the CWS, the lab has had to adapt to significant changes in environmental and wildlife research priorities as new international agreements and national statutes have been promulgated in areas such as species at risk, biodiversity, and toxic substances. The wildlife lab’s responses to macro and micro budgetary management policies have been complex and numerous. It has had to respond to changes in budgetary support (for example, the demise of the Green Plan, program review budget cuts, and the rise of interdepartmental policy and program funds); to changes in public service delivery policies and expectations (such as the embrace of levered funding, networking, partnerships, and alternative service delivery); and to changes in S&T policy in which views about the roles of labs were not first-order concerns. These latter changes have had unintended adverse effects on the laboratories (for example, they have led to a shift from science policy to innovation policy, with an emphasis on the economic development roles of government S&T). The lab has confronted these pressures and has sought to carry out good work in the context of diverse changes. Clearly, the NWRC is a highly networked organization with both informal and formal relationships in Canada and internationally. In particular, networks involving universities, NGOs, and other government departments are important and are increasingly being formalized in order to support program delivery. The lab is often in a lead position within these networks. Linkages involving business and industry are virtually non-existent. The lab has changed and is continuing to change as an S&T institution. It has had to cope with budget cuts, an aging workforce and infrastructure, changing research priorities, and shifting government

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expectations, while continuing to provide unique and high-quality outputs in support of wildlife research. The relocation to Carleton University has provided a new beginning that will present both new challenges and new opportunities.

7 Related Science Activities in the Regulatory and Monitoring Process

Related science activities (RSA) are at the core of the federal government’s ability to regulate effectively and to practise other crucial monitoring activities in the public interest. This chapter builds on the discussion in chapters 1 and 2, in which we noted that RSA seems at times to be a residual category of government S&T, not ‘research’ and not ‘development’ but somehow still involving science. Moreover, the designation RSA means that the question is not automatically answered as to what it is and what it is related to. The implication is that it is related to R&D, but this underplays its crucial role in government policy, monitoring activities, and regulation. This chapter also builds on earlier discussion regarding the need in government science to understand both pre-market regulatory product or substance assessment and approval activity and post-market general monitoring and assessment activity. To complement the analysis of the four R&D-based laboratories in the previous four chapters, we now look at four federal agencies that focus more directly on RSA, and through those activities develop an understanding of the nature of this crucial feature of government science. We examine four illustrative agencies, two in Health Canada and two in Environment Canada. The four case study agencies are the New Substances Branch and the Water Survey of Canada (both in Environment Canada) and the Veterinary Drugs Directorate and the Consumer and Clinical Radiation Protection Bureau (both in Health Canada). The examples in this chapter will show that RSA involves various regulatory and service tasks such as the following: the direct ‘premarket’ assessment of product proposals and applications; the en-

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forcement of rules; the drafting of science-based guideline documents for any number of Canadian client groups and users of products; the ‘post-market’ monitoring of products and their effects once they are on the market; the general and targeted monitoring of activities, volumes, and impacts of environmental and health hazards and risks at numerous discrete sites, many of them remote and dangerous; the tendering of advice to professional groups; and the exchange of knowledge, information, and advice with international bodies and fellow practitioners of RSA in other countries and jurisdictions. Indeed, the central argument in this chapter is that RSA is crucial to the regulatory role of government – to the monitoring of risks and health and environmental effects and thus to policy, governance, and risk management in Canada. Far from being an afterthought or something that is simply ‘not R&D,’ RSA is the quintessential core of government S&T, and as such it is necessary if the state is to regulate and monitor in the public interest. This chapter seeks to flesh out more clearly what RSA is, what it is related to, and why it plays a crucial and growing role for federal S&T. This growing importance comes at a time when federal policy seems focused in its public statements mainly or even solely on R&D, and when even the emphasis on R&D often focuses (in federal policy terms) on having science performed as much as possible in the private sector and in universities rather than by government. This chapter has two sections. The first profiles the basic mandates and characteristics of the four illustrative agencies. The second analyses and compares the four example agencies and their RSA functions in relation to five elements: (a) their core decision-making and/or riskassessment and risk-management cycles and volumes; (b) the nature of their external RSA partnerships and dependencies; (c) their RSA personnel issues and competences; (d) their RSA equipment/capital funding and challenges; and (e) other residual but not unimportant dynamics that influence the conduct of RSA in the four agencies being examined. Each of the four case agencies examined in this chapter must function within its parent department’s mandate, statutes, and organizational and business-line structures. We do not go into these departmental features in any detail, and will refer to them only insofar as it is necessary in order to elaborate on the illustrative examples. It is important to note here the two departments’ ratios of R&D to RSA. Health Canada’s own breakdown indicates that 75 per cent of its

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S&T employees do RSA work, with about 55 per cent doing risk assessment of products and environmental risks.1 R&D constitutes about 25 per cent of the total. Of Environment Canada’s total S&T expenditures, 72 per cent are for RSA and 28 per cent are for R&D (Environment Canada 2000b, summary). Its breakdown of S&T employees is 75 per cent on RSA and 25 per cent on R&D. In both expenditure and personnel terms, Health Canada and Environment Canada do by far the largest percentage of RSA-focused work compared to the other major federal science-based departments. The Four Case Study Agencies ‘at a Glance’ This chapter does not offer four full-blown case studies. Rather, we examine the four agencies as a means to understand more completely the nature of RSA. Accordingly, in this section we provide initial accounts of each agency’s mandate and structure, and its RSA versus R&D mix of activities, as well as an initial sense of its core operating realities. In short, we provide profiles ‘at a glance,’ beginning with the two agencies engaged in broad monitoring tasks and then looking at the two agencies with pre-market regulatory roles and tasks. Later, we compare particular features of the agencies, with an eye to their involvement in pre-market versus post-market or other forms of monitoring activity. The Water Survey of Canada (Environment Canada) The Water Survey of Canada (WSC) is part of the Meteorological Service of Canada at Environment Canada and is the primary operator for the national water quantity monitoring network. This agency is the main ‘recognized national authority and source of standardized water data, information, expertise and related technology in the areas of water monitoring and hydrology’ (Water Survey Program 2003, 1). Technology, as applied by the agency through the science of ‘hydrometry,’ is the core capacity that allows the agency to carry out its mandate and to ensure that data and information products and services are ‘standardized, up-to-date and delivered in a timely manner’ (ibid., 1). As a monitoring agency with a dominant RSA role, a key challenge for

1 Data provided by Health Canada.

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the WSC is to ensure that its government, business, and recreational activity clients receive the real-time data services they require and demand. Environment Canada also has current and new program needs, which the WSC must support and be cognizant of. The data the agency produces are a public good and are used routinely to develop and manage thousands of small projects, such as ditches, as well as large hydropower facilities, and to inform environmental impact decisions in environmental assessment processes. Thus the agency’s data are used by cottagers and businesses and by governments in myriad tasks and regulatory contexts. The WSC’s mandate can be traced back to 1908, but its modern expression can be found in the Canada Water Act, Part 1, Section 7, which empowers the minister directly or in cooperation with any provincial government ‘to conduct research, collect data, and establish inventories.’ More broadly, the mandate is to ‘provide nationally coherent, relevant and effective hydrologic monitoring and information services to all Canadians, enabling wise decisions affecting security of life and property, efficiency and economy, and protection of environmental quality’ (ibid., 3). Its current mission statement indicates that the agency is ‘to contribute to the sustainable management of Canada’s water and related resources’ (ibid., 3). In cooperation with all the provinces and territories, the organization operates a Canada-wide network of hydrometric stations at which water levels are automatically monitored. In addition, stream flow velocity is measured by technologists and is used to derive stream flow data and other hydrological information. These data are also used to help Canada meet its obligations under more than thirty international treaties and federal–provincial–territorial conventions, agreements, and boards. The agency operates with an Ottawa headquarters group, five regional offices, and twenty-five district offices located across Canada. But the network per se provides real-time and historical data at over 2,411 sites as well as historical data for an additional five thousand non-active sites. The WSC has a current budget of approximately $26.3 million, $12.7 million of which comes from the provinces and territories under water quantity cost-share agreements. Its budget was severely cut (by 30 per cent) during the mid-1990s program review. Its 185 professional staff are involved overwhelmingly in RSA work but some do R&D work, tied closely to the core mandate. Most of the staff operate in the

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field, often in remote areas. The actual monitoring work is not easy to do and can be dangerous. Two deaths in recent years have prompted action under federal occupational health and safety law – action that has included funding for new and safer monitoring technologies. The agency also operates a Regina office whose focus, on a cost-recovery basis, is on business development to take advantage of opportunities to utilize WSC expertise via CIDA and UN work. The agency has enjoyed considerable stability in that staff tend to stay for long careers and also in the sense that continuities of method, technology, and technique are crucial to the production of consistent and reliable time series data. But at the same time, the agency faces ongoing needs to adapt to the newest computer and data acquisition technologies. Two key influences are already present and are destined to grow in importance. The first is the low-cost availability of new micro-processing technologies that ‘have progressed to the point where they can be adapted or designed to operate as part of devices that can measure velocity or flow rates directly in an open and often harsh natural environment’ (ibid., 13). The second is that clients and various users are demanding greater access to real-time stream flow data. In addition, the agency’s staff and technologists must have access to the same data through hand-held computers in order to manage the system. This shift to an ‘on the fly’ paradigm ‘is all the more challenging when considering the reality that the existing tried and proven operational systems must be maintained to provide continuity of service until the new systems have proven themselves to be able to replace the current ones’ (ibid., 13). To function in a way that is as integrated and sustainable as possible, the agency is now beginning to operate through six management processes, which can be seen as the core components of the water quantity monitoring business. These are (1) network evaluation and planning, (2) measurement of environmental parameters, (3) telecommunication and data retrieval, (4) data production and estimation, (5) long-term data archive, and (6) data, information, and services (ibid., 14). The overall work involves extensive federal–provincial contact and coordination. Regular meetings of the federal and provincial agreement coordinators are held at the regional and national levels, and the administrators meet on an annual basis. These activities function under the Federal– Provincial–Territorial Cost Sharing Agreements on Water Quantity Surveys, which were signed in 1975.

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The Consumer and Clinical Radiation Protection Bureau (Health Canada) The Consumer and Clinical Radiation Protection Bureau is a bureau in Health Canada whose core mandate is to assess, monitor, and assist in the reduction of the health and safety risks associated with different types of radiation (X-rays, ultrasound, radiowaves, microwaves, noise, ultraviolet light, lasers) emitted from radiation-emitting devices or other sources (Health Canada 2004). It carries out its overall protection role under the provisions of the Radiation Emitting Devices (RED) Act, the Canada Labour Code, the Food and Drugs Act, Treasury Board Standards, and other related government undertakings. Located within the Healthy Environments and Consumer Safety Branch, the bureau in turn comprises several smaller divisions: Acoustics, Electromagnetics, Radiobiology, Medical X-Ray and Mammography, Lasers and Electro-Optics, and X-Ray Inspections and NonMedical X-Rays. These divisions produce numerous standards and guidelines for any number of individuals (employees, patients, health professionals) using or subject to the use of these radiation-emitting devices. For example, the Acoustics Division provides and implements standards for protection against occupational and environmental noise, developed largely through the use of its state-of-the-art acoustics chamber. The Electromagnetics Division sets regulations for the safe use of microwave ovens and enforces their compliance. This core task involves investigating and monitoring external research on the biological effects of electromagnetic fields. The Radiobiology Division focuses on evaluating and managing the risks of radiation on human health by investigating the biological effects of exposures to internal and external sources of radiation. The other divisions of the bureau similarly have their core tasks. Located in Ottawa, the bureau has a staff of thirty-six, including some research scientists and considerable technical support personnel. Its RSA roles – including monitoring – predominate, although compared to the WSC it performs more varied regulatory science tasks, including direct regulation, guideline writing, public outreach, and compliance testing. It does little product approval regulation, given that most radiation-emitting devices are imported into Canada, but it has to be up to date and aware of how devices are made and used and are being changed by new technologies. Moreover, the RED Act deals with the importation, sale, use, and resale of such devices. The

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bureau’s capacity to do its work depends heavily on links and partnerships with the provinces at thousands of health facility sites and other places of work where devices are used. The bureau’s safety codes and standards are referenced and used in provincial legislation and in regulations regarding occupational health and safety and other related health matters. The Federal–Provincial–Territorial Radiation Protection Committee meets annually for a week to coordinate issues and to take into account new health and technological developments. The Veterinary Drugs Directorate (Health Canada) The Veterinary Drugs Directorate (VDD) is a new directorate in Health Canada. Established in 2001, it is part of the Health Products and Food Branch of Health Canada. It was a bureau within the Food Directorate prior to becoming a directorate itself in 2001. The directorate’s mandate is to ensure ‘the safety of food such as milk, meat, eggs, fish, and honey from animals treated with veterinary drugs ... [and] also ensure that veterinary drugs sold in Canada are safe and effective for animals’ (Veterinary Drugs Directorate 2004, 3). Functioning under the Canadian Food and Drugs Act and Regulations, the agency assesses and approves veterinary drugs that manufacturers submit for possible sale in Canada. It also establishes the maximum residue limits for veterinary drugs used in food-producing animals. Manufacturers are required to submit data to ‘demonstrate/establish the safety of any residues in food from treated animals, as well as the safety and efficacy of the products for the treated animals’ (ibid., 5). Compared to the first two case study agencies, the VDD’s RSA activities are geared more to regulatory product approvals than to monitoring. Thus the directorate is extensively involved in evaluating industry submissions and in establishing MRLs. However, its RSA activities also involve monitoring through its pharmaco-vigilance program, as well as related activities including health risk assessments (HRAs), research and surveillance, science-based policy and regulatory development, issues management, international cooperation/harmonization, and public involvement and outreach. The directorate provides HRAs at the request of the Canadian Food Inspection Agency (CFIA) when violative residues are found in food derived from animals. The CFIA then undertakes the appropriate compliance measures. The growing international role is centred on the Veterinary International Cooperation on Harmonization of Technical Requirements for the

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Registration of Veterinary Medical Products (VICH), a trilateral (EU– Japan–US) program. The directorate leads Canada’s ‘observer’ role in the VICH process, it also heads Canada’s delegation to the Codex Committee on Residues of Veterinary Drugs in Food (ibid., 8). Based in Ottawa, the directorate has a multidisciplinary staff of about eighty, of whom about fifty are engaged in RSA. Its budgetary allocations are approximately 80 per cent for RSA and 20 per cent for R&D. The research is purchased from other Health Canada and university research centres. The directorate’s policy and regulatory development roles are based on evidence-based decision making and on a ‘smart regulation’ approach ‘which emphasizes appropriate instrument choice in order to protect Canadians, the public interest, and enable innovation’ (ibid., 7). It is anchored within Health Canada’s Decision Making Framework for risk assessment and risk management (Health Canada 2003). The New Substances Branch (Environment Canada) The New Substances Branch (NSB) of Environment Canada coadministers, with Health Canada, the new substances provisions of the Canadian Environmental Protection Act (CEPA), including the New Substances Notification Regulations (NSNR). The CEPA legislation was originally promulgated in 1988, it was replaced by the amended CEPA 1999. It has always had provisions whose key purpose is to ensure that ‘no new substance is imported into or manufactured in Canada without a formal review, prior to market introduction, of its potential risks to human health and to the environment’ (Health Canada and Environment Canada 2002, 3). New substances include chemicals, polymers, biochemicals, and biopolymers, as well as animate products of biotechnology. Our description of the branch in this chapter refers only to Environment Canada’s role, but in all of our discussion it must be kept firmly in mind that the program depends on Health Canada’s RSA capacity as well. The CEPA legislative provisions referred to above prohibit the import or manufacture of new substances unless importers and manufacturers notify Environment Canada in accordance with the requirements of the New Substances Notification Regulations. The notification information ‘typically includes test data relating to physicochemical properties, environmental fate and behaviour and/or toxicity’ (ibid.). Crucial to the regime is the determination of what is

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new and therefore subject to notification requirements. CEPA legislation relies on the Domestic Substances List: if a substance is not present on this list, then it is considered new. There are other factors at play in determining the need to notify, including whether importation/manufacture quantities equal or exceed prescribed regulatory triggers or comply with stated exemptions and exclusions in CEPA 1999. Substances that do not require notification include those listed on the Domestic Substances List, substances regulated by other federal acts that appear in CEPA schedules, and substances meeting a number of other tests or characteristics. There is also a Non-Domestic Substances List, which is a compilation of substances other than animate products of biotechnology that are not on the Domestic Substances List but that are believed to be in international commerce. These are still subject to notification, but the information requirements are reduced because of past American experience. The American list was chosen as the basis for determining whether the substances were in use in international commerce because that country has had a notification regime in place since the late 1970s and therefore could be a source of expertise. Notifiers are responsible for providing the information packages and any associated costs. The New Substances Program costs are mainly taxpayer funded through the budgets of Environment Canada and Health Canada, but also through a lesser contribution through fees prescribed under the New Substances Fee Regulations. The assessment process is a joint one with Health Canada and must be completed within five to ninety days depending on the extent of introduction into Canadian commerce. The process results in either a determination that the substance is not suspected of being ‘toxic’ or capable of becoming ‘toxic’; in a suspicion that the substance is ‘toxic’ or capable of becoming ‘toxic’; or in a suspicion that a significant new activity may result in the substance becoming toxic if there is adequate information available to assess it. If the substance is suspected of being toxic, then the risk may be managed through measures relating to importation and manufacture, through outright prohibition, or through a prohibition pending submission and assessment of additional information. There are also post-notification responsibilities imposed on notifiers, relating to (for example) correction of information, notices of excess quantity, and submission of any new information available to the notifier that reasonably supports the conclusion that the substance is toxic or is capable of becoming toxic. It must be stressed, therefore, that the branch does not ‘approve’

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substances. It cannot formally be described as a pre-market approval agency like the VDD can. It can, however, be called a pre-market regulator. It also carries out some post-market monitoring and compliance activities because of the post-notification features of the CEPA. The New Substances Branch consists of several divisions for the various risk assessment and regulatory compliance phases involved. These divisions provide strategic planning and program coordination; the processing of notifications and risk management measures, delivery of client services; new chemicals evaluation; and biotechnology evaluation and policy development. Of the branch’s forty-five professional staff, half are engaged in RSA and the other half on other regulatory/ policy work. The branch receives more than eight hundred submissions per year, about twenty of which result in some form of risk management measures. Mapping Related Science Activities: A Closer Look at Key Issues and Elements The above initial profiles of the mandates and core tasks of the four case study agencies provide us only with an agency/institutional context to look at RSA work. We now need to look more closely and analytically at RSA issues and elements by comparing the agencies in relation to the five categories of issues and features set out in the introduction to this chapter. Core Decision and/or Risk Assessment and Management Cycles and Volumes Regarding the nature of RSA, we must begin by appreciating the core cycles of decision making and risk assessment/management and the volume of activity inherent in those cycles. The very notion of cycles or rhythms of business for the case study agencies is bound to be inexact. It is probably a clearer concept for the two agencies with pre-market product/substance regulatory roles. In these, the nature of the RSA emerges in that RSA staff interact mainly with firms and their S&T staff as applications and data are submitted for assessment. RSA staff draw on their own knowledge and training and also seek out research and related studies to make decisions and judgments about the product, substance, or activity in question. For the two agencies that are RSA practitioners of monitoring, notions

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of cycles of decision making are less easy for the outsider to detect. There are certainly notions of regularity in monitoring to obtain consistent data, but there are also more complex types of behaviour, such as answering queries from the public and dealing with clientele and service users, which can easily include other governments, employees/ workers, community groups, and site-specific towns and cities. The Water Survey of Canada and the Consumer and Clinical Radiation Protection Bureau, as monitoring RSA bodies, exhibit the more seamless or embedded nature of decision cycles. The WSA seeks and practises a sustainable-monitoring approach and attempts to operate in relation to the six elements of its business framework. Its monitoring activities involve its RSA staff in regionally deployed and site-specific offices and many remote locations. But new technologies and the demands of clients/users are also requiring the agency to monitor away from sites. While the agency monitors water levels and flows – that is, the quantity of water – pressures are growing relating to concerns and needs regarding the quality of water. This agency’s core business framework also seeks to ensure that RSA and capacities are up to date in the sense of possessing the right kinds of new computer and information technologies and the ability to deliver data and information to many different kinds of users. The CCRPB’s cycles are also harder to pin down than those of the pre-market approval RSA bodies. This agency brings science ‘off the bench’ to the public domain in various ways. It is, after all, a consumer and a clinical radiation protection body. The notion of ‘off the bench’ can mean acquiring and using information from many published research sources and professional contacts/networks, but such data can also come from the acquired knowledge, education, and training of the agency’s staff. The bureau obtains access to research about the many radiation and related devices it must monitor and their effects on target populations. Its RSA is brought to bear to draft and develop information documents and guidelines for various clientele groups, populations, and users. It also needs and uses RSA to obtain feedback from its inspection system that can be tied back to research that it partly does itself or that other bodies and institutions do. The bureau’s cycles and rhythms of monitoring also vary among the different technologies and product lines of its divisions (such as acoustics and electromagnetics). The NSB and the VDD have clearer notions of cycles and volumes, but the different nature of the products each regulates makes for some

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differences in how they must think about their main cycles of business. It is also important to note that though we have cast them in our broader pre-market approval and assessment category for selecting them as case studies in the first place, these agencies have some postmarket or other monitoring tasks to perform as well. Also, when firms and product or substance approvals are involved, there is the inevitable ticking of the regulatory clock. This means that these agencies’ RSA must be brought to bear in an expeditious manner, with time limits specified for decisions. The NSB has a high-volume business to contend with – about eight hundred submissions per year in the main chemicals assessment process, although considerably fewer (ten to twelve) for biotechnology substances. It broadly functions under Environment Canada’s framework for environmental risk assessment and management, and its volume of assessments must be coordinated with Health Canada, whose RSA personnel look at the health effects of new substances. Like all pre-market regulators, its staff must also apply its RSA in the context of rules regarding the protection of a firm’s proprietary interests. Thus, in its assessment and regulation activities, it cannot reveal information or data that might publicly disclose such interests. The VDD’s notion of core cycles for RSA practice is somewhat less straightforward than that of the NSB. The notion of volume is somewhat more varied because an approval can involve a change of dose, the addition of a new species, or a new veterinary drug. Truly novel veterinary drugs are quite rare. As was mentioned in our initial profile, the agency conducts its assessment work in the context of Health Canada’s decision-making framework for risk assessment and management. But the directorate also has a growing role in post-market monitoring under the concepts and processes of pharmaco-vigilance. For this aspect of its work, its RSA involves elaborate networks of information and reporting from numerous groups and individuals, including farmers, veterinarians, doctors, and milk, poultry, and other food producers. Overall, the agency’s RSA work is brought to bear in risk assessment, in devising risk management options and decisions, in labelling, in setting residue limits in food, and in suggesting nonregulatory options and approaches. The Nature of External RSA or R&D Partnerships and Dependencies In our discussion of core cycles, it is almost impossible not to discuss

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RSA in relation to an agency’s external (non-agency) RSA or R&D relations, partnerships, and dependencies. This is where our reference to service triads in chapter 1 becomes important in understanding RSA from a realistic, ‘bottom-up’ perspective – that is, from the agency’s point of view – rather than the top-down definitional views of R&D and RSA. When thought of, as it often should be, as ‘regulatory and monitoring science,’ RSA is almost always relational and networked. RSA relies on or is embedded in the brains, education, training, and experience of scientific and technical staff, but these people must constantly reach out on a daily basis to other people and sources of R&D, to other people’s RSA, and to other kinds of organized knowledge. We saw this in the previous section: the two pre-market regulatory agencies have primary relations with the R&D and technical staff of applicant companies. But it is equally true that these other sites and sources also need and relate to the RSA of the agencies’ frontline staff. Beyond these core relations, which are at the heart of RSA in action, the four case agencies exhibit a wide range of partnered relations and dependencies to address the day-to-day needs of regulatory science and monitoring activity. The WCC calls on, and has links with, other members of the Canadian Water Resources Association, an organization that includes most of the professional community involved in hydrological activities in the consulting industry and in other governments and firms needing survey data. The agency’s staff also work with and draw on links with the National Research Council (NRC), the Department of Fisheries and Oceans, Environment Canada’s National Water Research Institute at Burlington, and provinces such as Quebec. All of these have active core expertise and related experience. It also interacts with American RSA and R&D experts, through groups such as the United States Geological Survey (with which it has signed a formal Memorandum of Understanding) and with the International Joint Commission, the joint Canada–US body that manages Great Lakes and other cross-border water resource issues. The other monitoring-style RSA case study agency, the CCRPB, also works through and with a wide range of sources and sites of relevant complementary knowledge. It has always had to work with manufacturers and distributors of devices, even though it does not approve products in any pre-market sense. It often faces situations that arise from the fact that many devices are not made in total and then sold; rather, the component parts are shipped and the device is then assembled at the site where it is to be used. Thus in some situations the man-

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ufacturers and distributors quite literally do not know as much about their own products as they used to. As we have already seen, the bureau also works closely with a provincial advisory body, and it also has numerous daily contacts with the medical profession, radiologist professionals, and X-ray technicians. Its university network includes researchers at the University of Ottawa. Internationally, there are ever increasing needs to draw on the research, meetings, and contacts of the World Health Organization (WHO). The two ‘pre-market’ agencies also have links with external RSA and R&D sources beyond their core dealings with experts in the applicant firms. The VDD engages regularly with its core stakeholders to stay updated on various risk situations and practices. It works with the veterinary colleges, which are of course educating new veterinarians and are also engaged in updating professional practices. In its recent work on antimicrobial resistance (AMR), for which new risk management strategies against a serious health threat must be developed, the directorate worked through a multistakeholder advisory committee, which reviewed national and international scientific reports on AMR (Health Canada 2002). It also built its AMR evidence base through collaboration with the Health Canada National Microbiology Laboratory in Winnipeg, the Canadian Institutes of Health Research, the provinces and territories, and a formal Canadian Committee on Antibiotic Resistance. Internationally, the directorate – on the AMR issue and more generally – is closely tied in with the work of the CODEX Committee on Residues of Veterinary Drugs in Food, the WHO, and other international regulatory agencies. To develop a common understanding of AMR from Canadian perspectives, the directorate worked closely with Health Canada’s AMR Advisory Committee, which presented its final report following its indepth review of national and international reports on AMR (ibid.). The directorate is also building the evidence base for risk-management decision making through ongoing collaboration with the Canadian Integrated Program for Antimicrobial Resistance Surveillance; it is also supporting research activities in Health Canada’s laboratories. The NSB also has key RSA and R&D links with many players beyond the boundaries of its own organization. Its links to the U.S. EPA are almost daily. A growing issue in the field of new substances is the EPA’s promotion of modelling approaches as a complement and alternative to direct scientific data as evidence. Designed to support the regulatory process, modelling not only raises key concerns about

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efficacy and certainty but also places potential new demands on the training and equipment needed for RSA personnel (see below). Domestically, of course, the NSB has links with other parts of Environment Canada, Health Canada, and some universities with relevant research expertise. Given its core relationship with applicant firms, it also holds regular meetings with core stakeholder groups in the chemical and increasingly the biotechnology industries. RSA Personnel Backgrounds and Competences The third aspect of RSA that warrants illustrative comment is the core backgrounds of RSA personnel and the changing competences they require in order to meet their changing regulatory and monitoring challenges. RSA is not just research-related activity. It is also something that depends heavily on the brain power and experience of frontline assessors and monitoring personnel. They must bring their knowledge and skills to bear, and they must also have capacities to obtain other kinds of research and information. For the NSB, core RSA expertise centres on staff with backgrounds in chemistry, biology, and engineering. But increasingly, this expertise must also involve more detailed regulatory knowledge of particular classes of compounds. Requirements are also growing for computerbased modelling skills and competences. It is often difficult for the branch to find the particular expertise it needs, in part because universities and colleges do not necessarily produce regulatory scientists ‘ready made,’ in part because experience and training must be acquired on the job, and in part because government salaries may not be competitive. In the branch’s biotechnology mandate, the core competences are more complex, as is the information and analysis the assessor must interpret. Accordingly, in this growing realm, RSA expertise is becoming harder to attract and retain, given fast-moving R&D changes and opportunities in the private sector. In the VDD, the core RSA staff come with backgrounds in chemistry, biology, and veterinary medicine. The directorate has grown quickly, from thirty to eighty staff in the past three years, and it continues to attract qualified people. The agency is relatively new, and so are its staff, and as a consequence, it has been able to forge its own culture, consistent with its new mandate, instead of being bound by a long history of past practices. The CCRPB has a considerably smaller staff complement than the

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other units being examined, and must monitor and develop guidelines for quite diverse kinds of products/devices. Accordingly, its core competences are more varied. Its staff have backgrounds in radiation biology, electrical engineering, and medical physics. It also needs people who are skilled at technical inspection. Its inspectorate staff have had to change from an era of ‘clipboards and ticks on a chart’ to one in which they must be more analytical. The need for IT capacities is also crucial for almost all RSA jobs. For years, the bureau has also had to acquire people who can deal with new devices, such as cell phones, as they come onto the market. The staff must also deal with controversial issues such as the health impact of radio-frequency towers, the various uses and effects of ultrasound technology, and the effects of acoustical noise on the quality of life (as opposed to health per se). The WSC’s core RSA competences centre on engineers, who are augmented by considerable staff with technical backgrounds for fieldwork. The agency has gone through a cycle of personnel development: it started with core engineering backgrounds, added technical capacity, lost some core engineering as a result of budget cuts in the mid-1990s and then retirements, and since has begun building back more core engineering capacity. This agency has enjoyed considerable staff continuity: its RSA staff tend to stay for their whole careers. Numerous training programs have been needed to keep staff up to date as new computer technologies are employed, and as user groups demand more real-time and varied water data. Also, RSA staff face physical risks in fieldwork – as noted earlier, two recently died on the job. This agency has had to develop new technologies for monitoring that are safer in terms of occupational health and safety. RSA Equipment/Capital Funding and Challenges RSA clearly requires competent people, but it also requires up-to-date equipment so that core tasks can be carried out successfully, whether it be in pre-market approvals or in post-market or other general monitoring. RSA typically does not occur in agencies that are ‘laboratories’ in a bench science sense, although the bureau’s acoustics testing facility is a partial exception to this. But as we have seen in earlier sections, agencies do need access to more capital-intensive laboratory facilities either in other parts of their home department, in the federal government as a whole, or outside in academic or private research establishments. As previous chapters have shown, these larger labs in the federal govern-

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ment have been subject to quite serious problems of ‘rust-out’: owing to budget cuts in the mid-1990s, aging equipment has not been replaced or modernized. The effects of this still resonate a decade after those cuts. Since about 1997, the largest portion by far of S&T federal funding increases has gone to universities. These increases have included capital funding through the Canada Foundation for Innovation (CFI), which federal S&T bodies are ineligible to take part in. Our four case study agencies do have other capital and equipment needs, and their experience in getting funding for these needs has varied in recent years. These are basically small-scale and not necessarily bigbudget needs, but they are nonetheless crucial to their performance. The analysis does not go into this question in any detail, but some observations can be made across the four agencies. The CCRPB used to have an explicit capital replacement program, but this no longer exists. Accordingly, for some of its monitoring functions, it has had considerable experience in getting by with quite old equipment. Each year it encounters a struggle to persuade departmental authorities to provide the funding. Its core acoustic lab, however, has tended to be backed with proper funding; thus, experience varies across even a smallish agency such as the bureau. The other monitoring-focused RSA agency, the WSC, has also had capital and equipment needs. We have already seen this in our earlier discussion of its need to massively computerize its monitoring operations and field equipment as well as its data retrieval and data provision services. Recent budgets have begun to address these problems but there is still a considerable distance to go. The agency’s staff emphasize, however, that the agency’s needs are never just financial. Needs also centre technically on exactly what kind of data can be acquired and used. For the two pre-market agencies, there are again varied situations regarding capital equipment. The VDD seems to have few concerns about this issue. It has sought and obtained core funds, but it uses its funds largely to resource R&D from other Health Canada and federal labs. This may simply be another byproduct of the fact that the directorate has almost tripled its staff and been quite well supported overall as the federal government seeks to show, both nationally and internationally, that it is dealing properly with the global controversies of animal health as well as food chain health and safety links. As with other agencies, it faces ongoing needs to upgrade its core IT equipment as technologies change and improve.

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The NSB’s main equipment and capital needs focus more on software – specifically, on developing greater modelling capacity to assess substances and for information management and exchange. With the latter, the NSB also experiences significant difficulties in sharing information between the two departments that would help it implement its core mandate efficiently. This is a challenge, because solutions are constrained by broader the IT policies and services of the departments. Other Dynamics Affecting RSA Agencies The above four issues and aspects of RSA in the case study agencies represent important features for understanding RSA as it occurs in complex organizational and institutional settings. In this final section we refer to some other dynamics that affect RSA; some of these are unique to a given agency (and do not easily fit the first four analytical categories), and some reflect the broader dynamics of the two parent departments, Environment Canada and Health Canada, or the state of support for government science as a whole. It is difficult to determine what is unique to each agency. In the authors’ interviews with agency staff, the respondents cited unusual or impending challenges to the agency at hand. For example, the NSB drew considerable attention to the pressures it was facing to use software modelling (as opposed to animal or other direct tests and data) as a way to assess toxic or other effects. The CCRPB faces interesting challenges from the additional use of ultrasound by private firms that are offering new forms of family memorabilia based on ultrasound images of a child in the womb. These images are obtained in ways that may subject both mother and child to longer than normal ultrasound exposure. The WCC interviews tended to bring out the degree to which the survey and monitoring work is geographically dispersed and remote, and also the new challenges of work at existing sites but also increasingly away from these core sites. The VDD interviews brought out the positive impacts that were arising from the fact that it had recently become a directorate rather than merely a bureau. Also, in the fall of 2000 it received a significant political impetus for new resources and a new organization after a quite critical European Union audit of the Canadian system of veterinary drugs was made public and garnered significant media attention. This latter example points to a broader dynamic that we can only take note of but that is often quite important for agencies. Some factors

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can trigger budgetary and political support or produce new political lenses though which such issues can be viewed. The VDD profited from a public controversy in that new resources were sent its way both from Health Canada and from the central agencies. Similarly, the WCC was indirectly affected by the Walkerton Inquiry into drinking water in Ontario. New attention was brought to the issue of water quality, and this was linked to the issue of water flows. In direct response to the issue, the Ontario government has recently approved funding to expand the water quantity network. Overall, the four agencies must be seen in the context of the larger set of sister agencies in their parent departments, all of which are competing for scarce resources and all of which are seeking attention and support ‘up the line.’ This chapter cannot deal with these dynamics in detail. But it is certainly the case that they play a role in the perceptions of agency RSA staff regarding whether RSA activities are generally appreciated or understood by those further up the departmental hierarchy. Within the four agencies there is certainly a high degree of scepticism as to whether RSA is properly understood and whether there is sufficient political and budgetary support and recognition for RSA as an increasingly crucial aspect of federal S&T. The five issues and elements explored across the four case study agencies are only initial samplings of what RSA actually involves. But they do provide a closer look at RSA through a brief analysis of decision cycles, core relationships, RSA personnel capacities and needs, and technological features and funding issues. Conclusions This chapter has examined the nature and role of RSA in federal S&T policy through four illustrative agency case studies. RSA receives half the federal government’s intramural S&T funding, yet it represents more than half its S&T personnel. For Health Canada and Environment Canada – the home departments of our four agencies – RSA is of the order of 75 per cent of the S&T. Yet in terms of official federal definitions RSA seems at times to be a residual S&T category, not research and not development but somehow still involving science. Moreover, the designation RSA does not make clear what it is and what it is related to, nor does it suggest that it is the form of S&T most crucial to public-interest monitoring and regulation. The chapter shows overall that RSA is vital to public-interest moni-

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toring and regulation. Far from being an afterthought or something that is simply ‘not R&D,’ RSA is the very core of government S&T necessary to enable the state to regulate and monitor and manage risks in the public interest. In pure definitional terms, the current definition of RSA is misleading in conveying what is actually involved. The four case agencies illustrate more clearly what RSA includes. The complex set of service-oriented and regulatory tasks emerges quite clearly. As we have seen, RSA involves: the direct assessment of product proposals and applications, the enforcement of rules, and the drafting of guideline documents for any number of Canadian client groups and users of products. RSA involves the post-market monitoring of products once they are on the market; the monitoring of activities, volumes, and impacts of environmental and health hazards and risks at numerous discrete sites and locations, many remote and dangerous; the tendering of advice to professional groups; and the exchange of knowledge and information with international bodies and fellow RSA practitioners in other countries and jurisdictions. The analysis has shown that the four agencies vary as to the mix of pre-market regulatory and monitoring tasks and mandates they must carry out and the varied decision volumes they must manage. Regulation involves both the enforcement and the sanctioning authority and power of the state, but it also involves numerous service relationships. The varied RSA tasks need to be cast in ways similar to the manner in which services and service relationships and innovation are being viewed in the private knowledge-based economy – namely, as varied triads of service relations that include the service provider, the service client, and the service medium. The agencies surveyed operate very much in this kind of complex relational world, with RSA emerging out of the education, training, knowledge, and experience of frontline assessors and monitoring personnel, but also out of agencies’ overall ability to obtain timely R&D inputs and other kinds of knowledge from many sources, national, provincial, and international. RSA also depends on capital equipment and on technologies that are constantly changing. We conclude that the federal government is certainly not internally unaware of the importance of RSA; indeed, on a yearly basis it makes more and more legal and policy–regulatory commitments requiring more of it. But in public debates, in funding decisions, and in its core publications about federal S&T and innovation policies, the federal government basically obscures RSA and deliberately and seriously

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underplays it. RSA is simply not central to its broader S&T and innovation policy story line, which overwhelmingly favours academic and private-sector S&T and innovation rather than the S&T required to underpin the public interest monitoring and regulatory tasks that government must carry out.

8 Conclusions

This book has examined strategic science in the public interest by analysing federal S&T labs and agencies. We have explored an array of contemporary federal S&T labs and agencies whose mandates encompass government science in support of a range of public-interest and public-policy and regulatory realms, including wildlife, the Alberta oil sands, environmental technologies, the mining and mineral sector, chemical substances, veterinary drugs, consumer and clinical radiation, and water quality and monitoring. These organizations are a small subset of overall federal government science. They are important to Canadians, but they also often function well below the radar of most Canadians and also often of their politicians. Though it examines many key strategic choices and challenges in the context of S&T policy and innovation, this book also deals inherently with a larger set of issues regarding the role of government versus markets and hence the provision of public versus private goods. Anchored in a basic public policy and neo-institutional disciplinary context, we have examined how labs have seen themselves and also how they and others have sought to change and reshape them. Looking broadly over a twenty-year period of change and evolution and with reference to earlier developments, we have sought to shine a more focused analytical light on an area of government science that has not been analysed in an integrated way. We have not attempted to evaluate S&T lab performance or technical issues per se, although we have dealt with evolving debates about how such labs might or should be strategically positioned and evaluated in complex political, technical, and economic settings. By ‘government science’ overall, we have referred to all of the ways

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in which the state funds, supports, regulates, and conducts S&T activities. Our book has not examined this larger enterprise per se, but it has located our subject, S&T labs, within its broad evolution. The analysis has shown that S&T in the Government of Canada has been historically important for the development of Canada, economically, socially, and politically. It has also shown that in the last years of the twentieth century and the early years of the twenty-first, federal government S&T entered a period of criticism and of both benign and designed neglect. This happened as new ideas and frameworks for assessing the value of government S&T took hold. Thus, from an early emphasis on nation building and science in support of public goods, the rationale for government S&T has increasingly shifted to the promotion of innovation and commercialization. This book has shown that the longer-term thrust of federal S&T policy since the mid-1960s has been to get more of Canada’s R&D paid for and performed by the private sector. This is because when federal science policies were first seriously debated in the mid-1960s, the federal government was the main funder and performer of R&D and industry’s role was the smaller one as a percentage of GDP. These figures were the polar opposite of the situation in most of Canada’s main competitor OECD countries. As we have seen, change had to occur and did occur. The industrial sector is now this country’s largest funder and performer of R&D. Despite this overall improvement, Canada’s levels of industrial R&D and patenting are still considerably lower than those of other OECD competitor countries. Meanwhile, the recent burst of federal S&T funding since 1997 – most of it in the name of innovation policy – has, as we have seen, gone to universities. Federal labs and S&T agencies have meanwhile not been funded in keeping with their considerably expanded mandates. In short, the federal government has failed to adopt policies and funding plans that support strategic science in the public interest. There is more to federal S&T policy than the innovation agenda, however important the latter undoubtedly is. The analysis has shown that S&T labs and agencies were hit with budget cuts of 30 to 40 per cent under the deficit-slaying apparatus of the mid-1990s program review. After 1997 the federal government, flush with healthy fiscal surpluses, poured more than $13 billion into innovation and S&T; however, the great majority of it went to universities via new institutions such as the Canada Foundation for Innovation (CFI). Government S&T labs were largely ignored in this initial reinvestment process. By 2003 the government R&D sector was again see-

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ing some increases in spending, but these were focused on federal bodies such as the National Research Council (NRC), on new bodies such as Genome Canada, and on Health Canada’s Winnipeg lab after the SARS crisis. Thus most of the core labs in federal science-based departments and agencies continue to face major budget constraints. In the interim, the costs of research and research equipment continue to rise. Meanwhile, these same labs have been required to meet the increasing demands of numerous new policy, regulatory, and monitoring obligations agreed to by the federal government. The greatest pressure over the past decade has been to increase the commercialization roles of federal labs. The other public good role of labs has certainly been studied, mainly with respect to their role in the interface between science and policymaking, but with few accompanying actions regarding increased funding and capacity, including capacity relating to RSA. Some of this imbalance in political attention is due to broad differences among political constituencies. Science policy overall is much more a subject of interest among elites, and science itself does not have a vocal interest group structure the way most other policy fields do, although it does have lobbies via universities and via technology-centred business associations. Government science itself does not have a directly supportive political constituency. NGOs have some interest in science issues, but usually they do not have well-funded or ongoing access to decision makers when their S&T concerns take shape around issues of health, safety, the environment, and sustainable development more generally. Typically, innovation and science policies are not ‘top of the mind’ issues for voters. And voters’ attention to policies related to the government’s S&T roles is at best episodic, typically emerging only in the wake of high-profile S&T-related controversies (such as fish stocks assessments, climate change, and the security of Canada’s water, food, and blood supplies). In this overall configuration of ideas, pressures, and basic political power, government S&T labs and agencies have been in a defensive mode for some time, and relative to key national issues and priorities, they have been institutions that are, for the most part, quite literally ‘out of sight and out of mind.’ Conceptually, we have located our analysis in the context of other recent published work on science and politics or science and government. We have sought to build on this work but also to adapt it to the necessary task of looking more carefully at S&T labs and agencies. This literature includes deductive models such as principal–agent theory and the broad conceptual use of models of hierarchies, networks, and

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markets as institutional forms. It also includes useful analysis of the changing nature of knowledge production and of the nature of sciencebased regulatory and risk regimes. The book’s core five-part policy menu framework for the four R&Dfocused labs is a more inductively derived approach – a middle-level policy framework derived from a closer look at how S&T labs and agencies function and change as institutions as they respond to, implement, interpret, and partly deflect and/or change complex mandates and policy–institutional pressures and signals. The notion of this being a menu of choices and points of emphasis is important. As argued earlier, one might also regard this as simply an issue of overall agenda setting, but the menu metaphor implies that someone else has ‘set the table,’ as it were, and constrained the choices. Institutionally, the S&T labs and agencies are located in the middle or even lower levels of their departmental hierarchical homes, and thus they are much more policy takers than policy makers. But principal–agent relations, asymmetries, and issues of delegation are a constant part of the menu-interpreting and selection processes and dynamics. The Cabinet and the parent department set most of the policies. Many are just added on without replacing earlier preferred areas of policy emphasis. Many are ‘one size fits all’ policies that in very real terms do not fit different lab situations, mandates, and histories, and policies from the centre are not all pushed with the same level of intensity or attention span. And of course, we have been looking at the four main case study labs across a twentyyear period. Our framework does not allow us to examine and fully explain every nuance of change or stability, but it does provide an analytic device that comes close to encompassing the real-world context in which labs function and through which differences among them emerge. We have applied this as an analytical lens mainly in the four case study chapters. Chapter 7 did not employ this approach, although some similar issues did emerge. The cases in that chapter are more illustrative in nature, and in one chapter a different complementary approach was needed. In addition, of course, the labs and agencies, as organizations, have their own leaders and operating cultures and their own needs for operating independence and for achieving some kind of balance between their public good and commercial roles while managing their mix of R&D and RSA tasks. Therefore, empirically, our focus has been on exploring four R&Dfocused case study labs. Clearly, at one level each has a different man-

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date, history, and internal culture and different S&T competences. But in other respects they have faced some common policy and institutional challenges. We have also examined four RSA-focused S&T agencies in a more illustrative fashion to draw out some of the important features regarding the differences between R&D and RSA. This required an analytical understanding of science-based regulatory and risk regimes and their various product approval, post-market monitoring, compliance, and rule-making elements and subsystems. The analysis as a whole has been situated within, and built upon, two streams of academic literature, one centred broadly on the general S&T policy and ‘science and government’ literature, the other in the policy, governance, and institutional literature, including the literature on natural resources and environmental policy. Both literatures helped develop the approach we have adopted, and also helped us examine the labs as complex institutions functioning within a much larger set of federal departments and within a complex government. In this final chapter our conclusions and related overall observations are organized into four sections, which correspond to the themes we set out in the introduction to this book. First, we reiterate why a middle-level approach to analysis is needed for this realm of government science as a complement to other macro approaches and as a basis for better and more realistic policymaking about S&T labs and agencies. Second, we offer conclusions about the variety and the similarity of S&T labs and agencies by looking across the four R&Dfocused S&T labs through the vehicle of the five part policy-menu framework. Third, we offer overall conclusions about the importance of RSA activity as a particularly unique but underplayed feature of government science. Finally, we offer our thoughts about the overall governance and accountability of S&T labs and agencies and the dilemmas involved in making choices about the relative emphasis to be placed on S&T labs’ commercial roles versus their roles as suppliers of public goods. The Need for Complementary Middle-Level Approaches This book’s main academic contribution is that it has made the case for the complementary value of middle-level approaches in the study of government science by examining a broad set of policy values, issues, and challenges in situations where S&T–innovation–commercialization policies and SD and environmental policies are brought to bear on

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the substantive mandates of key government departments such as Natural Resources Canada, Environment Canada, and Health Canada and their varied S&T labs and agencies. We also explored how macro and micro budgetary management policies are brought to bear and how all of these various policy pressures affect and interact with the S&T labs and agencies and their policy-induced linkages with universities, business, other governments, and communities. Chapter 1 looked closely at how government S&T labs and agencies have been conceptualized and studied as institutions. We have situated these labs and agencies in this institutional debate in two ways: first, in the context of basic academic literature on science and government and through an examination of other governmental studies of S&T labs and agencies in Canada; and second, in relation to a further analysis of the contrasting roles of R&D versus RSA in the functioning of S&T labs and related organizations. All of these analytical features have suggested to us the need for a complementary middle-level approach to understanding federal S&T labs as institutions, which we have developed and used in this book. In our analysis of relevant literature on science and politics and on government labs and knowledge production, we have found that while these approaches are valuable in their own terms, they do not easily or fully allow us to understand the variety of real-world government S&T labs and agencies. This is true both for studies that are quite deductive in nature and for more inductive ones. Guston’s analysis, which focuses on a social contract between governments and scientists to meet the dual goals of productivity and integrity, is an important approach centred on principal–agent theory. Also important are other principal–agent approaches that focus even more closely on the nature of delegation in such relations. These insights have informed our approach but have not on their own been enough to capture the reality of federal S&T labs. The analysis in this book has also built on a recent analysis of British labs (Boden et al. 2004), which employs a middle-level framework and is interested in how labs respond to complex policy and institutional imperatives. It focuses on the impacts of the new public management (NPM) on British government labs, but it also relates these changes to changes in knowledge production processes in S&T. It does not examine specific labs in any great depth; rather, it reports on overall impacts, using brief examples where relevant. NPM and issues of knowledge production are certainly a part of our approach in this

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book, but we have sought to extend the middle-level analysis by utilizing a five part policy-menu framework that we think is closer analytically and empirically to the actual underlying situations that labs actually must manage. We have also applied it in some depth to the four R&D-focused case study labs. A further key conceptual building block for this book’s approach has come from the literature on science-based regulatory regimes and related risk regulation regimes and institutions. In both R&D and RSA, government science must serve multiple regulatory institutions and monitoring bodies. Thus, it must traverse and serve complex subsystems within science-based regulatory regimes in Canada and elsewhere. These include middle-level subsystems devoted to product approvals, to post-market monitoring, to compliance activity, and to rule making. This literature has fed into aspects of our understanding of both the R&D-focused labs and the RSA-focused agencies. We have also shown that past Canadian federal studies, while useful as an evolving policy story, have far too great a tendency to take a simple ‘black box’ approach combined with policy prescriptions wedded to a ‘one size fits all’ imperative. Our analysis of the activities of government science has brought out the extent to which the broader RSA story has been underplayed analytically. We have also explored the ways in which RSA, in particular, involves service-like activities and complex interactions and roles in regulatory product approval processes as well as science-based monitoring activities. Variety and Similarity: The Four R&D-Focused S&T Labs The four R&D-focused S&T labs are all similar in size and focus broadly on R&D, but always in the context of a range of other tasks and functions. They are all located deep within their parent departments and are not normally areas of departmental work to which ministers and most senior departmental managers pay constant attention. Indeed, it is often difficult to determine where the boundaries of the lab as an institution start and end relative to those of its parent department (and sometimes even to other parts of the government). The S&T labs’ parent departments are, in turn, only two of thirty-five or so federal departments and hundreds of related boards, commissions, and structures in a large, complex government, and all of these bodies are competing for political and policy attention and resources. When one examines these S&T labs through our approach, the vari-

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eties and differences begin to present themselves almost immediately. There is also variety within any given lab owing to its complex mandate, unique history, and differences in the kinds of research conducted and the scientific disciplines present in its different sections. The variations among labs begin with the actual subject matter and range of S&T in each lab and hence with its core disciplines and competences. At this level, the contrast is strongest between the wildlife biology and ecological focus of the National Wildlife Research Centre and the engineering, production, and demonstration project focus of the CANMET Energy Technology Centre–Devon. The Devon lab also brings out the regional–spatial focus. While it is a federal lab, it focuses sharply on an Alberta oil sands resource. Regional–spatial issues are also a part of the wildlife lab in that research on migratory birds and on biodiversity and endangered species involves a local–spatial–ecosystem presence through a volunteer ‘citizen science’ army of birders and naturalists from across Canada (and abroad). The Environmental Technology Centre (ETC) and the Mining and Mineral Sciences Laboratories (MMSL) involve a somewhat closer pairing than this. But here, too, the research focus and the client focus offer up sharp differences with regard to what they actually do on a day-to-day basis. The ETC focuses on air pollution and maintains a complex network of researchers and monitoring participants as the core of its largely policy- and regulation-oriented community. The MMSL increasingly has had restrict itself to the full cradle-to-grave cycle of mining and mineral developments and their increasingly linked business development and environmental technologies. From here, we can move to concluding observations about what the five-part policy menu framework tells us about the labs and agencies as functioning and changing institutions. Each of the chapters has provided observations about the framework elements of particular interest to that lab. Common to all of the labs was the need, through time, to respond to, be subject to, and interpret at least three of the elements of the framework. Thus, S&T–innovation–commercialization, sustainable development and environmental policies, and macro and micro budgetary management policies were all government-wide policy elements that S&T labs and agencies had to deal with. Even the element of key linkages, along with the pressure and need to develop such linkages, increased over the period covered; this was a part of expected performance. Only parent department mandates and contexts were initially

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not a common element for the four labs, but even here, cross-over pressures did occur, as we explore further below. In light of these mainly common requirements, we can now look more comparatively at each element of the framework. The S&T–innovation–commercialization policy element exhibits quite a varied picture of responses and interpretations. Overall, the agencies were more than aware of the broad shifts in policy emphasis and intent, from S&T to innovation to commercialization, but the nature of the impacts and interpretations reflected the labs’ individual or sectoral situations and choices. For example, both NRCan labs – the MMSL and the Devon lab – received a requirement for revenue targets in the late 1980s, with the expectation that evidence of such revenue would strongly indicate that the lab was paying closer attention to its innovation and commercialization functions. On the other hand, the two Environment Canada labs gave primacy to their environmental protection and conservation mandates and related internal senses of purpose. For the ETC, as we have seen, this meant a focus on R&D for environmental protection but also a secondary innovation goal of fostering environmental industries. In addition, with its relationship with SAIC Canada, the ETC serves as an example of outright privatization of some operations. In contrast, the wildlife lab took a strong stance on keeping its public good research role and on banishing commercial issues from its agenda. With regard to sustainable development and environmental policies, it is clear that all four labs had to respond to these different policy dictates and paradigms and that all of them suffered to some extent from the ‘here today, gone tomorrow’ pattern of funding in the name of these policies. Thus, Green Plan funds came and went and other green funding involved navigating through specific program funds with varying purposes and eligibility requirements. More fundamentally, however, the labs (in concert with their parent departments) had to differentiate their roles in SD on the one hand (defined mainly as the ‘triple bottom line’) and environmental clean-up policies on the other. Only the wildlife lab, with its strong conservationist ethic, could come close to supporting SD cast as ecological sustainability. The other labs, but especially the two NRCan labs, were dealing with non-renewable resources such as mining and oil; it follows that for them, any deeper ecological notions of SD were simply incompatible. Nonetheless, both these labs could rightly claim that their R&D had contributed to some

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environmental clean-up improvements through client-focused R&D and technological innovations and hence to ‘triple-bottom line’ notions of SD. Not surprisingly, the parent department mandate element of the framework showed some key differences between the two pairs of labs. The two NRCan labs are housed in a department whose mandate has historically been to support key resource industries. The basic traditions of the two labs picked up on these signals, and each in its own way saw itself as a source of support for industry. This was strongest in the case of the Devon lab, where the focus is on developing the oil sands, which are seen increasingly as a national prize and also as an ever larger contributor to Canada’s domestic oil supply. Moreover, the broad thrust of NRCan and federal energy policy had been very promarket oriented under the Mulroney and Chrétien governments. For the MMSL, the underlying dynamic (see chapter 3) reflected a radically transformed Canadian mining and metals industry now investing heavily in newly opened markets abroad. However, during this period overall, NRCan as a department was itself being transformed, from simply a department for the industries within its mandate to more of a ‘socio-economic’ department of this sector. The main manifestation of this came via the SD and environmental mandates or policies that the department had to take into account. Changes were also a result of (a) the department’s greater and more overt emphasis on its key role in single-industry towns in Canada’s remote areas and (b) on its role vis-à-vis Aboriginal people in and near these resource-producing communities, who were themselves interested in SD issues as well as in local employment and longterm economic survival. For the two Environment Canada labs, the departmental mandate and contexts were different but were also evolving throughout the entire twenty-year period. Both the ETC and the wildlife lab functioned within an department whose mandates were expanding due to new or modified statutes and international treaties and agreements. But the ETC functioned within the protection side of the department, whereas the wildlife lab worked within the Canadian Wildlife Service and the conservation side. The latter, therefore, played not only regulatory roles but also extensive RSA-centred monitoring roles. These differences mattered even though they flowed from the same parent department. Environment Canada was itself changing across the entire period.

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NRCan was evolving from an economic department into a socioeconomic department; for Environment Canada the shift was the reverse. It had always been a socio-environmental department, but now it had to become a more economic department in the sense of a department geared towards integrating environmental and economic concerns. The best example here is the environmental industry focus of the ETC. Neither of these shifts has been smooth, nor has either necessarily reached some kind of new equilibrium. The primordial instincts of the two departmental mandates are still very much present, but shifts are discernible and have been partly reflected in the evolution of their S&T labs and agencies. Also of some final interest regarding departmental mandates and structure is the changing nature of how centralized or decentralized the S&T function overall is within the parent department. We have shown, for example, that NRCan’s labs were at one time part of a centralized assistant deputy minister for science but were split up (in 1994) so that labs would be located within the key sectoral mandate realms of energy, mining, and forestry. This was done to bring S&T closer to the policy people involved in these three realms. In contrast, as this book was being completed, Environment Canada was moving in the opposite direction: its previously decentralized labs tied, as we have seen, to the protection versus conservation mandates and business lines are now to be governed within Environment Canada by an assistant deputy minister for science and research. The possible reasons for such a change are numerous. They could range from a simple desire by the department’s leadership to have more control or what looks like more control. Or it could be that a view has emerged within Environment Canada that more of its S&T lab work must serve and be made to serve department and government-wide environmental and SD mandates. Dealing with macro and micro budgetary management policies was also a necessity for all four labs. Each was subject to the requirements of program review and subsequent budget cuts in the mid-1990s; and each might possibly have benefited from the budgetary surpluses of the 1997 to 2005 period. They each had to deal with the strictures of the complex personnel system of the federal public service and the impacts of both rust-out in lab equipment and facilities and the aging of research staff. But on both the downsides and the upsides of this budgetary management policy dimension, responses and impacts were different, as were the labs’ choices.

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Program review budgetary cuts were deeply harmful overall. They ranged from 60 per cent in one part of the Devon lab to about 20 per cent in the wildlife lab. Personnel cuts exhibited a similar range. As we saw in the case study chapters, the ETC sought to preserve its core staff and cut very few of them, and so cut budgets much more deeply. On the upside of budget surpluses, the S&T labs as a whole were not eligible for the bulk of these new funds because federal policy was geared overwhelmingly towards supporting S&T outside of government in the business and university sectors. Indeed, as we saw in chapter 2, most of the new resources went to university research. Nonetheless, there were some particular funds – especially on the environment and climate change side – that labs could access directly or indirectly. Some labs were able to enhance their own revenue generation through these funds and through related partnership income from firms interested in using the labs for targeted commercial projects. The policy-induced linkages element of our cross-lab and agency analysis showed the various ways in which the labs interacted with universities, business, other governments, and communities. As NRCan labs, the Devon lab and the MMSL had the strongest historical and contemporary focus on business clientele and on the innovation– commercialization mandate. Mulroney-era policies on revenue targets propelled them towards an even greater commercial focus, in situations in both the oil sands and mining sectors where environmental issues were ever more co-mingled with commercial and competitive ones. Both these labs had somewhat stronger university links in their earlier eras, but these were never their dominant linkages, and they have been even less so under the edicts of the commercialization ethos. Also, both these labs have experienced their own versions of how far they can go along a purely commercial mandate path without losing their basic capacity to conduct applied R&D so that they have something to offer (other than equipment) to firms. This reflects a recognition that even applied R&D capacity requires nurturing as public good S&T. The two Environment Canada labs have taken a different path towards fostering their primary external linkages. The wildlife lab’s main linkages have been with universities and with intricate, distributed forms of citizen science. University linkages are bound to increase now that it has relocated to Carleton University, but these links will present serious challenges because of the lab’s role as science advisor to its department in the growing and complex policy realms of endan-

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gered species and biodiversity. This may require a careful negotiation of the boundaries between its government roles, on the one hand, and its university linkages and the demands made on it by university researchers, on the other. The wildlife lab has honestly and properly not even pretended to have commercial roles and aspirations. The challenge, it would seem, is to ensure that it can continue to deliver on its public good science mandate in an era during which commercialization is the dominant mantra. The analysis has shown that the ETC’s strongest linkages have been with its overall policy community and with its network of players involved in monitoring and advising on air pollution. It has few formal links with universities, although it has an important and growing commercial focus in the realm of environmental industries – a sector that in a very direct sense is forming around (and because of) the environmental regulatory state and related pressures on firms to practise and profit from more SD processes. Overall, then, the core linkages for each S&T lab largely flow from the logic of the core lab and departmental mandates. However, relative shifts in emphasis are also induced by some of the new S&T–innovation and environmental funding arrangements and by the pressures, demands, and entrepreneurial zeal of firms and some universities as well. The above concluding discussion, as well as the chapter case studies in more detail, convey some of the value of using the middle-level fivepart policy menu typology. While these are the main components of the approach we have used, it is again important to note that the five categories of the policy menu framework are not watertight. In part this is because the boundaries of the policy fields themselves are broad; indeed, they are themselves often seen as constructively ambiguous such that they can be interpreted in different ways. As the chapter case studies have shown, innovation is obviously a part of innovation policies but is also inherent in many key aspects of SD and budgetary– managerial policies. SD policies are often tied to the need to develop new S&T for new production processes; but they are also often tied to new processes of internal budgeting. The analysis has also shown that budgetary–management policies are often tied to forcing or inducing new innovative alliances and hence new behaviour on the part of agencies and their partners or clients. Problems of interpretation and levels of urgency for the lab also arise out of the simple fact that some policies are government-wide whereas others are more department-

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specific. Some are statutory and some are not. There are therefore problems of delegated choice and interpretation regarding these policy menu components. Such choices and interpretations must be made by the S&T labs and agencies, and must also somehow make sense to the internal realities and capacities of the lab. Related Science Activities and Government Science The book’s analysis of the nature and role of RSA in government science warrants a separate but related set of final observations. The four R&D-focused S&T labs all had some roles in RSA as well. But we have sought to further examine this key aspect of government science primarily through the four illustrative case agencies in chapter 7. Within that subset of four Environment Canada and Health Canada S&T agencies, we looked at two agencies whose roles were more in the regulatory product approval realm and two that operated much more in the realm of ongoing S&T-based monitoring. We stress again that RSA constitutes half the federal government’s S&T work and occupies more than half its S&T personnel. For both Health Canada and Environment Canada, RSA work is of the order of 75 per cent of S&T efforts. Despite this, the analysis has shown how, in terms of official federal definitions, RSA seems far too often to be a residual, leftover category of S&T activity. Moreover, the designation ‘RSA’ is not helpful in presenting the whole story of government science to key audiences, be they government decision makers, S&T advisory bodies, Parliament, or the Canadian public. The implication is that RSA is related to R&D, but this does not highlight that it is the S&T that is crucial to monitoring and regulation in the public interest. Unlike R&D, which is performed in universities and business enterprises as well as in government, RSA is unique to government. Overall, RSA is a critical feature of public interest monitoring and regulation and of government science as a public good. Far from being an afterthought or something that is simply ‘not R&D,’ RSA is in many important respects the very core of government S&T. Without the S&T knowledge embodied in RSA-focused personnel and agencies, the federal government (and by extension provincial governments as well) would not have the necessary capacity to regulate, monitor, and manage risks in the public interest. Even in purely definitional terms, the current definition of RSA is misleading in conveying what is actually involved.

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The work of four agencies examined in chapter 7 tells us more clearly what RSA is and how it involves a complex set of service-oriented and regulatory tasks and relationships within Canada – and indeed globally. For the New Substances Branch of Environment Canada and the Veterinary Drugs Directorate of Health Canada, RSA mainly involves new substance notifications, the direct pre-market assessment of product proposals, and the enforcement of rules. But also included is the drafting of guideline documents for any number of Canadian client groups and product users. The post-market monitoring of products (that is, once they are on the market) is also increasingly a part of their RSA. For the Canada Water Survey and the Consumer and Clinical Radiation Protection Bureau, the focus of RSA is more on the crucial, ongoing science-based monitoring of activities, volumes, and impacts of environmental and health hazards and risks at numerous discrete sites and locations, many of them remote and dangerous. It also involves the tendering of advice to professional groups and the exchange of knowledge and information with international bodies and fellow RSA practitioners in other countries and jurisdictions. The analysis has shown the mix of regulatory and monitoring tasks these RSA-focused agencies must carry out and the varied core decision volumes they must manage. Regulation involves the enforcement and sanctioning authority and power of the state, but it also involves numerous service relationships. We suggest that the various RSA tasks can be usefully cast in ways similar to the manner in which services and service relationships and innovation are being viewed in the private knowledge-based economy – namely, as varied triads of service relations including the service provider, the service client, and the service medium. The agencies surveyed operate very much in this kind of complex relational world, with RSA emerging crucially out of the education, training, knowledge, and experience of frontline assessors and monitoring personnel, but also out of their ability and the agencies’ ability to obtain timely R&D inputs and other kinds of knowledge from many sources – national, provincial, and international. Like R&D, RSA depends on capital equipment and technologies that are constantly changing. We conclude that the federal government, while certainly not unaware of the importance of RSA, basically obscures RSA and seriously underplays it in public debates, in funding, and in its core publications about federal S&T and innovation policies. RSA is simply not as central to its broader S&T and innovation policy story line, which overwhelmingly favours academic and private-sector S&T and innovation

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rather than the S&T required to underpin the public interest monitoring and regulatory tasks that government must carry out. The Governance and Accountability of S&T Labs and Agencies and Commercial versus Public Good Mandates Last but certainly not least, we offer some concluding observations about the overall governance and accountability of S&T labs and agencies and why this is crucial to developing a better sense of strategic science in the public interest. While most of these institutions are small and relatively unknown to the Canadian public, their aggregate importance to the Canadian economy and to Canadian society is extremely large. There is probably a rough historical understanding among Canadians that institutions of government science have been important to national and provincial–regional development, but it is not at all clear that their current importance is anywhere near fully appreciated either by the centre of federal and national decision making or by Canadians as a whole. Whether cast in terms of their commercial roles or their larger public good roles, government laboratories and S&T agencies are in a very real sense a strategic asset, a form of political–economic– environmental capital that can be supported and invested in, or can be dissipated and allowed to depreciate through benign or designed neglect. There are both broad and narrow aspects to the implied notions of governance and accountability inherent in this initial observation about strategic choice. Broadly, it means that the federal government and Parliament need more systematic information about this stock of government science and better venues in which to discuss it. Our discussion of RSA suggests that as a first step, the federal government needs to report differently and more fully about its entire S&T enterprise and not just on those aspects that fit into its innovation and commercialization story. However, our look at a few federal labs and agencies also shows that at a micro level, there are ways to underpin a better accountability and strategic choice regime. Public information about individual labs and agencies (in business plans, annual reports, and website information) is either quite literally non-existent for some labs or widely varied in its utility. The extent to which labs and agencies make use of advisory bodies or employ peer review panels to help formulate their research agendas and assess performance varies considerably.

Conclusions

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The ultimate reason, other than normal democratic ones, for enhanced accountability is that better accountability and better political forums for discussion are ultimately needed to help reach ongoing judgments about how much money and resources are enough to sustain these crucial and growing tasks in a modern economy and society. This book has traced the impacts of program review expenditure and personnel cuts on the case study labs and agencies and also some of the impacts of the post-1997 era of federal budgetary surpluses. In this dual context, we have often noted that the labs have not yet had their budgets and staff ‘restored’ to pre–program review levels. But how can one know that either the pre–program review levels or the post–program review levels of support were adequate to the task? During the post-1997 era of budget surpluses, several billions did go into the university sector. But what if a couple of billion of those funds had gone into the labs and agencies to enhance their R&D and RSA capacities? In all of these scenarios, the answer to the question ‘How much is enough?’ is not an easy one. Program review cuts undoubtedly were harmful in many ways. But it is also possible from the book’s case studies to show that some labs actually were strengthened by some of the choices they made when the cuts hit in the mid-1990s, in that they were compelled to focus on the delivery of core mandates. Equally, other cases showed that cuts produced an undoubted loss in basic core capacities during a period in which the same government that was cutting capacity was also signing up (via new laws, treaties, and promises) to deliver more, and where ‘more’ meant, in many cases, the need for more government science. And this was not science that any other institution – not businesses or universities or civil or citizen science – could credibly and effectively do in decision time frames that were realistic for government ministers and officials. Central to the transparency and accountability debate are the core S&T labs’ choices regarding the commercial role versus the public good role. Both roles are ‘in the public interest,’ but in a simple sense they generate inevitable clashes, largely because the state itself must play and/or foster both kinds of public interest values. Some of our labs, such as the wildlife lab, are unambiguously public good–producing institutions. None of them are purely commercial, but some, such as the Devon lab, have a more dominant commercial focus. Most labs play both roles and thus face the practical choice observed at several points in the book regarding the institutional ‘catch-22.’ To be able to offer commercially useful knowledge to firms, labs must

204 Strategic Science in the Public Interest

have a constantly replenished stock of new basic knowledge. Otherwise, they will eventually have nothing useful to offer and, moreover, they will be unable to attract high-calibre S&T staff. It is not only the world of government fiscal policy that faces the dynamics of vicious and virtuous cycles. So too does the world of government S&T labs and agencies. Many other issues about S&T labs still need more focused attention. Their relationships to universities are changing. The issue of locating some labs at universities is, on the one hand, attractive both in exposing the labs to an everyday exchange with younger researchers and also in gaining them more state-of-the-art facilities. On the other hand, the science generated by university-located federal labs still has to feed in a timely and informed way into practical policy, regulatory, and monitoring contexts – situations that are not the first concern of a university. The international role of S&T labs and of RSA-focused bodies also warrants more attention. Our case study labs and RSA agencies showed quite wide differences in the extent and nature of their international roles, be they with universities in other countries or with government departments and agencies in other countries or with international agencies. A globalized economy and society and the increasing diffusion of global S&T capacity mean that international linkages and knowledge sharing are likely to increase, and labs must have the capacity to manage these links and take advantage of them. Because of the difficulty and importance of these choices and judgments, better kinds of accountability and governance information and forums to discuss S&T labs and agencies are an essential prerequisite for the practice of strategic science in the public interest. S&T labs and agencies are not all there is to government science but they are a much more critical part than they have been portrayed in the academic analyses or even the federal government’s own reports. Federal S&T policies need to reiterate more clearly that government science is not wholly coincident with an innovation and commercial role, with S&T labs as a residual player. Policy needs to more explicitly support and articulate the view that diverse S&T labs and agencies are a crucial front line of knowledge and capacity for complex issues of health, safety, and the environment – issues that are important for Canadian society and for democratic governance.

Appendix: Canadian and Comparative Science and Technology Data

Figure A.1. Gross domestic expenditures on R&D (GERD) as a percentage of GDP, top OECD and non-OECD countries, 2001 OECD Sweden Finland Japan Iceland Korea United States Switzerland (2000) Germany Denmark Total OECD France Belgium Canada Austria Netherlands United Kingdom Non-OECD Isreal Chinese Taipei Singapore

0

1

2

3 4 GERD as a % of GDP

5

Source: OECD, Main Science and Technology Indicators, 2004/1, July 2004.

6

Figure A.2. Canada’s GERD by major source of funds, 1993–2003 $ Billions 15 Others

GERD/GDP (%) 2.4 Foreign

Higher education

Federal government

Industry

% of GDP 2

1.6

10

1.2

5

0.8

0.4

0

0 1993

1994

1995

1996

1997

1998

1999

2000

2001

2002

2003

Source: Statistics Canada, Science Statistics Service Bulletin, Vol. 28, No. 2, Cat No. 88-001-XIE, January 2004.

Table A.1. Estimate of Canada’ s R&D expenditures by source of funds and perfoming sector, 2003 Source of funds Performers Total Federal government Provincial governments PROs Business enterprises Higher education PNPs % by source

Total

Federal Provincial Business government governments enterprises

Higher education

PNPs

Foreign

% by performer

22,450

4,368

1,256

($ millions) 9,952 3,603

641

2,630

100

2,174

2,114

1,256

1,254

1,250

000

1,250

010

1, 305 1,2 26

1,250 1,251

1,305 1,214

1,250 1,210

1,250 1,250

000 000

1,250 1,251

001 000

12,060 17,831 1,2 54 1, 100

1,330 1,919 1,254 1,219

1,253 1,861 1,217 1,256

9,150 1,730 1,258 1,244

1,250 3,603 1,250 1,216

000 616 025 003

2,527 1,102 1,250 1,212

054 035 000 00–

Source: Statistics Canada, Estimates of Canadian Research and Development Expenditures (GERD), Canada, 1992 to 2003, and by Province 1992 to 2001, Cat. No. 88F0006XIE No. 3, January 2004.

208 Appendix A

Figure A.3. Business enterprise expenditure on R&D (BERD) as a percentage of GDP, top OECD and non-OECD countries, 2001 OECD Sweden Finland Japan Korea United States Switzerland (2000) Iceland Germany Denmark Belgium Total OECD France United Kingdom Canada Netherlands Non-OECD Isreal Chinese Taipei Singapore

0

1

2 GERD as a % of GDP

3

4

Source: OECD, Main Science and Technology Indicators, 2004/1, July 2004.

Source: OECD, Main Science and Technology Indicators, 2004/1, July 2004.

Ko re a

Ja pa n

Fr an ce Ice lan d De nm ar k Fin lan d To tal OE CD Ge rm an Un y ite dS tat es

Ca na da Ne the rla nd s Sw No itz rw er ay lan d( 20 Un 00 ite ) dK ing do m Sw ed en Be lgi um

Figure A.4. Higher education expenditures on R&D (HERD) as a percentage of GERD, selected OECD countries, 2001

Science and Technology Data

209

Table A.2. Triadic patent families* as percentage of GDP** according to the residence of the inventors, by priority year Finland Japan Switzerland Sweden Germany Israel Netherlands Denmark United States European Union France Belgium United Kingdom Austria Singapore Luxembourg Norway Korea Australia Canada Italy Iceland New Zealand Ireland Hungary Slovenia Chinese Taipei Spain Slovak Republic Russian Federation Czech Republic Portugal Greece Argentina Poland China Mexico Chile Turkey Romania

1991

2000

1.69 3.30 3.95 2.18 2.21 1.35 1.84 0.98 1.57 1.30 1.51 1.16 1.19 1.03 0.47 0.79 0.63 0.24 0.48 0.47 0.58 0.52 0.35 0.50 0.24 0.09 0.06 0.12 0.00 0.02 0.08 0.03 0.04 0.02 0.04 0.01 0.01 0.01 0.00 0.01

3.99 3.90 3.68 3.68 3.01 2.88 2.13 1.90 1.67 1.61 1.51 1.43 1.33 1.32 1.08 0.89 0.76 0.73 0.70 0.65 0.59 0.56 0.50 0.44 0.29 0.25 0.19 0.15 0.08 0.08 0.07 0.05 0.04 0.03 0.03 0.02 0.02 0.01 0.01 0.01

*Triadic patent families means that the patent has been registered at the three main national patent offices (USPTO, EPO, JPO). Patents all applied for at the EPO, USPTO, and JPO. 2000 figures are estimates. **Gross domestic product (GDP), billions of 1995 USD using purchasing power parities. Source: OECD, Patent Database, September 2004.

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Index

Aboriginal peoples/communities, 78, 80–1, 196 academic science, 6, 20, 22, 51 Advisory Council on Science and Technology (ACST), 34 Agriculture and Agri-Food Canada (AAFC), 129–30; as Department of Agriculture, 143 Alberta, 3, 8–9, 12, 16, 94–8, 101–2, 105–6, 108–10, 112–16, 187, 194; Department of Energy, 99; Government of, 102, 112, 115; Minister of Energy, 94 alternative service delivery, 123, 126, 137–8, 164 Animal Diseases Research Institute, 143 antimicrobial resistance, 179 Arctic, 145, 147 Arctic Waters Pollution Prevention Act, 57 Argentina, 76 Asia, 125 Atlantic Cooperative Wildlife Ecology Research Network, 159 Atomic Energy of Canada Ltd. (AECL), 3, 150

Auditor General, 56, 82 Australasia, 145 BC Research, 135 biodiversity, 58, 105, 140, 142, 145, 149, 151, 153, 164, 194, 199 biotechnology, 3, 55, 69, 87, 173–5, 177, 180 Bird Studies Canada, 161 Bitmin, 106 boundary organizations, 21–2 BP (British Petroleum), 113 Brazil, 76 Breeding Bird Survey, 144, 146, 162 British North America Act, 141 Brundtland Commission, 140 BSE (bovine spongiform encephalopathy), 55 Burlington (Ontario), 178 Bush, Vannevar, 51 Calgary (Alberta), 134 Canada Foundation for Innovation (CFI), 4, 52, 60, 79, 102, 104, 110, 149, 182, 188 Canada Labour Code, 171 Canada Land Surveys Act, 57

228 Index Canada Oil and Gas Operations Act, 57 Canada Water Act, 59, 169 Canada Wildlife Act, 59, 142 Canada–U.S. Air Quality Agreement, 121, 125 Canadian Association for Environmental Analytical Laboratories, 129 Canadian Committee on Antibiotic Resistance, 179 Canadian Cooperative Wildlife Health Centre (CCWHC), 140, 159– 61, 163 Canadian Council for Animal Care, 158 Canadian Council of Ministers of the Environment, 134 Canadian Environmental Assessment Act, 59 Canadian Environmental Protection Act (CEPA), 59, 78–9, 90, 122, 124, 173–5 Canadian Food Inspection Agency (CFIA), 160, 172 Canadian Forestry Service, 83 Canadian Institutes of Health Research (CIHR), 179 Canadian Integrated Program for Antimicrobial Resistance Surveillance, 179 Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA), 76, 78, 89–91, 128, 137, 170 Canadian Landbird Monitoring Strategy, 146, 161–3 Canadian Oil Sands Network for Research and Development (CONRAD), 100, 102, 105–6 Canadian Water Resources Association, 178

Canadian Wildlife Federation, 160–1 Canadian Wildlife Service (CWS), 141–4, 148–9, 151, 153–4, 161, 164, 196; as Dominion Wildlife Service, 142; specimen bank, 148; Wildlife Research Task Force, 154 CanAmera Foods, 135 CANMET, 71–2, 77, 79, 82–4, 86, 90– 1, 97, 101, 103, 105–7, 110, 112; CANMET Energy Technology Branch, 9, 95, 108; CANMET Energy Technology Centre (CETC), 97; Mining Division, 72; Mineral Sciences Division, 72 CANMET Energy Technology Centre–Devon (CETC–Devon), 8–9, 94–116, 194–6, 198, 203; Advanced Separation Technologies (AST), 96–8, 102, 108–13; as CANMET Western Research Centre (CWRC), 96, 107; macro/micro budgetary management policies, 102, 107–9; National Centre for Upgrading Technologies (NCUT), 96–100, 102, 107–14; parent department mandates and changing contexts, 102, 105–7; policy-induced linkages, 102, 109–14; S&T/innovation/ commercialization policies, 101–3, 115; sustainable development and environmental policies, 100–2, 104–5, 115 CANMET Mining and Mineral Sciences Laboratories. See Mining and Mineral Sciences Laboratories Carleton University, 63, 128, 136, 141, 143, 148–51, 157–9, 165, 198 Carson, Rachel, 162 central agencies, 46 Centre for Environmental Research

Index in Minerals, Metals and Materials, 86 China, 69, 135–6; Beijing 137 Chinese Research Academy of Environmental Sciences, 137 Chrétien (government), 30, 52, 95, 102, 107, 196 citizen science, 140, 151, 163, 194, 198, 203 Clean Air Strategy, 130 Climate Change Action Fund (CCAF), 104, 128, 132, 198 Club of Rome, 96 clusters, 14, 49, 53–4 Codex Committee, 173, 179 Colombia, 135 Columbia University, 110 commercialization, 4–6, 10, 26, 34–5, 38, 44, 64, 188–91, 198–9, 202–3; definition of, 14; policy ascendancy, 53–5. See also policy menu framework; entries for each case study laboratory Commissioner of the Environment and Sustainable Development (CESD), 56 Consumer and Clinical Radiation Protection Bureau (of Health Canada) (CCRPB), 8, 166, 171–2, 176, 178, 180–3, 201 contracting out, 49; as theme in Canadian S&T policy, 26. See also ‘make or buy’ policy Council of Science and Technology Advisors (CSTA), 5, 30, 32–3, 100–1 Department of Environment Act, 59 Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development (DIAND), 163

229

Department of Natural Resources Act, 57 Devco, 70 Devon (Alberta), 9, 16, 95–7, 102, 107, 115 Domestic Substances List, 174 Ducks Unlimited, 151, 161 Edmonton (Alberta), 96, 134 El Niño southern oscillation, 145 energy (industry) sector, 9, 49, 58, 94, 98–9, 101, 109, 112–14 Environment Canada (EC), 8–9, 16, 48–9, 56–9, 76, 89, 103, 117–120, 122–4, 126–31, 134, 136–7, 140, 142–3, 146–7, 149–52, 155, 160, 166, 168–9, 173–5, 177–8, 180, 183–4, 192, 195–8, 200–1; Air Pollution Prevention Directorate, 131, 134; – as Department of the Environment, 118; Environmental Conservation Service, 151, 154; Environmental Protection Service, 119, 128, 130; Environmental Technology Advancement Directorate, 119, 126, 130; Science and Technology Advisory Board, 150 Environmental Technology Centre (ETC), 8–9, 117–139, 152, 194–99; Analysis and Air Quality Division, 120–1, 129, 136; Emergencies Engineering Division, 120, 123; Emergencies Engineering Technologies Office, 123–4; Emergencies Science and Technology Division, 122–3, 137; Emissions Research and Measurement Division, 121–2, 134–5; macro/micro budgetary management policies, 128, 131–3; Marketing and Business Develop-

230 Index ment Office, 126; MicrowaveAssisted Processes Division, 124– 5, 127, 135–7; parent department mandates and changing contexts, 128, 130–1; policy-induced linkages, 128, 133–7; as River Road Labs/River Road ETC, 118–9; S&T/innovation/commercialization policies, 126–9, 137; Special Programs Division, 124, 137; sustainable development and environmental policies, 128–30 Europe, 125, 145, 163; European Union, 173, 183 experimental farms, 3 Explosives Act, 57 Exxon, 113 Exxon Valdez, 131 Federal Innovation Networks of Excellence (FINE), 5 federal S&T system: definition, 15 Federal S&T Review (1994–6), 30, 32– 3 Federal S&T Strategy (1996), 30–2 Federal–Provincial–Territorial Cost Sharing Agreements on Water Quality, 170 Federal–Provincial–Territorial Radiation Protection Committee, 172 Fine Tailings Fundamentals Consortium, 102, 104 Fisheries Act, 59 Fisheries and Oceans Canada, 160, 178 Fisheries Research Board, 3 Food and Drugs Act, 171–2 France, 163 Frascati Manual, 13, 36–8

Froth Treatment Consortium/Facility, 100, 106, 108 Genome Canada, 4, 189 Geological Survey of Canada, 3 Geomatics and Landscape Ecology Laboratory, 149, 151 Glassco Commission (Royal Commission on Government Operations), 25–6, 51 Gloucester (Ontario), 118 GOCO (government-owned, contractor-operated) model, 27, 126 government laboratory: biographies, 23–4, characteristics, 24, 47– 8; definition, 13; traditional roles, 20, 28 government science: definition, 6 Great Lakes, 147, 178 Green Plan, 102, 104, 131, 137, 157, 164, 195 greenhouse gases (GHG), 95, 102, 104–5, 114, 122, 135 Guyana, 76 Health Canada, 4, 8, 118, 124, 129, 160, 166–7, 171–4, 177, 179–80, 182–4, 189, 192, 200–1; Healthy Environments and Consumer Safety Branch, 171; Health Products and Food Branch, 172; Laboratory Centres for Disease Control, 160 hierarchies–markets–networks, 7, 20–2, 189–90 Hong Kong, 136 Hull (Quebec), 142–3 India, 69, 135, 136 industrial research, 4, 6, 28–9, 51

Index

231

Lamontagne Committee (Senate of Canada Special Committee on Science Policy), 51 Laurentian University, 78, 86 Laval University, 86 linear/non-linear models of innovation, 37, 49–54 local/regional systems of innovation, 35, 49, 53, 91–2, 115; definition, 14. See also national systems of innovation; clusters Lortie, Pierre, 29

Malaysia, 135 market failure, 25 Martin, Paul: finance minister, 52; government, 5, 53, 95 Max Bell Foundation, 160 Mazankowski, Don, 112 McGill University, 128, 136–7, 159 Meteorological Service of Canada, 3, 134, 168 Mexico, 142 Migratory Birds Convention, 142, 151 Mining and Mineral Sciences Laboratories (MMSL), 8–9, 69–93, 194– 6, 198; Canadian Certified Reference Materials Project (CCRMP), 72–3; macro/micro budgetary management policies, 78, 82–6; Mine Environment Neutral Drainage (MEND) program, 73; parent department mandates and changing contexts, 78, 80–2; policyinduced linkages, 78, 86–91; S&T/ innovation/commercialization policies, 77–9; sustainable development and environmental policies, 72–5, 78–80, 92 mining and minerals (industry) sector, 3, 9, 49, 58, 69–83, 86–94, 105, 187 Mining Industry Research Consortium, 86 Mode 1/Mode 2 systems of knowledge production, 22–3 Motor Vehicle Safety Act, 122 Mulroney (government), 27–8, 52, 77–8, 95, 102, 107, 112, 131, 151, 157, 196, 198

‘make or buy’ policy, 4

Nankai University, 137

Industry Canada, 52, 81 information technology, 55, 87, 181–3 innovation policy: definition 14; policy ascendancy, 52–3, 64. See also policy menu framework, and entries at each case study laboratory intellectual property, 30, 54, 64, 123– 4, 126, 137, 152 Intergovernmental Eco-Toxicity Group, 134 International Energy Agency (IEA), 94; Weyburn CO2 Monitoring project, 97 International Joint Commission, 58, 178 Ireland, 36 ISO certification, 74, 84, 127–8, 147 Japan, 173 knowledge-based economy (KBE), 4, 53, 185, 201; as ‘new economy,’ 53, 69, 74, 81 Kyoto Protocol, 95, 104

232 Index nanotechnology, 55 National Advisory Board on Science and Technology (NABST), 27–32; Industry Committee, 28–9; Committee on Federal S&T Expenditures, 29–30 National Air Pollution Surveillance (NAPS) Network, 118, 121, 128–30, 134, 137 National Energy Program, 107, 113 National Microbiology Laboratory, 4, 179, 189 National Registry of Toxic Chemical Residues, 148 National Research Council (NRC) Canada, 3–4, 22, 24, 51, 53, 103, 150, 178, 189 National Science Advisor (NSA), 5 national system(s) of innovation (NSI), 14, 31–2, 33, 35, 49, 53–4, 92, 115. See also local/regional systems of innovation National Task Force on Oil Sands Technology (NTFOSS), 102, 105 National Water Research Institute, 178 National Wildlife Research Centre (NWRC), 8–9, 40, 63, 127, 139–65, 194–6, 198–9, 203; macro/micro budgetary management policies, 151, 156–8; Migratory Bird Populations Division, 144–6, 152, 155, 161, 163; NWRC–Carleton Centre for Biodiversity, 149, 151; parent department mandates and changing contexts, 151, 154–6; policyinduced linkages, 151, 158–63; S&T/innovation/commercialization policies, 150–3, 164; Scientific and Documents Division, 148, 156;

sustainable development and environmental policies, 140, 151, 153–4, 164; Wildlife Toxicology Division, 144, 146–8, 152, 155, 159, 163 National Wildlife Toxicology Program, 146 Natural Resources Canada (NRCan), 8–9, 16, 48–9, 56–8, 70–4, 76–8, 80– 1, 83, 85, 91, 94–7, 100–3, 105–6, 109, 111–13, 115, 118, 137, 192, 195– 8; as Department of Energy, Mines and Resources, 77, 81, 83, 96, 101, 111; Minerals and Metals Sector, 71, 80; Office of Energy R&D, 103 Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council (NSERC), 110, 136, 159 Nepean (Ontario), 71, 143 Networks of Centres of Excellence (NCE), 5, 60; Auto 21 NCE, 128, 136 ‘new economy.’ See knowledgebased economy; ‘old economy’ new public management, 16, 23–4, 30, 49, 59–61, 84, 138, 192; as ‘new managerialism,’ 78; as ‘reinvented government,’ 108, 155 New Substances Branch (NSB) (of Environment Canada), 8, 166, 173– 7, 179–80, 183, 201 New Substances Notification Regulations, 173 Newfoundland, 57 Non-Domestic Substances List, 174 North America, 145, 162 Northern S&T Strategy, 90 Nova Scotia, 57 Oceans Act, 59

Index ‘old economy,’ 69, 78, 89 Ontario Innovation Trust, 149 Ontario, 184 Oregon State University, 159 Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD), 4, 13, 36, 56, 124, 137, 188 Ottawa (Ontario), 16, 71, 76, 118, 121, 141, 169, 171, 173 Pakistan, 135–6 Parks Canada, 160, 163 Partners in Flight, 162 patenting, 6, 34, 36, 54, 87, 152–3, 188 peer review, 22, 30, 202 performance measurement/accounting, 10, 30, 34, 49, 59, 61, 202–4; at CETC–Devon, 108; at ETC, 131; at MMSL, 78, 82, 84, 87, 89, 93; at NWRC, 155–6 Petroleum Technology Research Centre (PTRC), 96, 102, 110–1 policy menu framework, 16, 43, 47, 49–65, 194–200; macro/micro budgetary management policies, 49, 59–63, 197–8; parent department mandates and changing contexts, 49, 57–9, 196–7; policy-induced linkages, 49, 63–4, 198–9; S&T/ innovation/commercialization policies, 49–55, 194–5; sustainable development and environmental policies, 49, 55–7, 195–6. See also entries at each case study laboratory principal–agent theory, 7, 16, 21–2, 43–6, 50, 65, 189–90, 192 productivity, 54, 69, 73, 79, 81, 89 Program of Energy R&D (PERD), 60,

233

78, 85, 97–9, 102–3, 109, 111, 113, 116, 128, 132 program review, 4, 48, 59, 75, 78–9, 82–3, 88, 100, 103, 107–10, 112, 115, 120, 123, 126, 128, 131–2, 137, 151, 156–7, 164, 169, 188, 197–8, 203 provincial research organizations, 72 public goods S&T, 5–7, 11–12, 29, 44, 49, 187–91, 198–200, 202–3; definition,15; as a policy emphasis, 55; at risk, 61; at CETC–D, 103, 114; at ETC, 117, 138; at MMSL, 78, 82, 84, 91, 93; at NWRC, 140, 150–1, 195; at WSC, 169 Quebec, 178 Queen Charlotte Islands (Haida Gwaii), 145 Radiation Emitting Devices Act, 171 Regina (Saskatchewan), 96–7, 110–11, 170 related science activities (RSA), 166– 86; definition, 7, 14; vs R&D, 12, 35–41 research and development (R&D): definition, 7, 13; vs RSA, 12, 35–41 risk assessment/management, 23, 35, 55, 167–8, 172–3, 175, 177, 179, 185, 190–1, 193, 200 SAIC Canada, 120, 123–4, 133, 195 St-Basil-le-Grande (Quebec), 131 St Lawrence River, 147 SARS (severe acute respiratory syndrome), 4, 55, 189 Saskatchewan, 96 Saskatchewan Department of Energy and Mines, 96 Saskatchewan Research Council, 96

234 Index Saudi Arabia, 94, 102 science and technology (S&T) policy: definition, 13; history, 4, 25–8, 51 Science Council of Canada (SCC), 26 Scott, Senator Richard, 143 Shell Oil, 112 Simon Fraser University Cooperative Research Unit, 159 smart regulation, 55, 173; External Advisory Committee on, 55 social contract, 21, 44, 192 South America, 36, 70, 136, 145, 163 South Korea, 135 Soviet Union, 70 Species at Risk Act (SARA), 153 Standards Council of Canada, 129, 147 Statistics Canada, 36 Sudbury (Ontario), 71, 78, 91 Suncor, 106, 112 sustainable development (SD) policy, 6, 16, 55–9, 64, 191, 199. See also ‘policy menu framework’; and entries at each case study lab Sustainable Development Technology Fund (SDTF), 79, 104 Sustainable Mining and Rehabilitation Technology (SMART) program, 89 Syncrude, 106, 112 Tailings Research Centre Network, 102, 110 tax credits (for business R&D), 6 Technology Early Action Measures (TEAM), 102, 104 technology transfer, 9, 20, 26, 34, 46, 48, 76, 96, 119, 126–8, 136, 151–2 telecommunications industry, 69

total quality management (TQM), 82, 84 Toxic Substances Research Initiative (TSRI), 128, 132 transformative technologies, 55, 117 Transport Canada, 103, 122 Treasury Board of Canada, 46, 78, 82–3, 85, 109, 113, 123, 171 Trent University, 159 True North, 112 United Kingdom (UK), 5, 102, 110, 136; labs, 19, 21, 23, 192 United Nations (UN), 170 United States (US), 94, 102, 110, 125, 128, 136, 142, 162, 173–4; labs, 19– 21 US Coast Guard, 136 US Department of the Interior – Minerals Management Service, 136 US Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), 40, 130, 136, 152, 163, 179 US Food and Drug Administration (FDA), 40 US Geological Survey, 178 US National Institute of Standards and Technology, 130 University of Alberta, 102, 110–11 University of British Columbia, 78, 86, 111 University of Calgary, 111 University of Florida, 110 University of Guelph, 159–60 University of Manchester, 110 University of Moncton, 128, 136 University of Montreal (St-Hyacinthe), 160 University of New Brunswick, 111 University of Ottawa, 136, 159, 179

Index University of Prince Edward Island, 160 University of Regina, 96, 102, 111 University of Saskatchewan, 111, 160 University of Waterloo, 27 Val d’Or (Quebec), 71, 78, 91 Veterinary Drugs Directorate (of Health Canada) (VDD), 8, 166, 172–3, 175–7, 179–80, 182–4, 201 Veterinary International Cooperation on Harmonization of Technical Requirements for the Registration of Veterinary Medical Products (VICH), 173

235

Walkerton Inquiry, 184 Wastewater Technology Centre, 126 Water Survey of Canada (WSC), 8, 40, 166, 168–71, 176, 181–4, 201 Whitehorse Mining Initiative, 81 Winnipeg, 4, 179, 189 World Health Organization (WHO), 40, 130, 179 World Trade Organization (WTO), 160 Wright, Doug, 27 Youth Internship Program, 125, 133