Looking Back at Looking Ahead

Robert A. Duce, Professor
Oceanography and Meteorology
Texas A&M University

Robert Duce earned a BA in chemistry from Baylor University and a PhD in inorganic and nuclear chemistry from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. His research encompasses atmospheric and marine chemistry, particularly the global cycling of trace elements, the transport of mineral aerosol from desert regions to the ocean, the impact of trace substances on oceanic chemistry and biological productivity, and the long range transport of air pollution material. While at the University of Rhode Island, Duce was a professor of oceanography, the director of the Center for Atmospheric Chemistry Studies, the dean of the Graduate School of Oceanography, and the Vice Provost for Marine Affairs. He left the Northeast to become the dean of the College of Geosciences and Maritime Studies at Texas A&M University.

It has been more than 30 years since I joined the faculty at GSO and more than eight since I left for Texas. I'll never forget John Knauss telling me many years after I came to GSO just how I got my faculty job in late 1969. One of the first marine chemists at GSO was Jim Corless, for whom the Corless Auditorium was named. Jim and I were good friends and officemates in graduate school at MIT in the early 1960s. Jim went from MIT directly to URI, and I remember well his love of GSO and URI.

Jim died very early in life from kidney disease, passing away on R/V Trident as it was returning to Narragansett from a cruise. When Jim's position was advertised and Jean-Guy Schilling encouraged me to apply, my wife Mary (who was also in the group at MIT) and I debated for many weeks before I made my decision to apply. I could not imagine benefiting from Jim's death. After encouragement from Jim's wife, Inge, I finally did apply, and I got the job. However, it turns out that Dana Kester had applied for the same job, and he got it too! As John related to us later, he was sure one of us would turn the job down, so he offered it to both of us. When we both accepted, John had a dilemma, but one which he apparently solved rather easily: Both of us were hired. These days I don't believe a Dean could solve such a problem so readily, but I'm certainly glad John did. No doubt Dana is, too.

During the past 30 years, and I expect particularly during the last six to eight years, the changes at GSO have been profound, exciting, perhaps sometimes frustrating, but never dull. From my perspective, most of the core values that made GSO such a special place have remained. My 22 years at GSO seemed to fly by, and I believe that typically happens when one enjoys what one is doing. I have tried to analyze just what it was that made being at GSO so delightful during that time. It was fun because we were encouraged and given the time to do what we liked best, excellent research, and John bothered us very little with administrative trivia that could slow us down. It was also fun to live in a state like Rhode Island that values the ocean and its coasts. Everybody in the state knows about, works on, or is concerned about the ocean. The people of Rhode Island value GSO and are proud of it. Even when financial times grew tough, there was still the strong support of the citizens of Rhode Island for GSO, which meant a lot to all of us. I contrast Rhode Island with my current state, which I also love dearly. It is sometimes a challenge speaking with legislators from far west Texas, whose closest contact with salty water is the brine associated with the oil wells on their ranches. The commitment of Rhode Island to the ocean has translated into strong support for GSO during its 40-year history.

Another factor that made life good at GSO was the lack of departments. John Knauss was very wise when he banned departments from the beginning. Such artificial boundaries are certainly one of the greatest barriers to collegiality, collaboration, cooperation, and true interdisciplinary efforts that a University can construct. GSO successfully avoided that pitfall and was the stronger for it. But perhaps the most important characteristic of all was the tremendous sense of community I found at GSO. It is unequaled at any other place I have been. Perhaps it was because we were on a self-contained campus, separate from the rest of the University. Maybe it was our similar backgrounds and experiences. But other organizations had those characteristics, and they did not have the same feel. I believe it was a special combination of leadership, place, time, and topics, mixed with a wonderful group of people. Sometimes those things just happen, and we are the better for it.

What a surprise and challenge it was for me to be appointed GSO's second dean late in 1987. You can imagine the trepidation with which I undertook to follow John Knauss, the founder, inspired leader, and dean of GSO for 25 years. The four years I was in that position seemed to pass overnight. The first thing we as a faculty tried to do was take a close look at ourselves to determine where we were and where we wanted to go. After numerous committee meetings and retreats the Blue Book---A Strategy for the Future was published in early 1989. When I looked at that book recently, I felt GSO had done a good job in developing it and, for several years, following it. The document highlighted two critical new research initiatives; one devoted to global environmental issues and the other to Narragansett Bay and coastal marine ecosystems. Those two initiatives may not seem so remarkable now: this is what the ocean community has been focusing on for several years. But in 1987, the research priorities for the future were not so apparent. I believe the fact that the direction we chose appears so obvious now is a measure of how very perceptive GSO faculty and staff were.

One of the goals of that strategic plan was the founding of what was then called the Narragansett Bay Center which would focus on the study of coastal marine ecosystems. Then-President Edward Eddy strongly supported this concept. With his help and that of many other University and non-University people, we worked hard to place a building for what came to be known as the Coastal Institute on Narragansett Bay on the bond issue in 1990. That was no small feat. At the very last second, on the floor of the legislature, it appeared that the bill for the new building was about to be defeated. I remember placing an urgent call for help to former Governor Phil Noel, who had been Chairman of the Marine Programs Advisory Council. Noel, in turn, immediately called then-Governor DiPrete, and by whatever magic enables two governors from different parties to help each other in time of need, within 15 minutes the word came down to the floor of the legislature that the Coastal Institute was back on. That was only half the battle: The other half was persuading the people of Rhode Island to vote for it. During the next several months, Ted Eddy and I spoke with the editors of every newspaper in Rhode Island and went to innumerable meetings and dinners on behalf of the Institute. When the time came to vote, the people of Rhode Island remembered how important the ocean, and particularly Narragansett Bay and GSO, was to all of them, and they overwhelmingly passed Bond Issue No.4. The Coastal Institute is certainly one of the most charming and useful buildings on the Bay Campus, and it is where researchers address some of the most critical coastal issues facing Rhode Island and the nation.

Another positive feature in that strategic plan was determining the priority for faculty hiring for the next several years. This was important, because the faculty, for perhaps the first time since GSO was created, looked at the entire field of marine sciences, evaluated our strengths, determined where the overall needs and priorities were, and made difficult decisions relative to new hires. Thus, the institution was able to look strategically well beyond the interests of a particular group or subsection of oceanography to determine what was needed for the future of GSO. While I was Dean, and I believe for a few years after, those priorities served rather well, considering that they were not written in stone and that they needed to be reevaluated on a regular basis. But they were important for the type of institution we wanted GSO to become.

Several people have asked me what I was most proud of during my tour as dean at GSO. I believe three things stand out. First was simply the opportunity to lead such an organization. I was proud to be part of GSO and even prouder to help guide it for those four years. Second, I was very proud that GSO was able to initiate the Coastal Institute, even though it was not a physical reality until after I left. And finally, I am particularly proud that I had the good sense and wisdom to select Margaret Leinen as Associate Dean back in 1987. What a great decision that was for GSO and, as we all know now, for the entire geosciences community.

But what of the future? How is oceanography evolving and how will GSO evolve? It seems to me that the two are moving in similar directions, which is fortunate, although not all may see it that way. Certainly my perspective on GSO is dimmed somewhat by being away for eight years and visiting only occasionally. Roughly 12 years ago, I was asked to give my perspective on what I thought would be some of the characteristics of research in the geosciences and oceanography in the early twenty-first century. In looking over my old notes recently, I found that although I wasn¹t particularly profound in my thinking, I wasn't very far off either. Some of my points from those notes:
• Interdisciplinary and multidisciplinary research will be the norm. This has essentially occurred.
• Remote sensing technology will become extremely important. This is certainly becoming the case.
• Communications between the field and laboratory will become instantaneous. This is happening.
• Mathematical and computer modeling of coupled earth systems will become common and demand huge computational resources. Coupled earth system models are now just coming into their own.
• The financial resources devoted to the geosciences will increase dramatically as will the cost of doing research. I blew the first part of this but not the second. Hopefully Margaret will help remedy the first part.
• International cooperation will be much more extensive. The success of IGBP, WOCE, and many other such programs have made that true.
• Energy-related research will have a resurgence. This one has not really come to fruition, although with the growing interest in gas hydrates and with deeper offshore drilling, it is just a matter of time.
• Data handling and information processing will become increasingly important and potentially become resource limited. The accuracy of this forecast can be seen in the many new national and international initiatives to handle massive amounts of data.

In fact, these points are just a continuation of the "natural" evolution of the geosciences that we have seen during the past 50 years. This can be most easily illustrated by the table at left, which I have modified a bit from a presentation made by Bill Merrell in the 1980s when he was Assistant Director of NSF for Geosciences. It is clear that each period merges logically into the next, and that our future will undoubtedly be characterized by integrative, interdisciplinary efforts combined with remote sensing and computational technology.

And how about education in the twenty-first century? Education in geosciences and ocean sciences has changed and will continue to evolve, not surprisingly, along many of the same characteristic lines as research. For example, we are seeing and will continue to see more interdisciplinary courses and degree programs because that is the way science is developing. Traditional university department and college barriers must become more porous, and many of these barriers will eventually come down. GSO has always had a philosophy along these lines, but in recent years, URI and GSO have seen this trend become more broad-based.

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