Make a list of the constituencies on most college or university campuses by their population size, and you’ll find students at the head of the list, representing the largest component, followed by the faculty, then staff, and at the tail will be the administrators, the smallest cohort. Rank the various groups by their visibility in the media, and you’ll find the smallest group — the administrators (most often represented by the president) — is at the head, a result no doubt of the rephrased quip, “here is where the buck stops and the headlines begin.” Most often the president, as the official spokesperson of the campus, is the one quoted in a campus story — in part because of the media’s search for a reliable (accountable) source and also because campus directors of public affairs are well trained to put the face and word of their president out front. Read about Harvard, and Drew Faust is somewhere in the story; likewise, Lee Bollinger at Columbia.
Lately, news accounts mentioning university presidents are not only about the schools, but are about the presidents themselves; who are not just in the story, but are the story.
The legendary Boston University president, John Silber, took me out for a drink in 1977, a couple of days before I left B.U., where I’d been a vice president, to assume the presidency of the University of Hartford. He had some advice and observed that when he had been dean of Arts & Sciences at the University of Texas, he’d been fired by the chairman of the board, Frank Erwin, who, when he told Silber what he was about to do, began by saying, “John, I’m about to make you famous.” Silber went on to point out that after he was dismissed, hundreds upon hundreds of students and faculty protested the action, signed petitions, and otherwise demonstrated their pro-Silber sentiments. Nevertheless, he was out. He contrasted that situation with the one at Boston University, where in 1977, six years after his arrival, students and faculty had repeatedly called for his ouster. And as the legend tells us, where he was retained for what ultimately became a notable, record-setting tenure.
“What lesson do you take from this, Trachtenberg?” he rhetorically asked and continued, “The first thing to do when you get to Connecticut is figure out who does the hiring and who does the firing.” Silber’s sound advice has come to mind many times in the last 30 years, most sharply this morning as I was watching events unfold in West Virginia, where a faculty group has called for the president of the state university to step down in the wake of a scandal having to do with the governor’s daughter receiving an M.B.A. degree without actually having completed the necessary requirements. The faculty senate called for President Michael Garrison’s ouster with a “no confidence” vote urging his resignation for the good of the institution. It would appear, perhaps understandably, that the president of the university has had a relationship with the governor and much is being read into that.
An independent review sharply criticized the issuance of the unearned M.B.A. degree to Heather Bresch, and heads have rolled. The provost and the dean of the business school have resigned (although both will keep their faculty appointments) and the challenged M.B.A. degree was cancelled. But faculty sentiments not withstanding, as of now there is no reported evidence linking President Garrison to Bresch’s degree, and the board of trustees’ backing of Garrison demonstrates the wisdom of Silber’s observation: Keep an eye on who does the hiring and who does the firing.
Lately, two groups of presidents have been in the news: those retiring after completing their terms in office and those leaving their posts in haste, before either they or their boards expected that to occur. I’m trying to figure out if there’s something to be learned from all the high-visibility short-term presidential comings and goings of late. The other day, the president of Simmons College stepped down unexpectedly after only two years; the president of William and Mary departed before his three-year term ran out this semester; and similar situations at other schools come to mind in the not too distant past: Cornell, Trinity College, and Occidental. One need only mention Lawrence Summers to define the issue I’m trying to get my head around. It seems to me that when I go online every morning I can regularly find news of some presidential personnel problem; the unhappy story of a DUI episode by the president of Mary Washington University comes to mind, as it reappeared in the press this past week.
And then there is the speculation about why. Is the university presidency flawed in some way? Does it make demands on people that are unreasonable? I don’t mean just where there are inappropriate matches. Do we have some minimum goals in mind when we elect presidents? Yesterday, the University of Massachusetts at Amherst named Robert Holub chancellor. He’s got ambitious plans for the institution as he brings his experience from the University of Tennessee to New England. Will Holub get the resources and support he needs? Will his chemistry and the campus environment mesh?
We can only wish him and other new presidents well but still question why institutions of higher education seem to be having such revolving doors in their executive suites given the careful processes by which presidents are selected. Search committees, after all, take as much as a year to seek a president. Often assisted by professional search firms, they are composed of representatives of every constituency and stakeholder in the academic community and yet … and yet … they seem to frequently misfire.
Is it the people, the governance system, or is it the standard to which university leaders are being held? The average term in the job is now 8.5 years, up from six only a few years ago, according to the American Council on Education. Short, certainly, by the standard length of faculty tenure, and not nearly as long as may be in the best interest of institutions. Directing an institution as slow to react as is a university requires patience, trust, and a long life cycle. But presidents tire, get bored, feel frustrated, yearn for the excitement and challenge of a new campus rather than the ongoing maintenance of their existing one — in each case, it is probably some and all of the above.
What if anything can be done to ensure that administrative departures are not unexpected or untimely, but rather are orderly, at a point after sound accomplishments have been piled one upon another? What can we do to protect presidents from their personnel frailties, or the embarrassing misdeeds of other colleagues? We worry, and rightfully, about the professoriate (full time and adjunct) and about the welfare of the student body. Increasingly we worry, and rightly, about the staff. Who’s worrying about the president and ultimately, about the place of and capacity in leadership of the academy? It is in our self-interest to do so.
