I spent my last post trying to parse President Obama’s recent (January 27) speech about higher education. My main complaint was and is that the speech reflects a distorted view of the American higher-education universe, a view shaped by his own higher-education experience—a bachelor’s degree and a law degree at elite, prestigious schools. But if you really want a distorted view of higher education, look no farther than Mitt Romney.
First, education, and even more so higher education, are back-seat issues in presidential elections, and have been for decades. One could argue that, since 1980, elections have centered either on the national economy or on values. James Carville’s immortal declaration “It’s the economy, stupid,” set the tone for the 1992 election, and all signs point to the 2012 vote as an “economy” election too. While education should figure centrally in conversations about economic recovery, they never seem to at the national level. With the exception of extreme solutions offered by presidential candidates on the right (which I’ll address in future posts), candidates offer predictable platitudes about education being an important investment in oneself, etc.—the tamer stuff in Obama’s Ann Arbor speech last Friday. So finding what a candidate specifically thinks about higher education is difficult.
Fortunately (for my research purposes), Mitt Romney made a couple of bizarre references for which he was finally called out in a January 14 New York Times article by Eric Lichtblau. Lichtblau notes that on two occasions a week apart (a town hall meeting in New Hampshire and an event in Iowa) Romney held up for-profit universities as an attractive model for American higher education, but did so in a very curious way. On both occasions, he offered unsolicited endorsements for for-profit Full Sail University in Florida, explaining that “By increasing competition, for-profit institutions like Full Sail, which focuses on the entertainment field, [will] hold down the cost of education, and help students get jobs without saddling them with excessive debt.”
One egregious instance of mutual political back-scratching (the kind that so many Americans have come to hate), and one glaring error. Full Sail University is an obscure, privately owned for-profit. Why not cite the University of Phoenix, by far the largest and arguably the most representative for-profit university? The reason: the CEO of Full Sail is Bill Heavener, a major Romney donor and co-chair of Romney’s fund-raising team in Florida. The glaring error: for profit institutions typically cost around twice as much as community colleges, and in some cases more that four-year universities. Full Sail is an especially outrageous instance. According to the Times article, most of its programs cost even more than that. For example, it offers a 21-month program in “video game art” that costs $80,000. Moreover, its students do come out saddled with excessive debt—that is, if they graduate at all. The video-game-art program “graduated just 14 percent of its 272 students on time and only about 38 percent at all, while students carried a median debt load of nearly $59,000 in federal and private loans in 2008 (Times, quoting Education Department statistics).”
So, clearly to this point, Romney has laid an egg on the issue of higher education. But he does have a record, as governor of Massachusetts, which bears scrutiny and may have some predictive value. An extensively researched article by the Chronicle’s Karin Fischer looks at Romney’s record on higher education as Governor of Massachusetts as a way of anticipating how he might approach that issue were he to have been elected president the first time he ran, in 2007-8. Fischer reports the following:
In March 2003, just two months after taking office, Governor Romney introduced an audacious higher-education overhaul, proposing to privatize three public colleges, merge several others, and spin off the flagship Amherst campus of the University of Massachusetts as an independent institution. He also called for eliminating the job of one of the state’s most powerful and well-connected figures, William M. Bulger, president of the university system. The plan, Mr. Romney said, would save taxpayers $150-million at a time the state faced a $3-billion budget shortfall.
Though there was enthusiasm for some of these measures—spinning off the Amherst campus would potentially have transformed it from an institution that has always stood in the shadows of Massachusetts’ august private colleges into a world-class research university—the real sticking point was the proposed elimination of Bulger, a very powerful political figure in his own right, speaker of the state senate for 17 years (not to mention the younger brother of the state’s most powerful mob boss, “Whitey” Bulger). “By summer the plan was dead,” states Fischer.
As she looks for deeper, methodological reasons why Romney’s bold plan failed, Fischer concludes that Romney relied too heavily on consultants from his old firm, Bain & Company. These consultants failed to understand “the peculiarities of higher education budgeting,” treating universities as if they were the private sector companies like the ones that Bain regularly bought and radically restructured.
The Full Sail flubs aside—and for his own sake, one hopes that Romney won’t keep making them—the real question for this candidate is will he understand the nuances and complexity of American higher education and the difficulties it faces?

