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Averting the Nuclear Option
A faculty vote of no confidence is the “nuclear option” no president wishes to face. Building trust and communicating purposefully will avert such showdowns.
By William G. Tierney
The problems former Harvard University president Lawrence Summers ran into last year generated widespread press coverage largely because he was at Harvard. Although they attracted less attention, other presidents also ran into serious trouble over the past year at more than a dozen institutions, mostly because of conflicts with the faculty. When such conflicts arise, faculty senates frequently precipitate an institutional crisis by voting (or threatening to vote) no confidence in the president. Just as often, the board steps in and registers carefully worded support for the president. The next step is either a swift presidential departure or a slow withdrawal over the course of a year or two.
Whether one agrees or disagrees that a particular president should stay or go is beyond my purpose here, for such a decision ultimately resides with the institution. However, everyone will agree that the process of removal is lamentable. The campus is usually consumed for too long about the president’s fate, and progress slows almost to a halt. The president’s troubles dominate public discussion. Everyone doubtless would prefer a headline announcing that a president has taken a bold initiative that faculty applaud to one that says that a faculty and president are headed for a showdown.
The board, faculty, and president need not always agree. Indeed, consensus on every issue is just as likely to signal a disengaged faculty or a board asleep at the wheel as a campus community in cozy agreement. Different organizational actors are likely to have differences of opinion, because they approach issues from their own particular perspective. The point is to have a healthy process for resolving conflicts.
Noisy Decision Making
One of the strengths of American higher education is that most individuals on campus feel free to engage in constructive debate about the future of their institutions. Although we frequently bemoan the lethargic pace of decision making, it's helpful to remind ourselves that creative conflict, where different constituencies argue from their different perspectives, has been good for American higher education. It would be a mistake to suggest that a faculty vote of no confidence signals decision making run amok. Rather, it is a sign that healthy communication has evaporated.
Observers of higher education frequently criticize faculty senates as little more than debating societies. Most agree that the power of an institution's faculty has less to do with the strength of the faculty senate than with the culture of decision making that has evolved over time. What is common to most campus senates, however, is that they have a "nuclear option" at their disposal—and that is a vote of no confidence in the president. Indeed, even the threat of launching such a vote signals grave problems, not unlike what occurred when a move to suspend the filibuster to force a vote on judicial nominations severely divided the U.S. Senate.
Most American campuses have never experienced a vote of no confidence in the president, provost, or board, and few ever will. And yet the stakes are high when a campus erupts, as those who experienced contention on their campuses over the last year or two will attest. Where such a vote actually occurs, everyone invariably wishes it had not. Hence it is worth examining how to avoid such high-impact confrontations.
Culture of Communication
Most institutions that face no-confidence votes have suffered communications failures. President Summers's famous misstep was speculating aloud about the dearth of women faculty in science and engineering, as well as displaying what many saw as an abrasive personality.
Although some dismissed the protests over his comments as a sign of "political correctness," such criticism was misplaced. No president, especially not the leader of a major university, has the luxury of speaking off the cuff if he or she wants to maintain a strategic focus. Would any board want its president to speak extemporaneously on an important topic with little sense of how the remarks might be received?
Other presidents have recently been criticized for controlling information or failing to communicate or meet with the faculty. At two institutions, the faculty criticized new presidents before they had even taken office. The problems arose because some constituencies thought they had not been heard during the hiring process and believed the incoming president would not listen to them.
Communication, of course, occurs not only through words but also through actions. At one institution, the president received a substantial raise during a freeze on faculty salaries and hiring. At another, the president apparently plagiarized a speech and denied it. And one president was criticized because her vision of the university appeared either unclear or flawed, highlighting the fact that a leader not only must listen to major constituencies but also must be able to communicate the institution's vision to multiple groups over time. A three-hundred page strategic plan might be well intentioned and consume everyone's efforts for a year or two, but few people will read or use it. Simply because a president meets with the faculty senate periodically does not mean the campus has embraced, or even understands, the direction in which the president wants to take the institution.
Presidents also need to recognize that the intended meaning of a message may not be what is received. The board that awarded the hefty raise to the president while freezing faculty salaries may have had good intentions, but campus leaders need to develop a sense of how such actions will be received. Just as President Summers needed to be mindful of how his words might be interpreted, so, too, must a board recognize that the campus community might not perceive a board's action in the same way its members do. The problem is not necessarily the decision but rather the failure to consider how different constituencies will interpret an action.
Ironically, communication problems persist even in this age of instant messaging, e-mail, video conferences, blogs, cell phones, and voice mail. Campuses can become so saturated with messages that anyone's single commentary may be lost. Effective communication has become harder, not easier, because so many disparate avenues exist, and the speed with which messages are sent and received has itself become a commodity.
Rebuilding Trust
A vote of no confidence, of course, is really a vote about trust—the faculty is saying that it no longer trusts the president (or provost or board) to speak on its behalf and lead the institution. More often than not, such a vote or the threat of it has its intended effect: the president develops an exit strategy, and the campus lurches forward with a presidential search.
The repercussions may endure if a new president comes to campus having to deal with the problems that led to the predecessor's downfall. The newcomer may need to spend time and energy repairing relations, because an abruptly terminated presidency harms not only the individual but the presidency as well. The new president will need to build trust with the faculty on his or her own behalf and on behalf of the presidency itself.
After a no-confidence vote, is there an alternative to a president's resignation? It may be possible for a president to hang on and complete the academic year. No one, however, would assert that "hanging on" is conducive to institutional excellence. The president may have survived, and the institution will not be doomed, but a board and faculty can hardly allow an institution to founder, waiting until a damaged leader chooses the right moment to resign.
A first step toward renewal is for the board to acknowledge that a problem exists. Acknowledging a problem is not saying that one party is right and another is wrong. However, it is a mistake to ignore a problem. Equally troubling is for a board to instinctively rally around the president. Such a reflex is understandable. The board may believe it hired the right person and that an attack on the president is an attack on the board. Or the board may have developed genuine affection for the president and assume it should support him or her. The problem with such thinking is that the board serves as trustees of the entire institution—not as lawyers for the president's defense.
Someone must diagnose the problems and ways to remedy them. Because a cloud of no confidence confronts the president, the president is not the one to do the diagnosis. Nor is it appropriate for trustees to get directly involved. The board is likely to be the ultimate arbiter, so it should not assume an investigative role as well.
Rather, many campuses have a handful of respected individuals, usually senior faculty members, who are well known for their integrity. Such individuals are capable of assessing the situation, calming the waters, and presenting judicious alternatives about how to proceed—but only if they have not played a role in a no-confidence vote. Just as a board should not investigate a problem while also serving as arbiter, neither should a faculty member take on such a role if he or she already has come down on the side of no confidence in the president.
Outside consultants may be useful if they are seen as neutral parties. At the institution at which the president was accused of plagiarism, however, the consultant who assembled a review panel had been on the president's dissertation committee and had written a book chapter praising the president's success. The failure here, once again, was to assume that an action could be perceived in only one way. Any investigative process of this kind must be beyond reproach.
Simply because a board turns to a consultant or respected faculty member should not signal that the board is uninvolved. An effective board will stay on top of the situation and develop a clear set of procedures about how to proceed. Recognizing a problem and asking for external help does not mean that the board should disengage or turn over decision making to another body. Ultimately, the board must make a decision based on solid information.
Finally, as with all administrative actions, timing, transparency, and translation are crucial. An investigative committee should develop a report in a relatively short time. Rushed commentaries are not useful, but neither are studies that consume enormous time and freeze action on campus. In addition, the campus community should know at the outset who will ultimately read the committee report. It may be entirely appropriate for a board to request a report that will be read only by its members, but if it does, this plan should be transparent. Confidence will erode even further if the process is ambiguous or if the campus community is uncertain about what steps are to be taken. If the recommendation is for a new beginning of sorts, then the report must specify the steps that will allow healing to take place and a new beginning to unfold.
Trust, once it has been broken, cannot be repaired simply by good intentions. Rather, the president, the board, and the faculty need to come together and agree on specific actions they will take to rebuild a lasting and mutual trust.
William G. Tierney is University Professor and director of the Center for Higher Education Policy Analysis at the University of Southern California. His e-mail address is wgtern@usc.edu.
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