Can We Talk?: No Confidence and the College Presidency
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
WITH MORE THAN 4,000 POSTSECONDARY INSTITUTIONS in the United
States, when a singular incident occurs at one, and then another, and then another, one
can spot a pattern.
The problems Lawrence Summers ran into at Harvard University last year
generated widespread press coverage in large part because he was at Harvard. And yet
over the last year, presidents also have run into serious trouble at more than a dozen
institutions, largely because of conflicts with the faculty. Frequently, the faculty senate
precipitated an institutional crisis by voting (or threatening to vote) no-confidence in the
president.
Just as frequently, the board then stepped in and registered carefully worded
support for the president. The next step was 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
usually is consumed for too long about the president’s fate, and progress slows almost to
a halt. Public discussion is dominated by the president’s troubles. Everyone doubtlessly
would prefer the headline, “University rolls out strategic plan; president outlines bold
initiative that faculty applaud,” rather than, “Faculty and president headed for
confrontation; showdown likely.”
The point is not that a board, faculty, and president should always agree on every
matter. Indeed, consensus on every issue is just as likely to signal a disengaged faculty or
a board asleep at the wheel as it is a campus community in cozy agreement. Different
organizational actors are likely to have differences of opinion because they approach
issues from their own particular vantage point. The point is one about healthy process.
Noisy Decision Making. One of the strengths of American higher education is that most
individuals feel free to engage in constructive debate about the future of the institution.
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 enabled American higher education to rise to its preeminent
status. It thus would be a mistake to suggest that a faculty vote of no-confidence signals
decision making run amok. Rather, it is a signal that healthy communication has
evaporated.
Higher education observers frequently criticize faculty senates as little more than
debating societies. In fact, most agree that the power of an institution’s faculty has little
to do with the strength of the faculty senate but rather 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 last year when a move to suspend the filibuster to force a vote on
judicial nominations severely divided the U.S. Senate.
The vast majority of American campuses have never seen a vote of noconfidence in the president, provost, or board, and few ever will. And yet the stakes are
high when a campus erupts, as those who experienced the contention on their campuses
last year 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.
A Culture of Communication. Most institutions that face no-confidence votes have
experienced communications failures. President Summers’s famous misstep was
speculating aloud about the dearth of female faculty in science and engineering, plus
displaying what many saw as an abrasive personality.
Although some dismissed the protests over his comments as a sign of political
correctness, such criticism is 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 will be received?
Other presidents targeted recently were criticized for controlling information or
failing to communicate or meet with the faculty. At two institutions, the faculty criticized
new presidents before they even had 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 at a time when
faculty salaries and hires were frozen. 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, and therein lies the problem: A leader not
only must listen to major constituencies but must be able to communicate the institution’s
vision to multiple groups over time. A 300-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 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 of the institution that awarded the hefty raise to the
president while freezing faculty salaries may have been well-intentioned, but campus
leaders need to develop a reflexive sense of how such messages are received. Just as
President Summers needed to be mindful of how his words might be interpreted, so too
must a board recognize that what its members perceive as a positive action might not be
so interpreted by the campus community. The failure is not necessarily the decision but
rather the failure to consider how different constituencies will interpret the
communicative act.
The irony is that communication problems persist even in an age of instant
messaging, e-mail, video conferences, blogs, cell phones, and voicemail. 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 they no longer trust the president (or provost or board) to speak on
their 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 be enduring, as a new president comes to campus having
to deal with the problems that led to the predecessor’s downfall despite having had no
involvement in them. The newcomer may need to expend time and energy repairing
relations, for 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.
In light of 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. The
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 they 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.
What does it mean to move quickly and reflexively in acknowledging that a
problem exists? Someone must diagnose the problems and how 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, 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 the no-confidence vote. Just as a
board should not investigate a problem while also serving as arbiter, so too, should a
faculty member avoid such a role if he or she already has come down on the side of noconfidence in the president.
Outside consultants may be useful if they are seen as neutral parties. At the
institution in which the president was accused of plagiarism, for example, 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 is disengaged or has
turned 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 have a relatively short time frame to
develop a report. Rushed commentaries are not useful, nor are studies that consume
enormous time and freeze action on campus.
When a committee is asked to write a report, the campus community should know
who will ultimately read it. It may be entirely appropriate for a board to request a report
that will be read only by the board, but if it does, this plan should be transparent and
known at the outset. Confidence will erode even further if the process is ambiguous and 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 translate for the
various constituencies 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, board, and faculty need to come together and agree on specific
actions they will take to rebuild a lasting and mutual trust.
AUTHOR: William G. Tierney is University Professor and Director of the Center for
Higher Education Policy Analysis, at the University of Southern California.
E-MAIL: wgtiern@usc.edu