More advice for Janet Napolitano

Mark’s gracious rejoinder to my letter to Janet Napolitano as she takes the reins of the University of California reminds me of an old joke:

A rabbi of Chelm is assailed by two neighbors demanding he settle a dispute.  The first presents  a devastating indictment of the second’s housekeeping, garden management, child-rearing, and more.  He listens and says, impressed, “You’re right!” The second woman denies all these assertions, and then accuses the first of setting a terrible moral example for the neighborhood, entertaining strange men at all hours, dressing inappropriately, and the like.

The rabbi says, “that’s terrible, you’re absolutely right!”

His daughter says, “but Daddy, they can’t both be right!”

After reflection, he says, “you’re right, too!”

Yes, we can.  Mark is right that the president of ten campuses, each with a chancellor, isn’t in the same position as the president of a one-campus institution. Much of what I said to Napolitano is, as Mark suggests, more directly relevant to the chancellors, though they are always academics and not new to the business. It’s also true that if Napolitano doesn’t take on Mark’s charge to get the funding tap reopened, she’s not doing her job. But doing that is not, in my view, just a matter of reciting the facts about UC’s importance to the state and society, and glad-handing important pols. The citizens of California have withdrawn their traditional support for us, admittedly through very noisy and flawed political machinery, because they do not see us as creating net value for money. Without rebuilding that support, neither smooth lobbying craft skills nor “radical political action”, whatever Mark means by that, will work.Why don’t voters realize how wonderful we are? Mark and I can see, and after all, we’re paid professional experienced expert professors, highly qualified in assessing the precise wonderfulness of public programs! He and I and all our colleagues are happy to tell everyone how great we are, and we do.  My students write down what I tell them in class and repeat it back to me; outrageous that the public doesn’t show the same respect.

Well, it is the case that any élite institution is an easy target for the ignorant and the cynical, and there have been those who like to take a shot for a quick hit of publicity.  We can’t do much about that directly, but it’s important to remember that there was a time when we were viewed quite differently and such ridicule didn’t resonate with established memes. The really enormous salaries we pay more and more administrators, only some of whose positions are justified by the growth of regulation and red tape that afflicts us, are an easy target. The president has some control of this and needs to wield it.

The wonders of our research accomplishments are actually difficult to honestly represent to the public, partly because an advance at the frontier of science or anything else is hard to even describe to someone who isn’t conversant with the territory bounded by that frontier. Sometimes we come up with something that makes a gee-whiz news story, but it’s rare. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to round up the hi-tech business leaders who hire our graduates in the sciences, but UC is a university, not a STEMersity, and we need to do a much better job explaining why we have English, Art Practice, Music, History and similar departments. Come to think of it, it wouldn’t hurt for entertainment business leaders, artists, and such to step up and explain how a liberal education – and a liberal arts scholarly enterprise–makes a society worth living in.

We (faculty) are simply not able to make this case outside our own echo chamber. For one thing, we come across as arrogant and entitled, disrespectful anyone who doesn’t share our view of our own merit and importance. We don’t offer evidence, we don’t demonstrate our value, and we are unskilled at explaining what we know to people who know something else. I think we’re also a little spoiled by mostly interacting with an audience that knows we are giving them consequential grades. More important, university faculty demanding public support for the university inevitably come across as self-serving, even when we dress it up in pleas to reduce the students’ tuition. There’s a big affective difference between food stamp recipients and the unemployed demonstrating and lobbying for better social services, and tenured professors who earn six-digit salaries for nine months, with really nice benefits, lobbying for our company to be given more money. Affective: it doesn’t matter to be right on the facts when you sound like you’re just trying to tilt the pinball machine of life even further your way.

Finally, and here I am surely inviting a lot of my colleagues to call me really mean names, the research we do, at least, is not uniformly wonderful. A lot of repetitive, unsurprising stuff is getting published, research that is not essential to the work of others and only gets four or five citations ever. A lot of it is written in private disciplinary gobbledygook incomprehensible outside a small circle of adepts, and unenlightening to colleagues in related (much less distant) disciplines. There is too much showing ourselves to be really smart, and not enough making other people smart.

Teaching, on the other hand, should be a piece of cake. We send thousands and thousands of ambassadors to the California public, all across the state, starting with their first Christmas break, to tell friends and relatives that every meeting of every class  was a great intellectual experience, that the comments on their papers were thoughtful, helpful and detailed, and that after only one semester of Italian they can order dinner, get the gist of the front page articles in La Repubblica, and even joke with their classmates a little! This must be what they say, because as everyone knows (well, all my colleagues know!) great researchers are just automatically great teachers…and the few who don’t say it, just don’t deserve us and the heck with them.  Probably didn’t actually study much, right? Reader, what’s that…you know a UC undergrad who came home and didn’t say those things?

My recurrent nightmare is of such a student whose father asks on that first visit home, right after the first round of hugs, “so, what’s college like?”

“Well, it’s OK, I guess. I have a couple of really nice new friends, and I think my grades will be OK. But I couldn’t get into my two first choice courses. My physics GSI [graduate student instructor] tries really hard, but he’s Chinese and his English is really sketchy, and there’s a lot of stuff I just don’t understand, and with three hundred people in lecture we can’t really ask questions. I couldn’t get into my professor’s office hours two weeks in a row after sitting on the floor in the corridor for an hour. A lot of us just don’t go to class when they don’t take attendance because it isn’t really worth it. There’s one course I really love, every day we have these great discussions that really make me think. A bunch of us took the prof out to lunch, and she said she’s just an “adjunct”, whatever that is, and that she would have to get some other kind of job next year because it didn’t pay enough, we were really sad.”

That student’s father is the finance chair of her state senator’s campaign committee, and has a golf date with the senator next week.

OK, Mark, what can the president do about this? Well, here are a couple of ideas. Please, Ms. Napolitano, for our survival (never mind our growth and progress):

(1)    Organize the business, performers’ and professional leaders’ committees hinted at above, not just alums, to make some real noise. We need people who are not on our payroll to show Californians why and how their university matters. A day a year for people to visit campuses and whisk through laboratories with cool bubbling equipment isn’t cutting it. These are people who can sell stuff that isn’t nearly as intrinsically cool as UC, from movies with Los Angeles being blown up, to organic chicken, to software with really elegant screen interfaces; they can sell us. But they can’t make any of their stuff without us and need to make that clear to voters and politicians.

(2)    Order every chancellor to present, within a year, the multi-year research management program he or she will institute on his campus, the criteria his research development committee will use to evaluate progress and for midcourse corrections, and the outreach and marketing program it will incorporate [note: sales is talking; marketing is listening]. Make it clear to the chancellors that simply increasing research funding cannot be a primary indicator of success, and neither can a count of articles in academic journals. Make it clear to the public (and to us) that academic freedom is a core principle of the university under your leadership, and also that academic freedom does not mean a lifetime entitlement to think about whatever you find diverting.

(3)    Order every chancellor to present a ten-year plan to rationalize the human resources scheme for faculty. How many PhD graduate students is each department admitting, how much of their time are they teaching instead of moving their research along, how long do they take to finish, and how many new PhDs are getting academic or other appropriate jobs; how many professional graduates are getting jobs in their field? The ten years should wind down the abusive exploitation of adjuncts  (except in the few cases where non-academics have specialized knowledge useful for a program but not practical for academic appointment), with tenured and tenure-track faculty doing the teaching. This program also needs to include a bottom-up review of tenure practices and look at alternatives like five- or ten-year rolling tenure for at least some new faculty. What qualities of mind and practice are actually leading to tenure? Are we observing them properly in junior faculty? Are we taking enough risks with out-of-the-box colleagues? How is teaching really scored and weighted when we give promotions and tenure (see (4)?

(4)    At the same time, demand from each chancellor, also within a year, the quality assurance program his campus will implement that leads his whole campus to continuous increase in student learning. Not the teaching practices he will urge faculty to use; not hiring staff teaching coaches; not doubling up on student teaching evaluations: a quality assurance program that a middle manager at, say, Toyota would recognize. Quality assurance means watching each other work, looking at our product (student learning) from a few different angles, trying different ways of doing the job, and talking about what we see. Quality assurance is not done to the production workers by a quality czar or consultants: it has to be done by the faculty and pervasively (of course expert coaching can add a lot of value).

Have a statewide annual conference, open to press and public, in which the chancellors (not their ‘deputy assistant vice provosts for teaching quality’!) present their respective QA programs’ current evolutionary state, and demand from each of them within two months the three best ideas he has found in the other campuses’ programs that he will incorporate in his own going forward.

(5)    Use all the discretionary funds at your disposal to enforce and encourage these initiatives. Kick butt. And make it clear that (2) and (4) are not projects but programs: ongoing, permanent parts of campus management.  You cannot persuasively advocate for us until we can show that we are actively getting better and better at what we do, and that we understand that what we do has to be justified not by our own evaluation, but by the value it creates for the citizens who pay us to do it.

Author: Michael O'Hare

Professor of Public Policy at the Goldman School of Public Policy, University of California, Berkeley, Michael O'Hare was raised in New York City and trained at Harvard as an architect and structural engineer. Diverted from an honest career designing buildings by the offer of a job in which he could think about anything he wanted to and spend his time with very smart and curious young people, he fell among economists and such like, and continues to benefit from their generosity with on-the-job social science training. He has followed the process and principles of design into "nonphysical environments" such as production processes in organizations, regulation, and information management and published a variety of research in environmental policy, government policy towards the arts, and management, with special interests in energy, facility siting, information and perceptions in public choice and work environments, and policy design. His current research is focused on transportation biofuels and their effects on global land use, food security, and international trade; regulatory policy in the face of scientific uncertainty; and, after a three-decade hiatus, on NIMBY conflicts afflicting high speed rail right-of-way and nuclear waste disposal sites. He is also a regular writer on pedagogy, especially teaching in professional education, and co-edited the "Curriculum and Case Notes" section of the Journal of Policy Analysis and Management. Between faculty appointments at the MIT Department of Urban Studies and Planning and the John F. Kennedy School of Government at Harvard, he was director of policy analysis at the Massachusetts Executive Office of Environmental Affairs. He has had visiting appointments at Università Bocconi in Milan and the National University of Singapore and teaches regularly in the Goldman School's executive (mid-career) programs. At GSPP, O'Hare has taught a studio course in Program and Policy Design, Arts and Cultural Policy, Public Management, the pedagogy course for graduate student instructors, Quantitative Methods, Environmental Policy, and the introduction to public policy for its undergraduate minor, which he supervises. Generally, he considers himself the school's resident expert in any subject in which there is no such thing as real expertise (a recent project concerned the governance and design of California county fairs), but is secure in the distinction of being the only faculty member with a metal lathe in his basement and a 4×5 Ebony view camera. At the moment, he would rather be making something with his hands than writing this blurb.

11 thoughts on “More advice for Janet Napolitano”

  1. Great post, especially where it agrees with me.

    Niggle 1: You complain that “a lot of repetitive, unsurprising stuff is getting published.” Er, I thought part of the problem is that in the (for many) vain pursuit of originality, not enough boring replication work is getting done – the stuff that sorts the real discoveries from the noise. Darwin wrote a monograph on barnacles after he discovered natural selection and before publishing it, to establish his professional cred.

    Niggle 2: “Order every chancellor to present, within a year, the multi-year research management program he or she will institute on his campus..” Teaching is run entirely by the university and I’ve no quarrel with the idea of a uniform QA program; in fact it must be uniform to be fair. But research can and should be funded many different ways. What right has my campus to stop me from getting DARPA money for my project on robot dragonflies, even if it doesn’t fit with the institution’s priorities, so long as the grant covers proper overheads? To a considerable extent, a research management policy has to consist in ensuring what I like to call a “level compost heap”, rather than setting specific goals.

  2. You bring in somebody famous, to do something for which s/he might be good: it’s a crap shot. For the sake of the University, I hope to Hell it works. Napolitano’s record a Homeland Security doesn’t give me a lot of confidence, but my impression is she was an okay governor. Donna Shalala, it is hard to come up with anybody who thinks that was a good appointment.

    Story: Columbia needed a head, they had a faculty meeting and looked for suggestions, a professor said, “Eisenhower” – and everybody whooped it through. And he was okay. The professor who made the suggestion was shocked forever, he had meant Milton, not Dwight.

    Another story: Shirley Temple did wonderful things for Reagan at the UN. Turned out all those ambassadors had seen all her movies, and were thrilled to talk with her.

    1. Ambassador is an odd job. It’s high responsibility, with next to no management involved. Pamela Harriman was another good one; an upper-class English wartime geisha.

  3. What is so admirable about your approach Michael is that you admit that the critics of the system (a) Have a valid point and (b) Are not evil, mislead or badly intended. You have avoided the common error of public system defenders by validating critics rather than brushing them off for questioning their betters. Defenders of the welfare system made this mistake and as a result got crushed on the issue. Defenders of K-12 education have been making this same mistake for a long time and are thereby losing the debate.

    If universities more generally can adopt your stance, a dialogue can begin and, given the talent in universities, a system can emerge that is well-supported and better-functioning.

  4. Michael these seems like such a sound approach to fundamental problems with college. Our country’s future really depends on our people to be educated and skilled. Who are we kidding here; these changes seem to be imperative and immediate. Thanks for the thought provoking article.

  5. Michael,

    I agree with most of your post but I’m surprised that you don’t endorse unleashing market forces. Could cross-campus competition increase the quality of UC undergraduate teaching? Suppose that each of the ten UC campuses could set their own tuition price. Those UC campuses offering research prestige and excellent teaching would command a tuition premium. A campus that doesn’t deliver would have to drop tuition. Undergraduate deans would now have a stronger incentive to nudge Department Chairs to focus more on undergraduate education and to nudge lazy faculty to step up their game in the classroom.

    1. I love harnessing market forces to do good; “climate destabilization charge” is engraved on my heart. But in this context, things get very complicated very quickly, starting with the enormous information asymmetry among customers1 (high school seniors with immature executive function stewing in a broth of self-actualization, raging hormones, and real curiosity about the world), customers2 (taxpayers and voters), and suppliers (faculty etc.). It’s not just that we know what’s good for the students but can’t communicate it to them; we don’t even know! The ‘product’ is also complicated: learning in the liberal-arts model, employment qualification, reputation and prestige, party opportunities…
      A problem for another series of posts (of which I hope Matt will write the first!)

    2. “Tuition”? Does Matthew mean the rack rate? Median tuition? Tuition adjusted by quality of paying student? (What’s the metric for quality?) Etc., etc.

      Markets frequently don’t work–think of the very limited scope of insurance products that are on offer, and think of why other products don’t exist (e.g., business plan insurance.) Or think of consumer arbitration. When you think of the restrictive assumptions that seem logically necessary for a functioning market, it is a miracle that they work as well as they do where they do work. Michael is right. When you have a system as complex as education, any possible reform must key off the characteristics of the system as it exists now, not a system as reconceptualized from the ground up. Oakeshott would call the latter “rationalism”, and consign it to the hell he reserved for the French Revolution.

  6. When you are sitting on one of the greatest treasures of the 20th century- the California public university system….

    and it’s going south due to changing fiscal priorities, political demographics, structural changes in academia…

    it’s hard to watch. Maybe what’s harder is that fixing it is not the top priority of the world’s what, 6th largest economy?

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