Unclear on transparency

In 1993, Vermont’s Bennington College was in crisis. Sensing that the school had deviated from its founding principles, the Board of Trustees open-sourced proposals for reform from the students, faculty, staff, and alumni in a process called “The Symposium.” Shortly after the disclosure of the recommendations the following year, the school’s administration fired roughly 1/3 of the faculty. The controversy surrounding the firings—and the elimination of tenure—generated a great deal of negative press, and the student population dropped to about half the number needed for the school to remain financially viable. In the end, it took 10 years for the school’s student enrollment numbers to recover to pre-Symposium conditions.

Bennington’s experience underscores the fragility of learning institutions. The University’s dual commitment to learning, as both an end and a means, places an ideological and practical strain on the allocation of resources by the school’s leadership. In this light, the response to the resignation of Dean Moody-Adams is disquieting, because it reflects that the student body is ill at ease as the school enters a new period of transition and accelerated growth.

A recent staff editorial in Spectator questions the administration’s silence over Dean Moody-Adams’ resignation. The editorial echoes the sentiments of many students, noting concerns that a senior Dean’s resignation might reflect forthcoming challenges for the college. The editorial calls for greater transparency from President Bollinger, and for the public disclosure of a report authored by McKinsey, the trusted management consultants. While this may seem like a reasonable position, the demands for transparency are problematic for a few reasons. First, the McKinsey report was commissioned by the leadership of the University as a tool for strategic planning. The idea that the student body deserves to see the report ignores that it contains privileged information that ought to be available only to those who have earned the privilege to review and act upon its content. Consider that if the report is made public to the student body, it will also be made public to competing schools. It might seem cynical to think of Columbia as an institution in competition with its peer schools in the corporate sense. But this is absolutely the case, as Columbia strives to attract the brightest minds, the best funding, and global recognition. To divulge our internal affairs to the wider world would be a serious misstep, and the student body should both acknowledge and respect that discretion has a very practical purpose.

Moreover, the disclosure of the report would be antithetical to effective strategic planning. Over the decades the University has evolved into a significant social enterprise, and the proper balancing of educational and financial goals within the institutional setting remains a highly complex undertaking. Reports like those authored by McKinsey are intended to offer the school’s leadership an outside opinion, formulated through impartial investigation. However, the positive impact these reports can have is largely contingent on the clarity of their messaging. Making the report public would significantly compromise the ability of the school’s leadership to draw upon the findings in planning and decision-making. The major points of contention would become fodder for squabbles among students, faculty, and administrators. Elements of the report are likely controversial, but from an institutional perspective it’s best that these issues are dealt with by the leadership and not in an open forum.

Finally, asking President Bollinger for an explanation of the events that transpired undercuts his authority as a steward of the school. We ought to trust that our school’s leadership has the best interests of the student body at heart. It is no accident that Columbia has emerged as a consistently excellent community of learning. We can only attribute such continuous achievement to a level of institutional knowledge that has been passed down to our current leadership. What the resignation of Moody-Adams represents is not a crisis for the University, but a statement that should reaffirm for us all that serious and well-meaning individuals are running the show. The University remains poised to thrive.

So where does that leave the student body? What obligations do we have in preventing the degradation of our school? If the recent episode has taught us anything, it is that “signals” are key. As lower-rung members of a large institution, the act of maintaining a voice in the affairs of the school is the best means to prevent miscalculations among the leadership. We may not have a right to impose upon or be privy to every top-level debate, but should we remain clear about what we as students value in our school, so that our administrators will be able to more accurately forecast the needs of the institution. Waiting until after a controversy emerges, and then demanding transparency, is a childish and irresponsible way to communicate our needs. Moody-Adams resigned from her position as Dean, but she did not leave our community. Visions of excellence may differ, but commitments are reassuringly uniform.

Esfandyar Batmanghelidj is a Columbia College sophomore. He is a member of the rugby team. Institution Rules runs alternate Thursdays.