On Tuesday night, professor Andrew Delbanco, one of Columbia’s most prominent public intellectuals, delivered an address titled, “What’s Happening to our College(s)?” It was an unusual and welcome addition to the general discussion on campus about the state of the University, and Columbia College in particular. While it was noteworthy in its own right as an eloquent speech, Delbanco’s comments also resonated with concerns that other members of the community hold.
Due to his status as a tenured professor, Delbanco was able to criticize University policies in ways untenured professors cannot. Many of the issues he addressed—particularly threats to the Core Curriculum, a questionable and unclear financial aid program, and the lack of structure for faculty input—are serious and imminent concerns that we of the editorial board share.
But perhaps more important than the arguments Delbanco made is the significance of the speech itself. Whether or not Delbanco’s worries are valid—and we wholeheartedly agree that they are—the speech was an indication of open, ongoing conversation about the future of our institution. This conversation cannot happen without the input of professors, whose voices are sometimes absent from campus dialogue. Oftentimes professors, particularly those who are untenured, prefer to speak directly with administrators—and as a result, their voices are often not present in the public dialogue.
Delbanco’s speech raised the issue of why so few professors engage in this type of public discussion. Part of the reason, as Delbanco insinuates, is that the Faculty of Arts and Sciences does not have a direct stake or interest in Columbia College and the Core.
But a more subtle suggestion in the speech is that the administration does not welcome faculty input, opening the faculty/administration relationship for examination. The hierarchical structure of Columbia’s bureaucracy is no new topic, but has renewed interest given Delbanco’s speech.
While it’s not clear who or what is responsible for the dearth of faculty input in decisions—whether a disinterested faculty or an authoritarian administration—it’s evident that a problem exists. Delbanco makes it clear that the University has many initiatives on its plate—Manhattanville, Global Centers, extending financial aid offers, increasing diversity, and maintaining the Core Curriculum—but also says that the administration will have to set priorities. When it does so, the administration must be transparent in its budget and ranking of priorities.
Furthermore, the way these decisions and priorities are made must include input from the Faculty of Arts and Sciences—and by faculty, we mean a large body of professors, not just a small, insular advisory committee. With the termination of Columbia College’s faculty, decisions have been made without transparency or accountability. No existing structure has served as a medium for faculty input since the dissolution of the Columbia College faculty, meaning that administrative decisions are arrived at without a genuine discussion of how best to balance Columbia’s competing interests.
While the College faculty will not be reinstated, structures need to be in place where faculty members other than those who serve on the Policy and Planning Committee can discuss issues affecting the college. As Delbanco notes, Columbia College is central to the life of the University—and as such, must be protected.
When a notable faculty member delivers, as he put it, the only policy speech he has ever given and the only one he is likely ever to give, we should all be listening.

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