Shared Governance Does Not Mean Shared Decision Making
By Scott S. CowenAugust 13, 2018
Hurricane Katrina, in September 2005, shut down the Tulane campus for five months.David J. Phillip, AP Images
Over the course of my career, I’ve observed two speeds of governance: foot-on-the-brake for everyday business and pedal-to-the-metal for existential decisions. I’ve also grappled with how to honor the process of shared governance without slowing decision-making to a crawl, especially in situations that require immediate action. A first step is to make sure that everyone understands that the sharing in “shared governance” isn’t equally distributed, nor does it imply decision-making authority. That authority is held by the president and the board, the ones who are accountable for both results and shortcomings.
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Hurricane Katrina, in September 2005, shut down the Tulane campus for five months.David J. Phillip, AP Images
Over the course of my career, I’ve observed two speeds of governance: foot-on-the-brake for everyday business and pedal-to-the-metal for existential decisions. I’ve also grappled with how to honor the process of shared governance without slowing decision-making to a crawl, especially in situations that require immediate action. A first step is to make sure that everyone understands that the sharing in “shared governance” isn’t equally distributed, nor does it imply decision-making authority. That authority is held by the president and the board, the ones who are accountable for both results and shortcomings.
I used to say that when Hurricane Katrina nearly destroyed Tulane University, in the fall of 2005, it was the temporary suspension of shared governance that allowed us to recover. Our renewal plan, which involved tremendous institutional restructuring in a short time, precluded the lengthy deliberations prescribed by normal governance procedures. But with the benefit of hindsight and another decade of experience in university leadership, I’ve come to realize that what occurred after Katrina was not, in fact, the suspension of shared governance, but rather the emergence of a more effective and unencumbered version of shared governance.
Specifically, the Faculty Advisory Committee, a subgroup of elected representatives that assumes the University Senate’s powers and responsibilities when the Senate cannot function, was key to what happened in the five crucial months when Tulane was closed after the hurricane — when schools were consolidated, several programs eliminated, and a number of staff and faculty positions terminated. The committee members’ commitment to partnering with the administration and the governing board, their constructive critiques of the proposals, and their role as representatives of the full Senate were essential to the renewal plan itself, as well as to its acceptance by the Tulane community.
A transformation as swift and sweeping as the one we underwent generally seems unthinkable in higher education. What made it possible was not only a crisis that forced us to reimagine what Tulane could be, but also a leaner, expedited shared governance that was able to rapidly enact the decisive changes. That is, shared governance is not an impediment to action — an idea I may have unwittingly communicated in my description of our exceptional governance situation after Katrina — but a competitive advantage, one that differentiates institutions of higher education from many other organizations in both the for-profit and nonprofit sectors.
What does this mean for shared governance at colleges in “normal” times? Crises are energizing — there’s nothing like a hurricane to bring everyone together — but the current climate of uncertainty and upheaval in higher education, with public approval declining, financial stresses increasing, and social issues playing out on campuses, poses its own set of existential challenges. How can colleges generate the sense of purpose, urgency, and unity that follows on the heels of a Katrina, even without Katrina?
The best model, I believe, is a university senate — composed of elected representatives and chaired by a president genuinely open to rational persuasion and debate — that brings together diverse constituents, including faculty, staff, and students, encourages spirited dialogue, and provides a direct line to the institution’s leadership, including its governing board. I would also recommend the creation of an executive committee of the senate, which under ordinary circumstances would periodically interact with trustees to confer on substantive issues regarding the college’s future, but which would also have the authority to act quickly should the need arise.
Defining and communicating “the need” is a crucial element. Though some people may not perceive the gravity of a developing reputational or fiscal crisis, such threats warrant an all-hands-on-deck mentality, and it’s the president’s responsibility to evoke a sense of urgency by making the crisis real for everyone. A crisis narrative, when based on facts and conveyed effectively by a leader, can generate the sense of coherent purpose that pulls the community together and spurs people to action with or without a bona fide crisis.
While not without its critics, Arizona State University is one of those institutions that have undergone a major transformation, in the face of financial pressures, based on the perceived need to change and a strong vision of the future. Under the leadership of Michael Crow and with increasing buy-in from faculty members and administrators over the years, ASU has consolidated academic departments into large units, formed public-private partnerships, and expanded online offerings in an effort to embody the “New American University.”
Another way to create a sense of communal purpose and a basis for action is through initiatives that encourage reflection about roles and responsibilities. For example, Gustavus Adolphus College hosted a series of open meetings with the theme of “working together on working together.” Another example is Fort Lewis College, where a yearlong process of revising its mission statement involved everyone from administrators to students. Even in a noncrisis situation, a continuing conversation about mission and meaning can elicit enthusiasm, commitment, and esprit d’corps.
A crisis narrative, when based on facts and conveyed effectively by a leader, can generate the sense of coherent purpose that pulls the community together.
To help colleges survive and thrive in a rapidly evolving environment, we must create space for change through effective decision-making. A new model of shared governance that is inclusive but also nimble and flexible will be necessary.
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Faculty and staff members and students will need to understand and accept their roles as advisers, as opposed to decision makers; an executive committee will need to be prepared to step up when the going gets tough and time is of the essence; trustees will need to do justice to the great responsibility they’ve been entrusted with; and the president, who is both leader and follower, will need to hold the conductor’s baton and help everyone keep the tempo. That kind of equilibrium will put us at a competitive advantage during these uncertain times.
Scott S. Cowen is president emeritus at Tulane University and the author, most recently, of Winnebagos on Wednesday: How Visionary Leadership Can Transform Higher Education (Princeton University Press, 2018).