By Jesse Marx
By Chris Parker
By Jake Rossen
By Jesse Marx
By Michelle LeBow
By Alleen Brown
By Maggie LaMaack
By CP Staff
The idea of reforming higher education to make it run more like a business--"leaner and meaner," more responsive to market forces--is a prominent theme of the '90s. It's part of the ethos of the University of Minnesota's U2000 plan. Now, as the downsizing of American institutions proceeds in earnest, a move to target higher education tenure policies is gaining steam at universities and in state legislatures all over the nation once again. And the U may prove to be in the forefront of the movement.
"All sorts of boards and legislatures are jumping in and mandating review" of academic policies, according to Cathy Trower, a research associate at the Center for Higher Education Governance and Learning at the University of Maryland. Trower and the center's director, Prof. Richard Chait, have spent years researching tenure at the independently funded center, and have authored several books on the subject. "It's pretty amazing," she says. "This isn't exclusive to Minnesota. In fact, Minnesota is kind of behind the curve."
At least two dozen state legislatures, most recently in Arizona, Florida, South Carolina and Virginia, have debated the topic of professorial workloads and proposed revising the tenure system--the policy that ensures academic freedom by guaranteeing professors economic security--in an effort to get more bang for the education buck, Trower said. Usually, the politicians, after an initial period of rhetorical swagger about deadbeat academics teaching fewer and fewer classes, back away from abolishing the tenure system altogether and leave the actual changes to the administrators. But here in Minnesota, the Legislature and Governor Arne Carlson have gone the rest of the country one step further by tying $8.6 million of badly needed funding for the school's Academic Health Center--the area of study that encompasses all health care disciplines--to rewriting the tenure code.
The legislative edict, handed down as part of a funding package signed by Carlson last week, has spawned a growing miasma of fear, anger, and mistrust on the Twin Cities campus, and helped to guarantee that the University will be one of the first major institutions to substantially revise its tenure system. In the process, warns Trower, they are likely to risk serious damage to the U's reputation as one of the country's premier research facilities.
If Minnesota abolishes or substantially weakens its tenure code and no other state does likewise, she claims, no researcher--much less an outstanding one--will want to work there: "I mean, why go there when you can go somewhere that has a strong tenure system?"
University administration had made revising the tenure code a high priority even before the Legislature stepped in. Although the bill that Carlson signed last week directed the school to alter the tenure code for only its clinical faculty--doctors, nurses, and the like--the administration has made it clear that the code will be revised across the board. Indeed, the matter has been on the table in some form since September, according to the minutes of several academic committee meetings, and was the subject of a November 20 letter from University President Nils Hasselmo to Board of Regents Chairman Thomas R. Reagan.
In that letter, Hasselmo outlined a variety of issues that he said must be addressed in any meaningful revision of the tenure code, including:
§ awarding tenure on a proportional scale; possibly increasing the length of the probationary period before tenure is granted, currently six years, to as many as nine years;
§ reducing the number of tenured positions, possibly by creating more "non-tenure track" openings;
§ redesigning the existing salary structure, perhaps replacing it with what Hasselmo refers to as a "more responsible reward system."
In outlining why he sought to rewrite the tenure policy, Hasselmo cited a need for greater financial "flexibility and efficiency" in the University's activities. Essentially, he wrote, it's a matter of expenses: The University needs to be able to restructure its fixed costs, and the biggest one--some 75 percent of the operating and maintenance budget, according to a March 20 brief issued by the University Relations office--is employee compensation.
Yet the University has actually been cutting the number of tenured faculty for several years, according to documents provided by the University's Human Resources office. Of the University's 5,587 full-time academic employees, 2,578, or 46 percent, were tenured as of April 1995--a reduction of 2.5 percent from the April 1992 figure of 2,642. Moreover, with no substantial pay increase in recent memory for faculty members, compensation is no greater now than at the beginning of the decade. Still, neither Hasselmo nor Reagan has offered any data to bolster the claim that the U needs fiscal flexibility--except in the case of the ailing Academic Health Center.
The health center, and particularly the medical school, has experienced a decline in revenues from clinical sources due to increased competition from managed-care companies and HMOs. The med school itself is facing a deficit on the order of $8 million, Health Sciences Provost William Brody told a group of faculty members recently, and the rest of the schools within the center are struggling to maintain the level of funding to which they have become accustomed.
"The big issue," Brody said at the time, "is the $30 to $50 million the med school receives in clinical revenue that comes back to support the University." That revenue, he added, is drying up, and the school can no longer count on it. The solution? Reduce the number of tenured faculty within the center, thereby slashing the biggest fixed cost--compensation.
But tenure, with its lifetime-employment provision, extends beyond the academic health center. Many of the faculty at the Twin Cities campus are suspicious of the administration's zeal to rewrite the tenure code in the name of saving the academic health center; they resent the prospect of being sacrificed on the altar of fiscal flexibility. And the bottom line is that many faculty members at the University just don't believe Hasselmo or the regents when the administrators claim they don't want to abolish tenure, just reform it.
"Mistrust is the name of what's going on within the University," says Anne Goldman, a professor of biostatistics in the School of Public Health. "It's just coming to a head now." A March 14 faculty forum featured nearly 85 teachers publicly howling at the administration. Many of those present said they feared their job security would be sacrificed to save the med school.
Those fears had seemed confirmed only a few days earlier, when a March 10 Washington Post editorial lauded Hasselmo as a visionary in the fight to reform tenure. The editorial, which appeared to draw heavily on Hasselmo's letter to Reagan, praised the president's efforts "to reduce the number of tenured faculty and possibly, if necessary, lower their salaries." Across the country, academics understandably read the Post editorial as a call for pay cuts and layoffs within their ranks. On the Twin Cities campus, faculty members assumed that the decision on the tenure code had already been made, despite Hasselmo's repeated assertions that nothing would be done without extensive faculty input.
By all appearances, Hasselmo--who, publicly at least, had consistently preached a gospel of academic freedom at any cost--was unprepared for the fallout from the Post piece and the damage to his standing with faculty. He tried to control matters by rebutting the editorial. In a March 15 letter to the Post's editors, Hasselmo wrote that a "great deal of misinformation about the University of Minnesota's review of its tenure code has been distributed" and that he wanted to "set the record straight."
The letter was cosigned by Prof. Carl Adams, in his capacity as chairman of the Faculty Consultative Committee--the group charged with protecting the faculty's interests in matters of university administration. Unfortunately, Adams had neglected to check with the rest of the committee before he signed on. Many faculty committee members interpreted the action to mean that Adams agreed with Hasselmo and the regents rather than with them. The debate that emerged over a proposed response to Hasselmo's letter to the Post engendered some nasty words for Adams--and later, at least one call for his resignation.
The faculty aren't the only ones who don't trust Hasselmo. When the University requested $25 million to fund the health center's restructuring, the Legislature balked, touching off a series of meetings between administrators--including Hasselmo himself--and legislators. Ultimately, the Legislature granted the University only $8.6 million of its original request--and that only if the school succeeds in redefining its tenure code.
"I made it abundantly clear that tenure is an integral part of the faculty system at the University of Minnesota and will so remain," Hasselmo said. "I'd prefer not to have the language."
But key legislators, explaining the bill's wording, said they don't trust Hasselmo and the regents to change anything without some financial incentive.
"I'm not interested in investing the taxpayers' money in an institution that can't deal with [its] problems," Rep. Becky Kelso (DFL-Shakopee), chairwoman of the House Education Committee's University of Minnesota Finance Division, told a Minnesota Daily reporter.
Other legislators were even more blunt.
"The most efficient way to encourage transformation at the U of M is to attempt to change the culture through incentive funding," said Rep. Anthony Kinkel (DFL-Park Rapids), who chairs the House's Higher Education Finance Division. "I have the belief that every great change in higher education has been externally motivated."
Words such as these have experts like Trower convinced the University could, in the haste to streamline its operation, be well on the way to vastly decreasing its standing in the world of academe as a result.
"Somebody's got to take the lead" with tenure reform, she says. "I just wouldn't want to be the one to do it."