A versão predatória de capitalismo que temos visto espalhar-se como um polvo, substitui a competência por poder unilateral, os especialistas pelos pares, promove a mediocridade, a falta de respeito pelos direitos humanos, a desigualdade e um discurso darwinista para justificar a desigualdade, a concentração de poderes em detrimento da transparência, da partilha de decisões, despreza o conhecimento e enaltece o dinheiro.
Ora, a finalidade das universidades não consiste em fazer dinheiro. Na universidade em causa neste artigo -a Johns Hopkins-, as quase três dezenas de administradores (quase todos da área das finanças) recebem muito mais que todos os funcionários reformados a quem cortaram agora os fundos.
Apesar de ser uma universidade onde a investigação e a preparação para problemas como esta pandemia estão no topo (milhões de pessoas guiam-se pelos seus dados), a administração, ao contrário dos seus professores e investigadores, não se deu ao trabalho de se resguardar e preparar para uma eventualidade destas, o que é irónico, mas trágico, também.
Uma universidade com um orçamento de 6 mil milhões e ao fim de um mês de pandemia faz cortes drásticos nas pensões dos reformados.
Quando se põem pessoas de vistas curtas que operam para o curto prazo e para o lucro imediato a gerir instituições que operam para o longo prazo e para o desenvolvimento do conhecimento, tarefa que necessita de estabilidade e anos de investigação, necessariamente o resultado só pode ser a decadência e a corrupção -no sentido biológico do termo- do sistema e das suas virtudes.
When University Leaders Fail
The pandemic reveals ineptitude at the top. Change is needed.
François Furstenberg is a professor of history at Johns Hopkins University.
How does a university with a $6-billion endowment and $10 billion in assets suddenly find itself in a solvency crisis? How is one of the country’s top research universities reduced, just a month after moving classes online, to freezing its employees’ retirement accounts?
...
For years, the AAUP and other faculty critics have wrung their hands as norms of shared and deliberative governance disappeared, replaced by the consolidation of administrative power in the hands of corporate executives. With little appreciation for transparency or inclusiveness, and little understanding of the academy’s mission, these managers increasingly make decisions behind closed doors and execute them from above.
For those who have bemoaned these trends, the coronavirus crisis is a moment of truth — confronting us with the consequences of these transformations.
Consider the process that led to Johns Hopkins’s decision to freeze employee retirement contributions, which came as a surprise to nearly everyone affected. In his announcement, the president explained that the decision had been taken after consultation "with our trustees, deans and cabinet officers, and a subcommittee of the Faculty Budget Advisory Committee." There was no mention of consulting employee unions, staff associations, or other institutions of faculty governance. There was no mention of possible alternatives, or of careful, deliberative assessments about who should bear the financial sacrifices. Certainly, there were no meaningful faculty votes. (The faculty budget committee is composed of a small number of members hand-picked by administrators, and lacks formal authority.)
This decision-making process followed a series of measures taken over the last decade in the pursuit of what the university’s leadership has called a One University policy. During that time, financial and administrative authority has been centralized under the president and his highly paid advisers. Major decisions are made in the president’s "cabinet," a body comprising more than a dozen vice presidents and other senior advisers.
The president’s cabinet is a curious body — one that has proliferated throughout higher education, as the values of corporate America infiltrate university administrations. One would hardly think, based on the cabinet’s makeup, that it comprises the senior leadership team for an eminent research university. It looks much more like the C-suite at a public corporation, with two senior vice presidents, 12 vice presidents, an acting vice president, a vice provost, a secretary, and three senior advisers. Of the vice presidents, it seems that only the provost has significant classroom and research experience. Good as he is, he can hardly provide a counterweight to the rest of the cabinet members, who mostly have government, business, finance, or law backgrounds. Collectively, the number of J.D.s and M.B.A.s far exceeds the number of Ph.D.s.
According to the latest available public information, from 2018, the university’s president earned $1.6 million in salary plus $1.1 million in deferred and other compensation for a total of $2.7 million. That tidy sum doesn’t include the money he receives for serving on other boards, including the $310,000 he received that year from T. Rowe Price — whose chief executive happens to serve on the Johns Hopkins Board of Trustees.
But the president is hardly alone. That same year, the university’s senior vice president for finance earned $1.2 million, its vice president for development made over $1 million, the vice president for investments made over $950,000. Even the president’s chief of staff earned over $670,000. Although he earns a salary high in the six figures, the provost, ostensibly in charge of the university’s academic mission, did not rank even in the top 10 earners at the university.
...
People are told to set aside money to cover six months of expenses in case of emergency. It took just one month for Johns Hopkins to launch its dramatic cuts.
Today, university endowments all too often function like giant casinos, putting more than 75 percent of their capital in risky and illiquid assets.
...
Johns Hopkins does not publicly reveal its investments. Available IRS filings do, however, show that over nine years it paid more than $88 million in fees to an investment firm whose founder formerly served as chair of the university’s board.
...
University hospitals now operate as money-generating conglomerates, rather than for research, teaching, and public health. Degree programs are converted to branded and outsourced revenue machines staffed by subcontracted labor. Faculty research is valued for its potential to be monetized and commercialized. In short, our leaders have lost sight of an essential truth: A university exists for values different from those that dominate the for-profit world. A university governed by long timelines and long-term thinking grows conservatively and cautiously and prepares itself prudently for potential crises. If you turn a university into a giant corporation, on the other hand, it will rise and fall with the business cycle.
How does a university with a $6-billion endowment and $10 billion in assets suddenly find itself in a solvency crisis? How is one of the country’s top research universities reduced, just a month after moving classes online, to freezing its employees’ retirement accounts?
...
For years, the AAUP and other faculty critics have wrung their hands as norms of shared and deliberative governance disappeared, replaced by the consolidation of administrative power in the hands of corporate executives. With little appreciation for transparency or inclusiveness, and little understanding of the academy’s mission, these managers increasingly make decisions behind closed doors and execute them from above.
For those who have bemoaned these trends, the coronavirus crisis is a moment of truth — confronting us with the consequences of these transformations.
Consider the process that led to Johns Hopkins’s decision to freeze employee retirement contributions, which came as a surprise to nearly everyone affected. In his announcement, the president explained that the decision had been taken after consultation "with our trustees, deans and cabinet officers, and a subcommittee of the Faculty Budget Advisory Committee." There was no mention of consulting employee unions, staff associations, or other institutions of faculty governance. There was no mention of possible alternatives, or of careful, deliberative assessments about who should bear the financial sacrifices. Certainly, there were no meaningful faculty votes. (The faculty budget committee is composed of a small number of members hand-picked by administrators, and lacks formal authority.)
This decision-making process followed a series of measures taken over the last decade in the pursuit of what the university’s leadership has called a One University policy. During that time, financial and administrative authority has been centralized under the president and his highly paid advisers. Major decisions are made in the president’s "cabinet," a body comprising more than a dozen vice presidents and other senior advisers.
The president’s cabinet is a curious body — one that has proliferated throughout higher education, as the values of corporate America infiltrate university administrations. One would hardly think, based on the cabinet’s makeup, that it comprises the senior leadership team for an eminent research university. It looks much more like the C-suite at a public corporation, with two senior vice presidents, 12 vice presidents, an acting vice president, a vice provost, a secretary, and three senior advisers. Of the vice presidents, it seems that only the provost has significant classroom and research experience. Good as he is, he can hardly provide a counterweight to the rest of the cabinet members, who mostly have government, business, finance, or law backgrounds. Collectively, the number of J.D.s and M.B.A.s far exceeds the number of Ph.D.s.
According to the latest available public information, from 2018, the university’s president earned $1.6 million in salary plus $1.1 million in deferred and other compensation for a total of $2.7 million. That tidy sum doesn’t include the money he receives for serving on other boards, including the $310,000 he received that year from T. Rowe Price — whose chief executive happens to serve on the Johns Hopkins Board of Trustees.
But the president is hardly alone. That same year, the university’s senior vice president for finance earned $1.2 million, its vice president for development made over $1 million, the vice president for investments made over $950,000. Even the president’s chief of staff earned over $670,000. Although he earns a salary high in the six figures, the provost, ostensibly in charge of the university’s academic mission, did not rank even in the top 10 earners at the university.
...
People are told to set aside money to cover six months of expenses in case of emergency. It took just one month for Johns Hopkins to launch its dramatic cuts.
Today, university endowments all too often function like giant casinos, putting more than 75 percent of their capital in risky and illiquid assets.
...
Johns Hopkins does not publicly reveal its investments. Available IRS filings do, however, show that over nine years it paid more than $88 million in fees to an investment firm whose founder formerly served as chair of the university’s board.
...
University hospitals now operate as money-generating conglomerates, rather than for research, teaching, and public health. Degree programs are converted to branded and outsourced revenue machines staffed by subcontracted labor. Faculty research is valued for its potential to be monetized and commercialized. In short, our leaders have lost sight of an essential truth: A university exists for values different from those that dominate the for-profit world. A university governed by long timelines and long-term thinking grows conservatively and cautiously and prepares itself prudently for potential crises. If you turn a university into a giant corporation, on the other hand, it will rise and fall with the business cycle.
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