The third degree

When on Monday, February 10, the New York State Board of Regents voted to oust the Trustees of Adelphi University, something happened that should keep every university president and trustee --indeed anyone concerned about higher education -- awake nights. At stake is the autonomy of independent universities in New York and the future of collective bargaining in colleges throughout the U.S.

The Regents' vote is the climax of a long faculty insurrection at Adelphi, an independent liberal-arts institution on Long Island. Last August, the Regents convened public hearings to assess a petition against the trustees. It had been entered by a small group of disgruntled faculty with the Orwellian name of the Committee to Save Adelphi (henceforth CSA). Under section 226(4) of New York's Education Law, it sought to remove the Adelphi board for "misconduct, neglect of duty, and/or the failure of the Board to carry into effect the educational purposes of the university."

The fact that the Regents opted to proceed with hearings in the first place -- a virtually unprecedented step for the Regents to take -- naturally did much to reinforce public perception of the gravity and legitimacy of the charges. But as the hearings unfolded, it became clear that the case against Adelphi was built on a tissue of irrelevancies, groundless allegations, and the resentment of a few disenchanted faculty members. In essence, the "case" against Adelphi was a labor dispute masquerading as a battle over educational principle. It is not insignificant that the attorneys for the CSA are the same attorneys representing the faculty union in its labor negotiations with the university.

The petition lodged by the CSA contained a wide range of allegations, including improper self-dealing by members of the Adelphi board. To the best of my knowledge, not a single charge was proved. But the main charge alleged that the college president, Peter Diamand-opoulos, was overpaid and mismanaged the university.

A bit of history: When Mr. Diamandopoulos took on the presidency in 1985, the university was on the edge of bankruptcy. Every year under his stewardship, the university has run an operating surplus. Since 1985, Adelphi's endowment and cash reserves have grown from about $4 million to over $40 million. Some $50 million has been invested in upgrading the physical plant. Faculty teaching loads have been reduced by 25 per cent; faculty salaries have been increased some 32 per cent above the consumer price index. At the same time, student SAT scores have soared by about 100 points, by nearly 200 points in the newly created honors college. Finally, Mr. Diamandopoulos assembled one of the most distinguished boards of trustees of any American university.

This hardly sounds like a litany of mismanagement and "neglect of duty." In fact, it's a striking success story. Not that Mr. Diamandopoulos hasn't faced challenges, including -- as at most colleges today -- a shrinking pool of applicants and declining enrollment. But the long and sordid list of malfeasance concocted by the CSA was malicious fantasy.

Why then did the Regents vote to oust the Adelphi board? What does this ominous precedent portend? These are questions that have many people worried and give the Regents' hearings a significance that goes far beyond Adelphi.

The campaign against Adelphi really got under way on September 30, 1995, when the New York Times ran a front-page story attacking Diamandopoulos. The Times's story, plainly prompted by the faculty insurgency at Adelphi, conferred the appearance of legitimacy on the allegations made by the CSA, and it was not long before other media -- newspapers, magazines, even TV -- repeated the allegations. In October 1995, the Times weighed in again with a lead editorial luridly titled "The Plundering of Adelphi." In succeeding months the Times published literally scores of stories in its continuing effort to discredit Mr. Diamandopoulos and the Adelphi board. It was a textbook demonstration of how a show-trial by media can undermine the reputation of an institution.

At the end of August, when the Regents hearings were underway, James C. Ross, president of the Commission on Independent Colleges and Universities, wrote to Carl T. Hayden, the chancellor of the New York State Board of Regents, to express his dismay over the way the proceedings against Adelphi were being handled. Mr. Ross expressed particular concern that institutions of higher education not be subjected to a public hearing without "procedural due process that is fair, predictable, and uniform as to all parties."

Having attended some of the sessions, I share Mr. Ross's concern. Hostile and sarcastic counsel for the CSA badgered Mr. Diamandopoulos and Adelphi board members about a vast range of unsubstantiated allegations and irrelevant detail. Was it not true, a hectoring counsel asked, that the president's car had a moon roof? When the philosopher John Silber, former president of Boston University and a very distinguished educator, testified as a board member, he was treated with shameful rudeness and contempt by the Regents, one of whom described his response as "simple-minded" and accused him of being on a "crusade."