“Come sail away”: Riding out the shifting tides in higher education

I am a product of my generation and my love of music, so it’s not uncommon for my article titles to reference a great song. Thinking about where we are today and the extraordinary times — socially and politically — in which we live and work, I find myself wanting to pivot my thinking and my writing. I’m just not sure how at times or in which direction.

One thing seems abundantly clear: We are going to be sailing in an entirely new ocean. And we are going to need new maps.

I’ve written often about the meta-crisis facing higher education (public perceptions, demographic trends and enrollment challenges, rising costs, accusations of left-leading ideologies and intentional inculcations, unionization, leadership turnover, no-confidence votes, political interference, reaching and serving new learners, rigidity and resistance to change, and more). I’ve written about how higher ed’s own internal structures, policies and long-held practices are, in fact, inhibiting needed reforms, further fueling many of these challenges and perceptions.

The global pandemic did more than add another crisis; it was an accelerant that raised both the visibility and the urgency of many of the long-standing and simmering challenges. Higher ed rose to the challenge — with enormous financial assistance from the federal government. New modalities for teaching and learning were adopted, grace was shown by all involved (faculty, students, staff, administrators), and responsible decisions were made swiftly without getting bogged down in layered reviews. Unfortunately, many of the changes made during the pandemic were not permanent. Often, colleges and universities “snapped back” to pre-pandemic operating conditions and models. The opportunity for real (and long needed) reform was lost.

Today, higher ed is facing a new set of challenges from a new administration with a new agenda. And those challenges are coming at us fast. Executive orders followed by temporary restraining orders, sudden firings followed by partial rehiring, sweeping presidential statements followed by moderated interpretations by cabinet members, an entirely new department whose mission is as unclear as its leadership that seems able to insert itself into any federal office, access any records, and decide how many staff will be terminated. Whether or not the ensuing chaos is part of the plan, this is an entirely new model that will continue to be challenged in the courts as its limits are ultimately defined.

Meanwhile, higher ed is experiencing whiplash. Respond or don’t respond? Prepare, pivot and prepare anew. Suspend now or wait and see? Take a stand or stand clear? Protest or preserve? Change titles? Terminate employees? Stay the course?

It’s exhausting and certainly not sustainable for leaders.

In charting a sustainable course, let me dive deeper into three topics:

1. Calls to reduce indirect costs on federal grants

2. Crises faced in the 2000s: their similarities and differences

3. The need for a new type of university leadership

We need transparency on indirect costs

The origin story dates back to the end of World War II, when a compact was made between the federal government and US research universities, following the success in mobilizing resources for the nuclear weapons program that ultimately brought an end to the war, to share in the costs of maintaining and operating research facilities and the supporting structures needed to conduct scientific research. For 80 years, this compact has remained in place and has provided invaluable investments in research and discovery. Those investments have led to countless advances in the fields of medicine, energy, space, microelectronics, advanced materials, computing, our understanding of the planet that sustains us, and much more. These discoveries have led to longer and healthier lives, greater prosperity and a safer nation.

The recent announcement that indirect funding for NIH grants would be capped at 15% sent shockwaves, creating panic and great uncertainty. Speculation abounded, pushback was swift, and plans for cuts were prepared. As of today, a court has ruled that the sudden reduction in this funding to universities to maintain their research was illegal, made without following proper process. Universities will need to decide their next steps, as the intention has been made clear, and the court’s ruling will not be the end of it. I’ve spoken with many colleagues, and the consensus is that there will be a reduction in the indirect cost rate for all federal agencies (NIH is just the start) but that the final figure will be somewhere between the president’s 15% figure and the current rates, which average about 50%. It may well be that the single indirect rate is established for all institutions and funding agencies, eliminating the negotiation process.

Regardless of where this lands, we must be committed to increasing transparency, clarity and understanding about indirect costs. This is long overdue and has contributed directly to the challenges we are facing today. Everything about indirect costs is opaque to most people: how the rate is set, how the funds are used, how much universities are “matching” those funds (or subsidizing the research), how fungible those funds are or are not, etc. The public doesn’t understand it, legislators don’t understand it, and many researchers on our campuses don’t understand it. Simplification can bring clarity. Clarity can bring understanding. Understanding can bring trust.

The federal government’s intention to reduce indirect cost rate by any amount will result in a reduction in our ability to conduct research, and a net reduction in overall research and development in our country. This will have direct impacts on technology transfer and commercialization, drug discovery, public health, economic growth and national security. The United States will lose its global standing as the world’s leader in science, engineering, technology and medicine.

Another great song that’s been stuck in my head for weeks is by Lenny Kravitz: “It Ain’t Over ‘Til It’s Over.” This is an unfolding story: Institutions, their leaders and their researchers need to find some new depths of patience while also planning for eventualities never before considered possible.

The tide turns in the tumultuous 2000s

The Great Recession of 2008-09 was the first major financial challenge for higher ed in the 2000s. State funding for public colleges and universities was cut. Tuition increased to compensate for loss in state support. Student loan debt increased. Hiring freezes and layoffs prevailed. Academic programs started to be eliminated. Endowments were cut. Smaller colleges struggled to remain open. Still, most institutions were able to weather the economic downturn despite state support never returning to pre-recession levels in many states. Many colleges started offering online programs, streamlined their offerings and invested in programs that were most closely aligned with professional career paths — i.e., those with the more obvious ROIs being demanded by students and their families.

The global pandemic of 2020-22 was the next major challenge. It was quite different from the Great Recession, which was something the nation had experienced several times in the last half century and that had a predictable end (and recovery). The COVID pandemic was new, it was scary and it was entirely unclear what the endgame would be (how many people would die; whether we would forever live with COVID, masks and isolation; and how colleges and universities would function, or what they would even look like, in the future).

Many people today are likening the uncertainty and fear being experienced today to what was felt during the pandemic. I can understand the parallels being drawn, but there is a key difference. With the global pandemic, the federal government was the savior. Without their commitment of funding, colleges and universities would not have been able to survive. The government bailed us out, made us whole and ensured we would come through the pandemic. What’s happening to higher ed today is being caused by the federal government. They will not be there to bail us out to keep us whole or enable us to come out the other side looking the way we did before the crisis. Their goal appears to be quite the opposite: to force us to make major changes, to disrupt and break us up — and to threaten and hold us hostage until we do.

To be certain, there are changes that have been needed, and federal pressure can help us to realize that change where we have failed to make it ourselves. But there also appear to be calls for changes that are politically motivated — ideologically aligned with the current president and the movement that swept him back into the White House, designed to distract and provoke. University leaders will need to think carefully about how, whether and when to respond. It’s no longer just about preserving mission, making students and faculty feel safe and heard or protecting principles; university leaders and their boards must also make decisions to ensure the very future of their institutions. Keeping a target off the back of the institution may fly in the face of the passions and even demands of students and faculty and even some alumni and donors.

We need different types of leaders

I’ve heard people categorize higher education institutions in several ways, adding to the simplest two categories of public and private. Until recently, I have been arguing that this distinction is less significant than it once was. Public and private universities operate far more similarly, with many of the same challenges and mechanisms for generating revenue and support. State support is much lower today, and philanthropy plays an increasingly important role.

But today is different. First, there is the assault on endowments, the largest being at elite private universities. And second, among publics, there is a stark difference between red and blue states. Discussions today seem to distinguish (1) elite privates from all others, (2) publics in red vs. blue states, and (3) public flagship and land grant universities vs. public regional comprehensives. Increasingly, it seems clear that different types of leaders may be needed for these different types of institutions. I recognize that I am focused here on (generally larger) research universities, admittedly the focus of my career and my leadership. And there is no doubt that smaller private institutions without large endowments, liberal arts colleges, community and technical colleges, HBCUs and other important classes of institutions are facing real challenges that may require leaders with new and different skills to navigate.

In recent years, leaders with experience managing complexity have been in high demand. Today, managing uncertainty is equally important. In recent years, leaders were sought who respected faculty and could work effectively with them on shared governance; who had or could quickly earn the trust of trustees; who had proven success at fundraising; and who had emotional intelligence and well-honed interpersonal skills. Essential characteristics were patience, an even temperament, being a good listener and communicator, being open and inclusive, and being both the architect and the protector of a positive campus culture. Today, while all of these remain desirable if not vital, added skills must include nimbleness; decisiveness; being politically savvy and intellectually astute; the ability to remain laser focused and resist distraction; the ability to build and empower an exceptional executive leadership team; the ability to see through walls (barriers erected by historical precedent and long-held practices) and around corners (what’s coming next from Washington and states’ responses); and the ability to safely walk narrow lines between constituents with varying needs, expectations and agendas.

In my own thinking, this boils down to the following for a university leader to be effective and successful in today’s climate: Today’s leaders must act with intentionality and rapidity.

Leaders must be intentional in articulating their vision, communicating their strategy and standing by their principles and their leadership team. They must be intentional in their decision-making, aligned to the vision and strategy, and singly focused on the institution’s long-term success (even beyond their tenure). They must be able and willing (and have the support) to pivot quickly. They must make decisions and changes quickly.

I’ve been there when alarms were sounded and watched as faculty and many leaders failed to hear (let alone heed) them. Any “rapidity” we’ve seen in responding to past crises have been more knee-jerk response/defensive than strategic/purposeful over a longer horizon. Academia is terrible at using the quiet times to do the latter. What we are seeing today, however, is a very different kind of attack — one led by our government and unabashedly aimed at higher ed. Now, we must figure out how to be strategic and purposeful during the loud time: a time in which chaos and uncertainty are at full volume, and anger and anxiety are inevitable.

I am an optimist by nature. I’ve always tried to lead and counsel with optimism. I’ve been called the Ted Lasso of higher education by my friend and fellow higher ed traveler Martin Betts opens in new tab/window. (“I’m a Believer” by the Monkees is playing in my head right now.) In that light, I offer the following closing statement:

Those who lead with intentionality and rapidity when responding to new challenges and making needed change will do more than protect their institution’s future; they will help to shape, secure and drive higher ed’s future.

In my mind, Ted Lasso is rocking out to Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.”