You have /5 articles left.
Sign up for a free account or log in.
Surprise: Joe Biden has angry outbursts at staff meetings. He is known to yell at subordinates when they make a mistake and use profanity and vulgar language when he bawls out aides. When staff members sign petitions calling for policy shifts, he ignores them.
Some staffers go so far as to call this behavior not only rude and nasty, but abusive.
Those of us who are older regard the president’s behavior as normal, not dissimilar to that found in John F. Kennedy’s or Lyndon B. Johnson’s White Houses.
Leadership styles have changed over time, with different contexts calling for different approaches to management. Over all, there has been a gradual, uneven shift from top-down approaches to more participative, empowering and adaptive models that emphasize collaboration, collegiality and inclusivity.
Historically, strict hierarchical structures in workplaces encouraged bosses to display dominant behaviors, including swearing and anger, to assert authority and control. Bureaucratic organizations had a clear chain of command, well-defined pecking orders and fixed ladders of advancement, and they emphasized well-defined rules, procedures, protocols and respect for organizational hierarchy.
Over time, however, a variety of factors—some legal, some psychological, some demographic—contributed to a cultural shift. Today, dominant behavior is widely regarded as counterproductive, leading to low morale, high turnover and decreased productivity. Effective leadership, we are now told, emphasizes respect, communication, collaboration and collegiality, and a positive work environment is regarded as essential for employee satisfaction.
New ideas about leadership gradually emerged. During the second half of the 20th century, there came the concept of transformational leadership, emphasizing the ability of leaders to inspire and motivate their followers to achieve collective goals and create positive change. Transformational leaders focus on vision, empowerment and fostering a sense of shared purpose and commitment among their followers.
There was also the notion of servant leadership, an idea popularized by the management expert Robert Greenleaf. This approach prioritized empathy, collaboration and ethical decision-making, seeking to empower and uplift the employees that managers lead.
Then there was transactional leadership, also known as management by exception. Transactional leaders were expected to set clear expectations and then reward employees who met those predetermined goals while punishing or dismissing those who failed.
Participative leadership, in turn, emphasizes collaboration, shared decision-making and inclusivity. Leaders seek input from their followers, encourage participation in decision-making processes and foster a sense of ownership and accountability among team members.
Adaptive leadership, an approach championed by Ronald Heifetz and Marty Linsky, stresses flexibility and an ability to navigate uncertainty and ambiguity. These leaders empower others to adapt and thrive in changing circumstances rather than relying on top-down directives.
Authentic leadership seeks to inspire trust and confidence among their followers through their transparency, honesty and ethical behavior.
A shift in leadership styles has largely been driven by the demands of the modern, dynamic workplace. Today, leaders focus on empowerment, which is regarded as a key to fostering innovation and building trust within their teams. Such an approach, it is said, leads to higher morale, creativity and productivity. This evolution reflects a broader cultural shift toward valuing empathy, diversity and work-life balance.
The idea that succeeding generations must adapt to shifting circumstances is not, of course, confined to management. You may be familiar with the claim, widely attributed to the German physicist Max Planck, that science advances one funeral at a time. In diverse realms, generational succession plays a critical role in driving societal change. History’s dynamism is, in part, the product of generational succession, and we, ourselves, are in the midst of a process of generational succession.
Generational succession refers to the process of one generation passing leadership and influence to the next within organizations, including shifts in values, priorities and operations.
A generational shift is nowhere more evident than on college campuses. As new groups of faculty, staff and students gradually replace their predecessors, we are witnessing profound shifts in educational approaches, campus culture and administrative policies better aligned with the younger generation’s values and expectations. But the process of change is never easy and often involves intense conflict. Nor are there any guarantees that the changes will result in improvement. Whether the results will be “progressive” remains to be seen.
One example of generational succession drawn from history involves the conflict between the Old Left and the New Left during the 1960s. As the great historian of the American left Maurice Isserman has shown, while the New Left was, in many respects, an outgrowth of the Old Left and represented a fulfillment of the older movement’s dreams and shared its goal of social justice and its opposition to capitalist structures, the two generations differed in their strategies, priorities and attitudes toward issues like the Cold War and cultural norms.
The Old Left, rooted in early-20th-century trade unionism, the Catholic workers’ movement, the Jewish Bund and the American Communist and Socialist Parties, focused on labor rights and economic equality. The New Left that emerged in the 1960s broadened the scope to include civil rights, antiwar activism and a wider range of social issues—above all, gender equality, environmental issues and sexual freedom.
Many members of the Old Left, including Michael Harrington, considered the New Left’s approach too fragmented, lacking in theoretical rigor and detached from the working-class base. In contrast, the New Left criticized the Old Left for its adherence to structured, orthodox approaches to politics, particularly its overemphasis on industrial labor, which it felt ignored emerging social concerns over race, other social justice issues and American foreign policy.
Somewhat similarly, some veterans of the New Left criticize today’s progressive left-wing activists for failing to develop a strategy to produce meaningful change and a coherent organizational structure with accountable leadership. They’re also concerned that the tactics activists have adopted seem more designed to provoke and alienate than to change minds or build successful political coalitions.
Early in the last century, Randolph Bourne, widely regarded as the voice of the younger generation, claimed that generational conflict was a key driver of social progress and change. He considered each new generation a cultural avant-garde that challenges the status quo, bringing fresh perspectives and values that question and often redefine societal norms. This process creates tension between generations but is essential for cultural evolution and the adaptation of institutions to changing social landscapes.
Bourne’s ideas can apply to how colleges and universities are evolving to meet the needs and values of incoming generations.
With a more diverse student body has come a greater variety of needs, preferences and expectations, requiring institutions to adapt and to provide more responsive support services, academic programs and resources. As the demographics of students (and faculty) have changed, there is a growing recognition of the importance of inclusive and culturally relevant curricula and pedagogy. In response, campuses are under pressure to incorporate diverse perspectives, voices and experiences into the curriculum and adopt pedagogical and assessment approaches that promote equity, engagement and student success.
Meanwhile, the diversification of the professoriate has influenced the research agenda, with a greater focus on issues of race, gender and inequality, as well as on more politically engaged topics. Yet, despite some progress, disparities in access, retention and advancement persist for students and faculty from historically underrepresented groups. Demographic changes have also sparked resistance and pushback, including legal challenges, political opposition and a cultural backlash.
When Thomas Jefferson condemned the “dead hand of the past,” he meant that the present should not be bound by the decisions, laws or institutions established by previous generations. He believed in the necessity of allowing each generation the freedom to adapt governance and societal norms to its current needs and perspectives, rather than being constrained by outdated or irrelevant traditions and laws. This principle underscores the importance of progress and the capacity for change.
In stark contrast, Edmund Burke, the Anglo-Irish statesman who is widely considered the father of modern conservatism but who also strongly defended the American Revolution, emphasized the importance of tradition and continuity, arguing that inherited institutions and practices provide a stable and tested foundation for society. Burke saw value in the wisdom of previous generations and cautioned against rapid or radical changes, highlighting a fundamental difference in his view and Jefferson’s on progress and governance.
In thinking about higher education, I come down squarely on both sides of this divide. I want to preserve the hallmarks of a traditional liberal education, rooted in the humanities, the arts and the social and physical sciences, even as I also call for an education that better meets the needs and aspirations of the new student majority—commuters, working adults, family caregivers, international students and those who seek a marketable credential.
I guess that makes me a bit like the late-19th-century Mugwumps, the liberal Republicans who were torn between party loyalty and support for Democratic presidential candidate Grover Cleveland in the 1884 election. According to a popular quip, they had their “mugs on one side of the fence and their wumps on the other”—a humorous reference to their split affiliations, straddling the partisan fence and perceived indecisiveness.
In his classic 1920 poem “The Second Coming,” William Butler Yeats reflects on the social and political upheavals that followed World War I and the crumbling of the prewar cultural and moral order. The poet uses the metaphor of a falcon spiraling beyond the falconer’s control to depict society’s loss of direction and coherence. His phrase “Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world” suggests a world in turmoil, where traditional structures and values have been undermined, leaving society directionless and vulnerable to catastrophic change.
The poem comments on the postwar condition where those with moral clarity and wisdom are uncertain or hesitant to act (“the best lack all conviction”), whereas those with destructive or misguided motives are highly motivated and assertive (“the worst are full of passionate intensity”). When the poem speaks of “revelation” and announces that “the Second Coming is at hand,” it refers not to the Christian promise of salvation but to powerful forces that are arising from the collective consciousness (the “Spiritus Mundi”) that threaten chaos and disorder.
The disintegration of prewar European society paves the way for an ominous new era symbolized by a “rough beast” slouching towards Bethlehem. The poem’s last lines question what form of “beast,” or new order, is coming, hinting at a future filled with potential darkness, contrasting the Christian anticipation of salvation with a more foreboding prophecy.
While the poem reflects on the turmoil and uncertainty that followed the First World War, its themes of disintegration, chaos and the search for meaning and order resonate in today’s world.
I often ask myself, will higher ed evolve in ways that will make it more democratic, or will it become even more stratified than it is today, with most college students receiving a watered-down education that involves little interaction with a teacher-scholar and that places a premium on vocational training?
A truly democratic system of postsecondary education would provide opportunities for all individuals—regardless of their background, socioeconomic status or geographical location—to pursue a well-rounded liberal education rooted in the study of the humanities, the arts and the social and natural sciences. It would prioritize accessibility, affordability, inclusivity and equity and emphasize critical thinking, problem-solving and real-world application of knowledge. It would:
- Incorporate active learning strategies, project-based learning and experiential learning opportunities.
- Shift away from traditional lecture-based instruction toward more interactive and student-centered approaches that promote engagement and collaboration.
- Adopt assessments that are more reflective of students’ abilities, placing greater weight on portfolios, presentations and collaborative projects that allow them to demonstrate their understanding and skills in authentic contexts.
I look to the future with foreboding, but also a sense of hope. I think we are currently witnessing in higher education a shift toward a better balance between academic freedom and free speech on the one hand and inclusion and civility on the other. There also seems to be pushback against overly politicized classrooms and a greater recognition of the value of viewpoint diversity. In addition, I see a renewed emphasis on the value of the humanities and on citizenship education.
In the end, however, it is up to us to determine whether we will truly fulfill higher education’s democratic promise and resist the forces that will make college less personal, narrower and more vocational.
