In my work as Oregon’s college evaluator, I am often asked why state approval is not "as good as accreditation" or "equivalent to accreditation."
We may be about to find out, to our sorrow: One version of the Higher Education Act reauthorization legislation moving through Congress quietly allows states to become federally recognized accreditors. A senior official in the U.S. Department of Education has confirmed that one part of the legislation would eliminate an existing provision that says state agencies can be recognized as federally approved accreditors only if they were recognized by the education secretary before October 1, 1991. Only one, the New York State Board of Regents, met the grandfather provision. By striking the grandfather provision, any state agency would be eligible to seek recognition.
If such a provision becomes law, we will see exactly why some states refuse to recognize degrees issued under the authority of other states: It is quite possible to be state-approved and a low-quality degree provider.Which states allow poor institutions to be approved to issue degrees?
Here are the Seven Sorry Sisters: Alabama (split authority for assessing and recognizing degrees), Hawaii (poor standards, excellent enforcement of what little there is), Idaho (poor standards, split authority), Mississippi (poor standards, political interference), Missouri (poor standards, political interference), New Mexico (grandfathered some mystery degree suppliers) and of course the now infamous Wyoming (poor standards, political indifference or active support of poor schools).
Wyoming considers degree mills and other bottom-feeders to be a source of economic development. You’d think that oil prices would relieve their need to support degree mills. Even the Japanese television network NHK sent a crew to Wyoming to warn Japanese citizens about the cluster of supposed colleges there: Does the state care so little for foreign trade it does not care that 10 percent of the households in Japan saw that program? You’d think that Vice President Dick Cheney and U.S. Senator Mike Enzi, who now chairs the committee responsible for education, would care more about the appalling reputation of their home state. Where is Alan Simpson when we need him?
In the world of college evaluation, these seven state names ring out like George Carlin’s “Seven Words You Can’t Say On Television,” and those of us responsible for safeguarding the quality of degrees in other states often apply some of those words to so-called “colleges” approved to operate in these states -- so-called “colleges” like Breyer State University in Alabama and Idaho (which “State” does this for-profit represent, anyway?).
There are some dishonorable mentions, too, such as California, where the standards are not bad but enforcement has been lax and the process awash in well-heeled lobbyists. The new director of California’s approval agency, Barbara Ward, seems much tougher than recent placeholders -- trust someone trained as a nurse to carry a big needle and be prepared to use it.
The obverse of this coin is that in some states, regulatory standards are higher than the standards of national accreditors, as Oregon discovered when we came across an accredited college with two senior officials sporting fake degrees. The national accreditors, the Accrediting Commission of Career Schools and Colleges of Technology and the Accrediting Bureau of Health Education Schools, had not noticed this until we mentioned it to them. What exactly do they review, if they completely ignore people’s qualifications?
The notion that membership in an accrediting association is voluntary is, of course, one of the polite fictions that higher education officials sometimes say out loud when they are too far from most listeners to inspire a round of laughter. In fact, losing accreditation is not far removed from a death sentence for almost any college, because without accreditation, students are not eligible for federal financial aid, and without such aid, most of them can’t go to school – at least to that school.
For this reason, if Congress ever decoupled aid eligibility from accreditation by one of the existing accreditors -- for example, by allowing state governments to become accreditors -- the “national” accreditors of schools would dry up and blow away by dawn the next day: They serve no purpose except as trade associations and milking machines for federal aid dollars.
The Libertarian View of Degrees
One view of the purpose and function of college degrees suggests that the government need not concern itself with whether a degree is issued by an accredited college or even a real college. This might be considered the classic libertarian view: that employers, clients and other people should come to their own conclusions, based on their own research, regarding whether a credential called a “degree” by the entity that issued (or printed) it is appropriate for a particular job or need. This view is universally propounded by the owners of degree mills, who become wealthy by selling degrees to people who think they can get away with using them this way.
The libertarian view is tempting, but presupposes a capacity and inclination to evaluate that most employers have always lacked and always will, while of course an average private citizen is even more removed from that ability and inclination. Who will actually do the research that the hypothetical perfect employer should do?
Consider the complexities of the U.S. accreditation system, the proliferation of fake accreditors complete with names nearly identical to real ones (there were at least two fake DETCs, imitating the real Distance Education Training Council, in 2005), phone numbers, carefully falsified lists of approved schools, Web sites showing buildings far from where the owners had ever been and other accoutrements.
To the morass of bogus accreditors in the U.S., add the world. Hundreds of jurisdictions, mostly not English-speaking, issuing a bewildering array of credentials under regimens not quite like American postsecondary education. Add a layer of corruption in some states and countries, a genial indifference in others, a nearly universal lack of enforcement capacity and you have a recipe for academic goulash that even governments are hard-pressed to render into proper compartments. In the past 10 days my office has worked with national officials in England, Sweden, The Netherlands, Canada and Australia to sort out suspicious degree validations. Very few businesses and almost no private citizens are capable of doing this without an exhausting allocation of time and resources. It does not and will not happen.
Should state governments accredit colleges?
State governments, not accreditors or the federal government, are the best potential guarantors of degree program quality at all but the major research universities, but only if they take their duty seriously, set and maintain high standards and keep politicians from yanking on the strings of approval as happens routinely in some states. Today, fewer than a dozen states have truly solid standards, most are mediocre and several, including the Seven Sorry Sisters, are quite poor.
If Congress is serious about allowing states to become accreditors, there must be a reason. I can think of at least two reasons. First, such an action would kill off many existing accreditors without having their work added to the U.S. Department of Education (which no one in their right mind, Democrat, Republican or Martian, wants to enlarge). This would count as devolutionary federalism (acceptable to both parties under the right conditions).
The second reason is the one that is never spoken aloud. There will be enormous, irresistible pressure on many state governments to accredit small religious schools that could never get accredited even by specialized religious accreditors today. The potential bounty in financial aid dollars for all of those church-basement colleges is incalculable.
Remember that another provision of the same proposed statute would prohibit even regionally accredited universities from screening out transfer course work based on the nature of the accreditor. Follow the bread crumbs and the net result will be a huge bubble of low-end courses being hosed through the academic pipeline, with the current Congressional leadership cranking the nozzle.
The possibility of such an outcome should provide impetus to the discussions that have gone on for many years regarding the need for some uniformity (presumably at a level higher than that of the Seven Sorry Sister states) in standards for state approval of colleges. We need a “model code” for state college approvals, something that leading states can agree to (with interstate recognition of degrees) and that states with poor standards can aspire to.
The universe of 50 state laws, some excellent and some abysmal, allows poor schools to venue-shop and then claim that their state approval makes them good schools when they are little better than diploma mills. We must do better.
Should states accredit colleges? Only if they can do it well. Today’s record is mixed, and Congress should not give states the power to accredit (or allow the Department of Education to give states the power) until they have proven that their own houses are in order. That day has not yet come.
Alan L. Contreras
Alan L. Contreras has been administrator of the Oregon Office of Degree Authorization, a unit of the Oregon Student Assistance Commission, since 1999. His views do not necessarily represent those of the commission.
A version of this essay was delivered as an address at Abilene Christian University’s centennial celebration this month.
For all of my career, except for one semester, I have been a faculty member at secular schools. The University of Virginia, where I now teach, is often called “Mr. Jefferson’s university,” because Thomas Jefferson conceived and designed the school. The University of Virginia is relentlessly secular, as some believe Mr. Jefferson would have wanted: Thomas Jefferson, after all, is the founding father most identified with the constitutional doctrine of a separation between church and state. What does it mean for a school to be relentlessly secular? Try these on for size.
When I arrived at UVa in 1967, Christian student groups were not permitted to meet on the grounds of the University. So far as I know, Virginia was the only public university to have this restraint. How God used two UVa students to break down this barrier is a story well worth telling, but not here.
As an assistant professor, I once tried to schedule a room in the student union for a faculty Bible study and was told no. I asked if I could schedule a room to discuss the writings of Karl Marx. No problem. But the gospel of Mark: that was apparently off limits to discuss on grounds.
On several occasions, when parents ask me to talk to their high school age children about attending the University of Virginia, if in the course of the conversation I learn that the children are followers of Jesus, I ask them if they are considering a Christian school as well. And if not, I ask why. And we have a conversation about Christian versus secular schools.
I am, in other words, a friend of Christian higher education even though I have been called, as a matter of vocation, to be at a secular school.
That is the background I bring to the question I address here: What is the difference between Christians in higher education and Christian higher education?
I can talk more knowledgeably about Christians in higher education since I am one. Christians in higher education, at secular schools, can be placed in two different bins or categories. I’m not happy with the terms, but I’ll call one group the “privatizers” and the other, the “evangelicals.”
Privatizers in higher education view their faith as disconnected from their work as professors. They are involved in a local church (often heavily involved); if they are married, they are probably faithful to their spouse; if they have children, they love their kids; and their names do not show up in the newspapers having done something that embarrasses their school.
But these professors, the privatizers, are not identified at their schools as Christians; this aspect of their identity may never be known by students or colleagues. Not that their faith is a deep or dark secret; they probably consider the information irrelevant. They are identified as professors of chemistry or accounting or German literature. That’s it. Their Christian faith is private and apart from their jobs.
These professors live in two worlds, not simultaneously, but sequentially: one is secular; that’s the campus; the other is sacred; that’s their church.
Now let me say, as an aside, that by my observation some Christian faculty at Christian colleges and universities live like privatizers as well. I have yet to decide whether this is sad, or scandalous, but they are not the subject of this discussion.
The second kind of Christian professor in higher education I’ll call the evangelical. The professors, researchers, and scholars in higher education I have labeled the evangelicals believe that the quest for truth begins and ends with Jesus. Their work involves teaching and research in their disciplines. But their calling entails extending the reign of Jesus into all realms.
The evangelicals resonate with the words of the Dutch Reformer Abraham Kuyper: “There is not one square inch of the entire creation about which Jesus Christ does not cry out, ‘This is mine! This belongs to me.’”
These professors can be found giving talks to the campus chapter of Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship, or Campus Crusade for Christ; or the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, or a dozen other parachurch organizations on their campuses.
These professors can be found leading a Bible study in their office with students or other faculty. These professors can be found having office hour conversations about the Christian faith, as well as office hour conversations about sociology and microbiology.
These professors can even be found praying for the spread of the gospel on their campuses. These are professors who, in accord with I Peter 3:15, are “always ready to give a defense of the hope that is within them,” but should be doing so, as Peter makes clear, “with gentleness and reverence.”
But you will not find these professors praying before class; you will not find these professors explaining the gospel in the classroom; you will not find these professors teaching their courses from a “Christian perspective.” While they are Christians in higher education, their institutional environment is not one of Christian higher education. Their lectures will not begin with a prayer nor will they end with an altar call.
Indeed, Christian scholars in higher education at secular schools must be scrupulously fair and impartial with their students who are not followers of Jesus, treating the academic endeavors of these students the same way they would those students who share their Christian convictions.
Now here’s what tricky to describe. It is not so much that, as Christians, these professors, the evangelicals, operate under the radar screen. In my own case, for example: probably most of my students know that I am a follower of Jesus. There are signs up on campus announcing talks that I give to student Christian groups.
Evangelical professors may be quite visible as Christians at their secular colleges and universities. But they operate under the constraint that, fundamentally, they have been hired by their institutions to teach and do research in a particular discipline or subject matter, not to evangelize.
To the extent they are open about their Christian faith, the evangelicals do so the same way that professors who are enthused about sailing or cooking can share with students something about their life outside the classroom.
A professor who is passionate about sailing can make that known to her students; her students may find that interesting; her students may even become interested in sailing. But all of her students understand that an interest or disinterest in sailing has nothing to do with the treatment the student receives in being taught chemistry or accounting. My students understand that their grade is in no way affected by their own religious beliefs, or lack thereof.
So these are two versions of Christians in higher education. In my reductionistic, bimodal distribution, one Christian professor sees his faith as largely irrelevant to his job. For the other, her job is fully under the Lordship of Jesus as a calling.
Now let me turn to Christian higher education. What should it look like?
What should Abilene Christian University and other Christian institutions be like, compared to the University of Virginia, my school? How should the two schools differ? What’s the difference between my being a Christian in higher education and schools like Abilene Christian being a part of Christian higher education?
Christian higher education does not start with Christian students. That may surprise you. But I would hope Christian institutions do not have a Christian litmus test for students.
If students want to be a part of Christian higher education, they should be welcome. The Christian faith is defensible; the Christian faith is compelling; the Christian faith is true. So let unbelievers live and learn in the environment of Christian higher education and test the faith.
Jesus did not throw out Doubting Thomas. Christian higher education should be a place that welcomes Doubting Thomases, as students.
But Christian higher education should be dominated by a faculty who are followers of Jesus. The majority of faculty at a school of Christian higher education should be Christians. The institution makes no sense if that is not the case. Students are transients; they come and go. Christian higher education is defined by a core of faculty who believe that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life (John 14:16), that every thought is to be made captive to Him and they are not ashamed of the gospel.
My undergraduate school was begun by Baptists many years ago. I have no doubt that the founders of this college were committed Christians who had a vision for a school that would have a Christian foundation. Over the years, the influence of Christianity waned at this school, as it has at so many colleges and universities.
When I was an undergraduate, I remember the college president stating that the school had hired its first avowed atheist on the faculty. This was announced with a measure of pride, as a sign of how the school was coming of age.
I look back upon that now as the time when Ichabod, “the spirit has departed,” should have been written across the campus gates.
For those who would object that a faculty predominantly Christian will suppress freedom of inquiry and the pursuit of truth, I would respond in two ways. The first is the chronicle of how secular authorities have suppressed truth as well. The second is with a rhetorical question: if Christian higher education is not made so by Christian educators, what is the alternative paradigm that merits the label?
If Christian higher education starts with Christian faculty, it must also have rules for living in a Christian community. But the rules are derivative of Christian higher education; they are not the foundation.
Years ago, T.S. Eliot put the matter this way: “The purpose of Christian higher education would not be merely to make men and women pious Christians… A Christian education must primarily teach people to be able to think in Christian categories.”
On this point, I may have a different view than parents as to why their children should be at Christian colleges. I know parents who want their children to go to a school with Christian roots because they think their children are less likely to get involved in drugs, less likely to get AIDS, less likely to fall in love with a non-Christian, less likely to... well, it's a long list -- but the list goes right down to less likely to end up wearing a ring in their lip.
I don't want to make light of these parental concerns. But my concept of Christian higher education travels in a different direction than rules of student conduct. I happen not to think that Christian higher education should be safe. I think Christian higher education should have an edge to it, just as it was dangerous to hang around with Jesus.
The Components of Christian Higher Education
Christian higher education should be defined primarily by differences in teaching; differences in credentialing; and differences in mentoring. The faculty is pivotal in each of these.
If I had time to say more, I would discuss how Christian higher education would be defined by differences in facilities and athletics. If I had time to say still more, I would discuss differences in curriculum, tuition, and even the campus bookstore.
I mention all these because the difference between Christians in higher education and Christian higher education is not minor, cosmetic, or even converging. Christian higher education should be radically different. And if my French were better, I would say, vive la difference.
Teaching. It probably goes without saying that when a physicist at ACU teaches Bernoulli’s theorem, it is not taught differently than it would be taught at UVa. When I teach the economic principle of elasticity of demand at UVa, I am confident the same formula is taught at ACU.
But when I teach the economic theory of income distribution at UVa, it is not fair game for me to ask: What might the Biblical principle of gleaning -- leaving some extra grain in the fields for the poor -- teach about income distribution in an industrialized society?
But one can and should have this kind of conversation in Christian higher education.
This is called integration: integrating the Christian faith with one’s discipline. It is not easy to do. And it will involve different shapes and forms in different disciplines to take the Bible’s great themes of Creation, Fall, and Redemption and weave them into classroom discourse.
To my mind, this is the great distinctive between Christian higher education and Christians in higher education. The classrooms and laboratories and seminar rooms of Christian higher education are places where faculty and students are free to explore topics that are, to some extent, off-limits to Christians at secular universities, or simply irrelevant to the academic discourse at secular schools.
If the faculty members in Christian higher education simply believe their job is to teach what they learned in graduate school, and go home and be good church members, then integration won’t take place. And the school will produce a generation of students, many of whom will believe there is a gap between the secular and the sacred.
Joel Carpenter has written that every Christian school needs some faculty “who focus on questions of faith and knowledge and a Christian worldview,” but goes on to add that in Christian higher education “[e]very professor must in some sense be a lay theologian.”
Credentialing. The business world emphasizes credentials. The professions of law and medicine emphasize credentials. But in higher education, we really emphasize credentials. We put them before our names, after our names; we calibrate and quantify performance; we rank people all the time; we look up to and look down on people according to performance-based credentials or titles.
For years I wrote a personal letter of congratulations to every student of mine who got an A+. I was proud of them. They made me look good too. I still do this, but now I write a letter to every student who fails my classes. Last fall I wrote 30 of these letters.
I suspect Jesus would have thought first to write the F students. Christian higher education would recognize (before I did) that the A+ students already get lots of strokes. It took me about 20 years to catch on to writing the young men and women who failed my class, and whom, perhaps, I had failed as their servant.
De-emphasizing credentials is a mark of Christian higher education. I am much taken by the Apostle Paul's example here.
How does Paul generally state his credentials? Right at the front of his epistles. Read the first verse of Romans, "Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus"; Philippians 1:1, "Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus"; Titus 1:1, "Paul, a servant of God and an apostle of Jesus Christ." In higher education, a servant is not much of a credential. It should be in Christian higher education.
I consider credentialing one of the most important areas of distinction between Christian higher education and secular schools.
It should please us when Christian college graduates get into Ivy League schools for graduate work. But in Christian higher education, it should also matter that students are growing in the grace and knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ.
That students who were estranged from their families have, as a result of being in Christian higher education, been reconciled to their families. That students who came to these institutions unredeemed now know Jesus as Lord and Savior. That students who entered shackled by materialism are now free of these bonds. That students who were chronically dishonest now let their “nay be nay and their yay be yay.” That those who were snobs, because of being part of their academic community, now are marked by humility.
Precisely how Christian higher education recognizes sanctification, and commends it, I am not sure. Abilene Christian University can place ads about Ivy League admissions. But somehow, this and other Christian institutions need to recognize and acknowledge to the community that their very best students are the sanctified ones, the broken ones, that God can use.
Students in Christian higher education need to know that the faculty values this: that professors admire godliness; that the faculty’s deepest satisfaction as professors comes from seeing students become what God wants them to be -- people for whom Jesus Christ is preeminent.
It would be great if Abilene Christian University had a Rhodes Scholar every year and the public relations office milked that for all it was worth. And in today’s world, that honor is worth a lot to a school. But I would be even more impressed if ACU was turning out Christians who advanced the Kingdom in ways that I might never read about in the newspapers or see on television.
If you read the alumni magazine at my institution, you will find all kinds of entries about the worldly accomplishments of UVa graduates. That’s what I would expect.
What would I expect the alumni magazine of a school in Christian higher education to look like? I ask because a school in Christian higher education should be a community of the Gospel. Perhaps entries like this:
Judy Jackson, class of 1974, finally has overcome the love of possessions that used to shackle her.
Tom Phillipson, the student most into drugs in the class of 1996, has accepted Jesus as his savior.
Shawna Brown, class of 2003, has been reconciled with her parents.
Daryl Hendrix, class of 1999, has developed an affection for God’s word that eluded him when he was in college.
If you have ever read alumni magazines, you will realize how peculiar entries like these would be. But, let me tell you something: when you teach at a secular school, you grow accustomed to the Christian faith being peculiar.
One of the chief functions of any Christian community is the gracious, loving diagnosis of the idols worshipped by members of the community. A Christian college or university should be a community where it is safe and normal to talk to one another about the false gods that capture our hearts.
Mentoring. I would expect Christian higher education to be full of professors who mentor students. Not just teach them chemistry and accounting; not just teach them biology and Spanish; but model out for them how to walk with Jesus. Not because these faculty members have mastered how to do this, but because they have been pilgrims longer, because they have experienced more often the consequences of sin and redemption.
I have been surprised, in my travels, at how few faculty members in Christian higher education mentor students. When I have asked why, the answer I have heard is: well, that’s for the Dean of the Chapel to do, or that’s the job of the Dean of Students office.
I am an economist, so I appreciate that answer. It is right out of Adam Smith; it appeals to what Adam Smith called the specialization and division of labor.
But I can restrain my enthusiasm for the answer. To me, it means that Christian higher education has professors who are not investing in the lives of students beyond teaching them chemistry and accounting and biology and Spanish.
But you can learn chemistry and accounting and biology and Spanish anywhere; and probably at less cost than in Christian higher education.
To sum up, I am going to personalize what I have been talking about by telling you of my experience during the one time I was not simply a Christian in higher education but was a visiting professor at a school that is a part of Christian higher education. In the spring of 2004, I was a visiting research professor at Pepperdine University.
When I was first being considered for a position at Pepperdine, I spoke with the school’s Provost. That’s appropriate. The provost is the chief academic officer of a school. The provost at every university is supposed to scrutinize who is going to be on the faculty.
In the course of our discussion, the provost of Pepperdine University (who used to be on the faculty here) prayed for me and for my time at Pepperdine. I shall never forget that.
As someone who has taught and done research at a university where provosts do not pray with prospective visiting faculty, I am grateful for Christian higher education where there is this added dimension of collegiality.
From an economist’s perspective, Christian higher education expands the choice set of higher education. Christian institutions make for a more diverse population of institutions to consider. Even students who are not followers of Jesus ought to support the Christian distinctives of the school, if only because of the valuable diversity schools like this one bring to American higher education.
Kenneth G. Elzinga
Kenneth C. Elzinga is the Robert C. Taylor Professor of Economics at the University of Virginia. He delivered the Centennial University Address on Tuesday at Abilene Christian University.
In the weeks since Columbia University’s president, Lee C. Bollinger, introduced his invited guest speaker, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, as a “petty and cruel dictator," the media have been full of support for Bollinger’s treatment of Ahmadinejad. Many of the writers piled on more insults. One prominent blogger described the Iranian president as a “brown-skinned, terrorist-enabling, nuclear-proliferating certifiable nut.”
The we-hate-Ahmadinejad writers were divided on tactics. Some believed Ahmadinejad should never have been invited. Others thought Bollinger handled it right by bringing him into the spotlight and then lashing into him.
The only rebuttal to the hate-Ahmadinejad stance came from a minority -- the writers of perhaps 1 or 2 out of every 10 published letters -- who held that in the interests of academic freedom Ahmadinejad should have been treated politely and allowed to speak.
At my university, we think there is a third way that should have been taken at Columbia. It’s one that has been successfully taken with Iran by our academics, staff and students since the 1990's. It’s called active, but respectful, engagement. We hold our dissenting views. We express our views clearly and with integrity. But we do so in the spirit of transforming conflict rather than pouring fuel onto it. And we do so with the knowledge and humble admission that we, too, are fallible people and that we are part of a fallible nation. While this essay centers on contact with Iranians, this could be a model for how colleges might handle any number of controversial figures who come to their campuses, whether from around the world or down the street.
My small university in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia tends to be better known among people who work at places like the United Nations, World Vision, and Catholic Relief Services than it does among academics at large North American universities. We’re situated in the shadow of James Madison University in Harrisonburg, far from the media circus we saw at Columbia. We have about 1,600 students, two-thirds being liberal arts undergraduates, one-third being graduate students. About half come from faiths other than the pacifistic Mennonite church, including from non-Christian traditions. By virtue of our path-breaking programs in conflict transformation -- through which 3,000 people have passed since 1994 -- EMU is widely known by people around the world working in conflict or immediate post-conflict zones, such as in Croatia, Sudan, Sierra Leone, Nepal, the Philippines and Indonesia. Beginning with relief work after the 1990 earthquake in Iran, EMU and its sister Mennonite agencies have worked hard to earn the trust of Iranians of various persuasions, enabling a unique level of educational exchanges.
On October 9, 2007, two weeks after Ahmadinejad was insulted at Columbia, EMU president Loren Swartzendruber sat near me at a lunch round-table with one of Ahmadinejad’s advisers, Ali Akbar Rezaei, a senior member of Iran’s Foreign Ministry.
Swartzendruber, who holds a doctorate in ministry, opened the lunch with a prayer in which he asked for God’s blessing on the food we were about to eat and on the dialogue we were about to have. Swartzendruber then excused himself from the lunch with Rezaei with the explanation that he was heading to a lunch presentation on building peace through interfaith dialogue, study, and exchange, given by a pastor-scholar who had spent 1997-99 in Qom, Iran, studying Islam as well as Persian language and literature.Yes, it may seem hard to believe, but here in Harrisonburg, Va., we manage to have competing lunch events about Iran!
For Rezaei -- who had been responsible for setting up meetings for Ahmadinejad in New York in September -- this was the beginning of 24 hours of contact with the faculty, staff, and students of our university and its Center for Justice and Peacebuilding. The center houses a master’s-level graduate program that attracts students from around the world. Among its 100 graduate students are 9 from the Middle East, mostly Fulbright students. Some of these students, joined by six Muslim students from other countries, had a meeting with Rezaei in which they respectfully, but frankly, disagreed with most of Rezaei’s characterizations of Iran’s policies, particularly with his description of Iran as a “status quo” state. Rezaei counter-challenged them to not take Fox News about Iran at face value. He encouraged people to come to Iran and see for themselves.
I had met and been impressed by Rezaei seven years ago when he came to my university’s annual Summer Peacebuilding Institute. At the time, he was a young scholar in Iran’s Institute for Political and International Studies. Rezaei took five successive classes, including one on strategic nonviolence and one on inter-religious peacebuilding taught by Marc Gopin, an orthodox Jewish rabbi who is now director of the Center on Religion, Diplomacy and Conflict Resolution at George Mason University.
During the two months that Rezaei was at EMU, his first child was born in Iran, and we all celebrated with him. After his return to Iran, we followed his career with interest. He spent four years in London, working in the Iranian embassy there, and then returned to work in the Foreign Ministry in Tehran as director of the North and Central America Department. On the home front, two more children were born.
It was a pleasure to see Rezaei again after all these years and to see that his intelligence, open-heartedness and curiosity were undiminished. Over the lunch -- attended by more than a dozen faculty and staff members -- Rezaei expressed concern that both the United States and the Islamic world contain an influential minority of people who “think they are 100 percent right, that God is with them, that everyone else is wrong, and that they are the only good guys in the world, so they should impose their views on everyone else.” He noted that those who planned the invasion of Iraq and the men who organized and executed the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the United States demonstrated similar biases in their thought patterns.
Rezaei lamented mutual ignorance about each other’s countries. He said many Iranians view Americans as being uncivilized people who don’t believe in God, who like killing people and who want to eradicate Muslims. He said, “We desperately need ways to overcome this ignorance.”
He didn’t have to articulate how most Americans view Iranians. All of us sitting at that lunch table were painfully aware of the ignorance about Iran in our own society. I had experienced this myself when I visited Iran as part of a Fellowship of Reconciliation delegation of “civilian diplomats” in March. We thought we would be viewed as the “enemy” in Iran. Instead our group of Americans, seeking to exchange ideas with a broad range of Iranians, was extended warm hospitality wherever we went. Since only about 300 Americans have visited Iran this past year, people seemed surprised to hear we were from the United States. And invariably, the first thing out of their mouths was “We love you!” They would sometimes go on to say that we don’t like your president or we don’t like your government, but their feelings about “Americans” were demonstratively warm-hearted.
In the last 18 months, faculty and students from various departments of Eastern Mennonite have taken trips to Iran. Two students attended a human rights conference in Qom in May, giving presentations on human rights from a Christian perspective. One of our seminary professors gave a theological paper at a conference in Iran on messianism. EMU has also hosted a number of Iranian visitors, including several university professors and an Iranian researcher from the University of Tehran, who attended two sessions of the Summer Peacebuilding Institute.
To be sure, there are numerous issues between Iran and the United States that deserve very serious scrutiny. No one is served by naiveté or ignoring those concerns. One of our Indonesian Muslim students raised concerns about Mennonites interacting with Iranian officials in this e-mail message to me:
“I’m writing this e-mail just to ‘remind’ the Mennonites to be careful in building networks and relationships with the Iranian government. Who takes benefit from this ‘peacebuilding project’: Iranians, Mennonites, Muslims, the United States? I am afraid there is a ‘hidden agenda’ behind the meeting.
“They just use the Mennonites to send their ‘peaceful message’ to the American public, while at the same time they produce uranium, discriminate against non-Shi’ite communities and non-Muslims, massacre members of the Baha’i faith, and so on and so forth.
“Last, but not least, hopefully what I was thinking does not happen. Hopefully, by the Mennonites’ intervention, justice and peace will greet Iran, like in the Harrison Ford movie ‘Witness.'"
We in the peacebuilding field cannot know whether eventually “justice and peace will greet Iran,” just as we cannot know whether eventually the United States will choose the path of equitable peace in the world instead of military and economic dominance. But we are certain that to transform conflict and lay the groundwork for a better future, one must treat others the way – yes, to borrow from our holy book (but not the only book to say this) – one would want to be treated. In our conflict transformation program, we teach our students to move toward differences of opinion without fear, dealing with it open-heartedly, rather than trying to suppress or avoid conflict. Iran’s president undoubtedly has his own agenda for promoting exchanges with American colleges and academics, but our agenda is to promote respectful talking and listening, knowing that none of us has a corner on the truth and that each of us views matters through a particular lens. The more effort we make to peer through the lens of the “other,” the less likely we will end up in violent conflict.
Seeking to “practice what I preach,” I was one of about 120 people from a dozen religious groups and institutions who met with Ahmadinejad two days after his speech at Columbia University. Requested by Iranian officials, the meeting was organized by the relief and service agencies of the Mennonites and Quakers, but included Catholics, Episcopalians, Methodists, Christian university leaders, and many others.
During the two-hour session, Ahmadinejad addressed the audience for 20 minutes. Five panel members, selected for their range of perspectives, responded to his speech and asked their own questions. The dialogue covered the differences many of us have with Ahmadinejad, but it was conducted with respect and civility on all sides.
I believe this model is a better one for encouraging positive change – on both sides – than verbal attacks. I agree with the petition circulated by Columbia students, which was signed by 660 people online as of this week, in which the petitioners expressed distress that “inflammatory words were delivered at a time when dialogue with Iran is of the utmost importance in an effort to forestall war.”
One petitioner who identified herself as Alena, class of 2009, in the School of International and Public Affairs at Columbia, wrote: “As someone who grew up in the U.S. State Department world, I was often exposed to how difficult it was for my father to dialogue with leaders with whom he deeply disagreed. However, it was always his imperative to treat others with human dignity and respect and that U.S. Foreign Policy is best served by always having a platform for dialogue. There is always room for decorum and respect – even if you are faced with your worst enemy.”
We in the academic world must always be open to dialogue, which means respectfully listening as well as frankly speaking in a civil manner. I often disagree with positions that President Bush takes, but I would never presume to change his views and behavior through refusing to speak to him or insulting him.
Instead of limiting our choices to, on one hand, treating Ahmadinejad hatefully or, on the other hand, inviting him to speak without rebuttal in the interests of academic freedom, we advocate a third way: respectful, but active, engagement with those with whom one disagrees. This is what Martin Luther King did and wrote about in his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail.” It’s what Gandhi did in India with the British. And it is what Nelson Mandela did with the leaders of the South African regime that jailed him for 27 years.
We advocate this third way both for intellectual and spiritual growth, as well as for combating injustice and achieving peace. Nothing is ever gained by pouring fuel onto a simmering fire.
Pat Hostetter Martin
Pat Hostetter Martin, who holds a masters degree in conflict transformation, is one of the administrators of the Center for Justice and Peacebuilding at Eastern Mennonite University, in Harrisonburg, Va., and director of its 13-year-old Summer Peacebuilding Institute.
In good times and bad over three decades, I have been involved in college financial decision-making as a faculty member and administrator. Whether it was at wealthy institutions like Harvard University or Bowdoin College, places of moderate means like Guilford College or public institutions like Michigan State or the University of Massachusetts, budgeting always involved not enough revenue and too many expenses. Frequently, trying to achieve a balanced budget was equivalent to trying to get 10 pounds of sugar in a 5-pound bag.
Those decisions have become far more difficult in the present economic maelstrom as revenues have deteriorated along with the stock market and tax base and expenses, especially for financial aid, threaten to skyrocket. The difficulty multiplies if the institution uses participatory budgeting processes in which the community from faculty to students gets involved.
Now I lead a college that uses principles from our Quaker heritage to make many decisions including the strategic plan, long range financial plan, and annual budget. Let me disclose that I am a Roman Catholic. As the first non-Quaker chief executive since the college started as a boarding school in 1837, I needed to learn about Quaker principles and practices, and how to apply them in my new role. While only 10 percent of our employees and students formally describe themselves as Quaker, and the community includes many faith traditions, we strive to maintain the principles and practices of our history. We use them for the Board of Trustees and its committees, faculty meeting, and campus committees of every kind including budget. Which might be applicable on your campus? With apologies to Quaker colleagues for probable oversimplifications, let me suggest seven principles as this non-Quaker has experienced them in budgeting and financial decision-making.
(1) Sense of the meeting. With colleges and universities threatened by economic catastrophe, momentous decisions about where to find the revenue and how to spend it loom large. The “sense of the meeting” is equivalent to a decision but is not handled like the typical motion. It arises out of a sense that the truth of a “best” solution exists if we enter discussion with open minds and a willingness to be led by others, even if a proposal is already under consideration. Participants are asked to share their own views, not to characterize or critique the views of others. After identifying themselves if the meeting is large or the membership new, participants frequently are asked to talk once on a topic until others get into the conversation. Although there might be informal ballots, or a show of hands, to see where people stand during the discussion, we never vote. Voting negates the power of the whole group and may lessen the sense of responsibility of the minority.
(2) Decisions by consensus. This does not mean that everyone has to agree but that there is “substantial unity” about what to do. People either endorse the proposal or, if opposed, agree to “stand aside” and not prevent consensus. This principle prevents a majority opinion from dominating the meeting and decision because any one in opposition can refuse to stand aside, prevent consensus, and defeat the proposal. Dissent is viewed as a sign that the truth has not been discerned. This principle encourages respect for the minority, openness to new information, and serious consultation. It does not mean chronic compromise until a common position is reached but a search for truth and how to serve the financial interests of the community most effectively.
(3) Moment of silence. Some Quakers worship in silence and only speak when the “Spirit” moves them. At Guilford, moments of silence open and close many meetings, classes, and events. These moments allow meeting participants to transition from what they were just doing to focus (or “center”) on the purpose of the meeting, and then at the end to transition from the meeting to another activity. I have found that even 30 seconds of silence improves meeting participation and productivity. It helps students in the political science class I teach every spring even more because of their hectic lives and shorter attention spans. The same benefit accrues to budget and trustee finance committees and senior staff. Moments of silence assist in centering on seemingly intractable financial issues amidst economic tumult and everything else that competes for their interest.
(4) Queries. Decisions about tuition and fees, endowment spending, employee salaries, and other budget items result from complex strategic, financial, political, and other factors that are too often implicit rather than explicit. “Queries” are questions with no simple or standard answers that promote self- and group examination through inward reflection. Queries remind us that our actions are proper because they are done thoughtfully and conscientiously and not because they conform to abstract rules. For example, a budget committee might ask itself as it neared consensus on the annual budget: What have you done to balance the financial needs of your own work or department with the financial needs of the entire college? How do you work to influence investments of college assets toward socially desirable ends, avoiding speculation and activities wasteful or harmful to others? Do you assume your fair share of financial support? Do you support the concept of inter-generational equity that avoids meeting today’s needs by selling assets or irresponsible borrowing that mortgage the college’s future?
(5) Influence of testimonies. Core values are the essential and enduring tenets of the organization that guide decision-making and behavior. A budget might be guided by the core value of “sustainability” in support of environmental investment or “stewardship” to ensure that maintenance was not deferred. Quaker testimonies—simplicity, peace, integrity, community, and equality— are the equivalent of core values with even more emphasis on living them in practice. Here is how I have witnessed testimonies influencing budgets.
“Simplicity” contributes to lean budgets and plain speech during debates.
“Peace” is not only about opposition to wars but also the peaceful resolution of conflict and seeing good — something of God — in all people. Thus, participants in financial decisions might question your position but not your motives, and strive to create a budget without threatening speech or unruly behavior.
“Integrity” means that the budget is clear, factual, and genuinely funds the obligations of the institution, and that the process is obvious to everyone.
“Community” argues for participative decision-making and involvement of faculty, staff, and students. A budget that serves community reflects campus input and is transparent in terms of actions and analysis.
“Equality” recognizes differences in responsibility and authority but treats participants in the budgeting process more for the expertise and experience they bring than their rank or position. Almost everyone is called by first names to show equality. A budget debate can be more spirited and honest when I am called “Kent” rather than “President Chabotar.”
(6) Eldering. This technique most often involves a committee of experienced members trying to counsel participants who might be disruptive, absent too often, come unprepared, and other unproductive behavior. In one budget committee, a member always turned the discussion to a personal concern about student fees no matter what the topic on the agenda. To paraphrase Churchill, he would not change his mind or the subject. Being advised by peers outside of the meeting greatly improved behavior and made him more productive and less alienated. Eldering might also occur when the committee queries why colleagues are opposed to a proposal and what it will take them to approve it, or at least stand aside. The chair may call a time out during a discussion or an early adjournment to permit tempers to subside, thoughtful reflection, and opportunities for eldering. Another standard Quaker admonition helped in this and many other fiscal situations: “Think it possible that you may be mistaken.”
(7) Friend speaks my mind. Grandstanding and repetitious remarks slow down the meeting and prevent members from discerning the truth. Instead, when you agree with someone you say simply “Friend speaks my mind” and sit down. Quakers are officially known as the Religious Society of Friends but a Catholic like me or anyone can be a Friend at a meeting. You can also say, “I agree.” This not only saves time but also allows the chair and others to gauge more accurately the sense of the meeting.
The most recent use of Quaker principles occurred last fall 2008 when the trustees, administration, and budget committee worked together to deal with a burgeoning budget deficit for the current fiscal year largely caused by actual and projected enrollment shortfalls. We developed three budget scenarios of increasing pessimism, picked the “worse case” scenario, and cut $2.7 million from the budget including the elimination of 20 faculty and staff positions. Developing consensus on these difficult choices required skilled chairs guiding discussion to a sense of the meeting, participants eldering others to address concerns and gain acceptance, and moments of silence to center ourselves before engaging in honest debates in the context of our core values and testimonies. Thankfully, enrollment has been much better than expected. We may restore some of the reductions, starting with employee pay increases, the possibility of which was anticipated and given top priority in the fall process.
At a time of international crisis in which colleges and universities are under unprecedented financial stress, others might also try a decision-making approach that Quakers have used with success for over three hundred years. It has worked for me for almost seven years. None of these principles guarantees an effective committee or a balanced budget. All are subject to abuse or mistakes. Nevertheless, the process that results encourages more inclusive budgeting in which facts rule, participants listen to each other and are open to new ideas, and people take their time to do right. Try one or all seven and perhaps you too will say, “Friend speaks my mind.”
Kent John Chabotar
Kent John Chabotar is president and professor of political science at Guilford College.
While Trinity is thriving, we are part of a sector of American higher education that is increasingly under siege. The nation’s 245 Roman Catholic colleges and universities are heirs to more than a century of progressive efforts to win acceptance in the mainstream of the American academy. The hard and thoughtful work of numerous Catholic scholars and educational leaders in the middle of the 20th century modernized the governance, curricula and scholarly frameworks of our institutions. The previous great generation of Catholic academic and intellectual leaders --- including such luminaries as Jesuit Father John Courtney Murray, Monsignor John Tracy Ellis, former Notre Dame President Father Theodore Hesburgh, and Trinity’s own President Sister Margaret Claydon -- moved Catholic higher education out of the insular, parochial consequences of this nation’s 19th and early 20th century anti-Catholic, anti-intellectual propensities.
These great leaders of the Vatican II era developed a rich and extensive body of thought supporting the fundamental premise that our faith should not fear freedom, but rather, embrace it; that we must engage with our culture, not shun it; and that Catholic universities must have the same high intellectual standards as all universities, nurturing academic freedom as the bedrock of excellence in scholarship and teaching. The progressive influence of Catholic higher education in the last 50 years propelled lay Catholics into the mainstream of our nation’s social and political life, opening doors to places where once we were held in suspicion or even barred because of rampant religious discrimination.
Today, a half century of progress for Catholic higher education is at risk of slipping back into those insular, parochial pre-Vatican II days. On Sunday, on the campus of the University of Notre Dame, a drama unfolded that will affect the future of all Catholic colleges, and, indeed, will affect the place of Catholics in American life. As has been a tradition at the University of Notre Dame, the president of the United States spoke at the university’s commencement.
Notre Dame has invited many presidents in the past without fear or favor regarding their political positions. But the announcement of President Obama’s appearance triggered one of the angriest and most aggressively hostile efforts to block a commencement speaker ever endured by any American university. The fundamental issue is about the Church’s teachings on the right to life and the contrary policies of the Obama Administration. But there’s more to the Notre Dame case than the obvious clash between religious dogma and secular politics.
This is not about bishops exercising their rightful responsibilities to call Catholic institutions to fidelity to Church teachings. Nor is this about the right of individual Catholics to voice concerns about institutional actions. Disagreement and passionate argumentation are a normal part of university life, and religion sharpens the edges of any debate about university activities. For all Catholic universities, close and continuous dialogue with our bishops is an essential part of our stewardship of the Catholic intellectual tradition; Catholic college presidents frequently must exercise prudential judgment in making sure that the local bishop is not surprised by the appearance, if not the reality of dissent from Church teachings in university activities.
But something else is at work in the Notre Dame case.
The real scandal at Notre Dame today is not that the president of the United States spoke at commencement, albeit causing some controversy among Catholics. The real scandal is the misappropriation of sacred teachings for political ends. The real scandal is the spectacle of ostensibly Catholic mobs camping out at Notre Dame for the specific purpose of disrupting the commencement address of the nation’s first African American president. This ugly spectacle is an embarrassment to all Catholics. The face that Catholicism shows to our new president should be one marked with the sign of peace, not distorted in the snarl of hatred.
The religious vigilantism apparent in the Notre Dame controversy arises from organizations that have no official standing with the Church, but who are successful in gaining media coverage as if they were speaking for Catholicism. The media loves nothing more than a good Catholic versus Catholic fight, a self-destructive civil war that has no winners save the anti-Catholic underground that finds joy and vindication in watching Catholics strangle each other with litmus tests about fidelity. The self-appointed “watchdogs” of Catholic higher education also afflict Catholics in political life, acting as grand inquisitors who appear to want nothing more than to drive all Catholics away from public office. They have established themselves as uber-guardians of a belief system we can hardly recognize. Theirs is a narrow faith devoted almost exclusively to one issue. They defend the rights of the unborn but have no charity toward the living. They mock social justice as a liberal mythology.
Catholicism is not a one-issue faith. The social justice teachings that are central to our Church’s moral construction demand that we act in defense of the sacred dignity of all human life, from conception through salvation. Ours is a faith that demands peace and decries unjust war even as we demand that the unborn child have a right to live --- not mere life, but a life that can realize the full potential of the Creator’s divine plan as a matter of justice. Ours is a faith that is profoundly intolerant of racism and the exploitation of women, of poverty and the violence that economic injustice spawns. Ours is a faith that demands a more just sharing of the world’s resources, more pervasive global education to remediate the illiteracy that condemns children to repeat the cycles of poverty of prior generations. Ours is a faith that finds the use of torture for any reason an abhorrent offense against life. Ours is a faith that calls each member to take the option for the poor, to stand in solidarity with our brothers and sisters on this planet, to exercise the responsibilities of our citizenship fully, to honor the rights and dignity of workers, to be moral stewards of God’s creation --- all in the name of life. This is what it really means to be “pro-life.”
Catholicism is a faith of charity and hope, not hatred, bigotry, self-righteous condemnation. To be Catholic is to embrace the world in all of the remarkable diversity that is part of creation; to be a university is also to embrace the world in the fullness of its intellectual scope and in the endlessness of the human quest for knowledge, meaning and, ultimately, Truth. A Catholic university realizes that the differences of opinion that are the plain reality of human thought are not at all a danger to our faith, but rather, a manifestation of the freedom that God has given to every human being to think, to learn, to engage the quest for that Truth that can never be fully known in this life. Those who claim to know the Truth already claim a power that is God’s alone.
The terrible danger of the siege at Notre Dame, and the ugly specter of Catholic vigilantism’s efforts to intimidate Catholic academic leaders and politicians, is that Catholics will be driven back to the edges of American life, unable or unwilling to be elected to public office, as we once were, unable or unwilling to engage with our colleagues of other faith traditions in the difficult, bruising, uncomfortable yet utterly necessary debates about essential moral issues that contribute to the shape of our society.
The great opportunity in the Notre Dame controversy is the renewal of our commitment to the robust intellectual life of Catholic colleges and universities as the best possible means to ensure the vitality of our faith in public life. If we live the duality of our mission well, neither our freedom nor our faith will suffer harm, and both will be enlarged.
This is a mission that calls us to create campus communities that respect the human person; to minister to the spiritual as well as intellectual needs of these communities; to ensure that the teachings of the Church are fairly and accurately presented. Fidelity to those teachings does not require shunning all other forms of expression. We should make even greater use of the teachable moments when the clash of ideas reveals the need for better research and scholarship on the most critical issues we face, not just as Catholics but as citizens of a very complicated society. Catholic institutions of higher education should be contributing significantly more research and scholarship than we have thus far on those core issues where faith and politics collide: the right to life, economic and social justice, universal education, environmental destruction, equal justice, keeping the peace.
We live our mission as Catholic universities in the sunlight, not in caves; we teach and learn from the center of the culture, not on the margins. Evangelization’s best work occurs in uncharted territories among those who do not share our faith already. We engage every human being who is a child of God and part of his creation; and whether we agree or disagree with that person, every child of God belongs on our campuses. And when that child happens to be the president of the United States, so much the better for the fruitful opportunity to open new avenues of dialogue about the future breadth and depth and moral foundation and legal construction of that Good Society we so earnestly seek.
Here at Trinity, let us take from the controversy at Notre Dame a renewed commitment to give witness to the fullness of our faith tradition, not indulging the moral relativism of repressing faith for the sake of getting along, nor cowering in fear of the moral absolutists who would have us hear no voices but their own. As a Catholic college with a long and proud tradition of educating leaders for the public sector, with a mission commitment to action for social justice that comes to us from our founders, the Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur, we must not shy away from using our intellectual firepower to push the current debate away from the self-destructive precipice of Catholics set against Catholics. We must lead this debate toward the more life-giving mission in true Christian evangelization, teaching all nations the imperatives of justice and peace through which human life will, most assuredly, reap significantly greater protection than the current intractable arguments will ever achieve on their own.
Patricia McGuire is president of Trinity Washington University. This essay is adapted from the commencement address she delivered Sunday to the Trinity Class of 2009.
In a way that Roman Catholic educational pioneers such as Ignatius Loyola or John Baptiste de La Salle could never have imagined, colleges and universities today have been transformed from essentially charitable endeavors to merchants in an increasingly competitive marketplace. As such, they necessarily elbow one another, seeking prestige and status, building shiny new lifestyle facilities and, when they can afford it, hiring away faculty stars to twinkle in their academic firmament.
A generation or two into this changed landscape, an institution like Manhattan College, where I am an adjunct in religious studies, struggles to retain its original collaborative values while needing to sell its educational product in a buyers' market. Getting the balance right has significant moral implications for its collective soul.
For when colleges become self-interested market actors, they join the societal shift away from fostering the communitarian values that even Adam Smith, the Apostle of capitalism, saw as a necessary counterbalance to a freewheeling market economy. In his book The Theory of Moral Sentiments, Smith called for counterbalancing our natural ambition and competitive striving with an empathetic observing conscience. He called this agent of balance an "impartial spectator" that would help guarantee a decent society in which the products of individual labor could be fairly traded. For left up to nature alone, the laboring classes drift toward indentured servitude, unable to bargain for or receive the fair exchange for their service that befits moral decency.
One cannot help but wonder, then, what such an impartial spectator might make today of a Catholic institution of higher education, expressly committed to "social justice," waging an expensive legal struggle to prevent its numerous adjunct faculty from bargaining collectively as a union.
Such a conscientious observer would, I expect, be wondering why Manhattan College is turning its back on more than 100 years of Catholic social teaching and its recognition that, for individuals to be able to trade their labor fairly, they can and should do so "in solidarity" with their fellows. For without unions, individuals remain outmatched whether they are in the mines, on the assembly line, or in classrooms. One by one, they cannot benefit from the checks and balances that help assure that the "invisible hand" of the market does not ride roughshod over the less powerful.
Thus "solidarity" for workers has been seen as a natural, moral outgrowth of the ancient Christian notion of koinonia, of "communion" that helps us overcome our natural tendency to self-serving individualism. At least that is the way that Karol WojtyÅ‚a saw it, and, when he became Pope John Paul II, he programmed that notion into the body of social teaching that began to develop 90 years earlier with Pope Leo XIII’s Rerum Novarum ("On Revolutions") back in 1891.
In John Paul’s own encyclical Laborem Exercens ("On Human Work"), he made it clear that in the historical conflict between labor and employers, the Catholic church has always held to the principle of the priority of labor. This follows from the moral orientation of capital, or private equity, to the common good, a principal that nonprofit organizations have often exempted themselves from as if the lack of a formal profit motive removed them from the exigencies of social justice.
But in setting out the rights of workers, then, the pope also wrote of the social evil of underemployment when workers do not receive the kind of payment for their labor that allows them to maintain a family and provide for some future security. And in this context, he explicitly promoted the right of association by which workers could form unions, a right he broadly construed because he wanted to assure that social justice and the common good be promoted as widely as possible.
Observing the academic marketplace today, as a venue for the fair trading of academic labor, an impartial spectator might well ask, "Who is less powerful and more naturally the subject of the right to association than individual adjunct faculty members?" For collectively adjunct faculty members know that they represent a labor force without which American higher education could not function for a day.
But as individuals, they have little choice but to trade their labor inequitably. Like medieval tradesmen not members of a guild, they ply their trade singly, selling their skills door-to-door, armed with the dignity of their intellectual commitments, their other-than-academic experience, and their calling to teach. But individually they have no fellows, no community to call their own or to take their part.
Now in a purely Dickensian model of the educational marketplace, one might observe, "That’s the way the cookie crumbles!" But this lone purveyor of religious studies wishes to inquire whether a Catholic institution of higher education should not be held to a higher standard. Should it be expected to shelter behind a screen of its Catholic identity to exempt it from a least common denominator standard of social justice promoted by the National Labor Relations Board? A reading of Catholic social teaching suggests otherwise to me.
As would a reading of the surpassing standard of justice urged by Jesus in his most challenging sermon. That standard hardly ranks as minimal, but rather as maximal, excessive even. Turning the other check, walking the extra mile, and giving your shirt as well as the coat they sued you for (Matthew 5: 39-41) do not counsel surrender; they reveal a different and challenging standard of justice that the marketplace has yet to come close to absorbing. And while even an observant conscience might not apply such a standard in all circumstances, for Manhattan College to employ a phalanx of lawyers to stop adjunct faculty from associating as a union to improve their livelihood seems to fall far below what the Author of the above-referenced sermon might expect.
Paul Dinter is adjunct professor of religious studies at Manhattan College.
Joshua Wolff raises an array of issues regarding the place of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender persons in Christian higher education in his provocative article, "Where 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' Remains." He raises the stakes for this discussion by calling for the weight of professional opinion to be combined with the fiduciary oversight of accreditation agencies to challenge the way religious institutions of higher education handle matters of sexuality.
Wolff gets a number of things right. The special needs of sexual minority individuals present a particular challenge for religiously conservative institutions. Such individuals have the right to expect that their needs will be handled with care, dignity, professionalism, sensitivity, and compassion. Without question, there have been glaring failures in handling such needs at these institutions, and there is considerable unevenness in the competence with which such issues are handled.
Wolff presents a narrative of fear in his article, "constant fear that I would be dismissed for having the courage to live my life with integrity and honesty as a gay man." He describes his fear that any disclosure or discussion of his emerging understanding of his sexuality would result in dismissal, given his college’s Student Code of Conduct.
Wheaton College in Illinois, where I serve as provost, has a moral code called the Community Covenant, one similar to that of Wolff’s alma mater. Our Covenant (and his college’s code) are based on and shaped by a traditional understanding of the comprehensive moral teachings of the Bible, including but not exclusively focused on the Bible's teaching on sexual morality. I know from personal conversations and relationships the fear of disclosure that some students experience, but also have had numerous conversations with sexual minority students without the feared ramifications that Wolff cites constraining the interaction. While there may be many narratives of fear and of being "driven into the closet" that emerge from religiously conservative settings, there also are many contrasting narratives that are not being heard in non-religious academe.
Wesley Hill has recently published his account of a process of self-discovery and exploration similar to that of Wolff while Hill was a student at Wheaton College in his bookWashed and Waiting: Reflections on Christian Faithfulness and Homosexuality. His narrative serves as an interesting contrast to Wolff’s. Hill understood the pastoral intent of our institution, and understood rightly that, with regard to homosexual conduct, there were two primary dimensions of our shared Community Covenant that were relevant to his situation: a) a conviction that the Christian Scriptures teach that homosexual conduct is not a moral option for the confessing Christian seeking to follow Christ wholeheartedly, and b) therefore that it needed to be his individual commitment to not engage in homosexual conduct as a member of our community during his time as a student.
Neither of these convictions prevented honest discussion, community support, and exploration of his sexuality while at our institution. Hill selectively and judiciously disclosed his emerging sense of his sexuality to numerous faculty, administrators, and support staff. His experiences were not universally positive; he was witness to and hurt by instances of insensitive and callous reactions. Such experiences are ubiquitous for sexual minority individuals. Nevertheless, his predominant experience was one of support and care.
Hill found our community to be one in which he could honestly engage these issues, discuss their complexities, test the veracity of the traditional understanding of Scripture, and receive support as a fellow disciple of Christ. He is now finishing a Ph.D. in New Testament studies, and lives as a celibate gay Christian. He has emerged, as do many, from this time of engagement and examination supportive of the moral framework of the Scriptures and of our institution’s summary of them. We have, of course, other students who embark on similar trajectories of exploration, concluding later that they do not fully support our institution’s stance.
There is no lack of clarity to what Wolff believes are the lessons from his experience. He urges that institutional policies like ours be challenged and changed. He does so, quoting Wolff, on the putative basis that such policies a) force students to "lie about who they are," b) "discriminate" by sending "the message to prospective and current students that 'if you are gay, you do not belong here,' " c) "use religion to hide from accountability for policies and programs that can cause psychological harm," and d) use "religious freedoms" as a pretext to oppress or discriminate against GLBTQ persons.
These arguments can only be addressed after clarifying a number of foundational issues. First, many caricature institutions like ours as "forcing" individuals to sign creedal statements. This is far from the intent or reality of our institutions. Formed out of and sustained by the conviction that deep religious conviction is compatible with and felicitous toward academic and intellectual excellence, institutions like ours seek to be voluntary communities of like-minded individuals who, within the framework of our defining characteristics, have the academic freedom to teach and to pursue knowledge as communities of persons of shared religious conviction, as my former president, Duane Litfin, recently argued. The defining characteristics of such religious communities, particularly in the Christian tradition, are both theological and moral. The entire matrix of our faith demands a connection between creedal belief and the lived realities of our lives. Thus, to the bafflement of the non-religious community, we embrace as standards for our communities both theological and moral commitments congruent with our faith.
Many insist that the acceptance of GLBTQ persons entails the repudiation of moral censure of homosexual conduct and of many other sexual restrictions as well. This is of course an area of controversy and challenge today for all religious communities. Out of the ferment of these discussions over the last four decades, an interesting academic consensus has emerged. Contrary to popular understanding, the best scholars today — even many who don’t accept Scripture as authoritative for morality today — almost universally agree that the clear teaching of the Christian Scriptures is that intimate homosexual conduct is morally unacceptable. No less of a central figure in 20th century Christian systematic theology than Wolfhart Pannenberg stated that "The biblical assessments of homosexual practice are unambiguous in their rejection."
This has by no means settled the issue. Scholars and church leaders such as Luke Timothy Johnson have explicitly acknowledged that moral disapproval of homosexual conduct is the teaching of Scripture, and that therefore Scripture is wrong and must be bypassed for the sake of some higher good. Traditional Roman Catholics, Orthodox, and Protestants, however, feel no such latitude to conclude that Scripture is wrong, but accept the teaching of Scripture as the highest standard and hence morally binding.
Based on this understanding of the morality of homosexual conduct, many religious traditionalists question the formulation of sexual identity implicit in Wolff's argument. On the one hand, we dissent from the presumption that one’s sexual attractions and identifications must be lived out in behavior to have meaning. Thus, an individual can both have a stable sense of same-sex attraction and a commitment to chastity based on choosing compliance to the moral teachings of Scripture. We have just, on this basis, welcomed back to campus our alumnus Wesley Hill to address our entire student body, who describes himself as "a nonpracticing but still-desiring homosexual Christian." Such individuals are not required to lie about themselves.
On the other hand, traditionalists also dissent from the inclination so common today to accept the anchoring of one's entire identity around sexual orientation. The very depiction in Wolff's article of GLBTQ individuals as a discrete class, as if their sexual inclinations and orientations were the linchpin of their very being, is made problematic in the context of religious commitments that demand higher allegiance.
Contemporary scientific research lends further credence to that hesitancy on this point. Despite the common presumption that sexual orientation is directly analogous to skin color or race, an analogy invoked frequently in the cause of advancing GLBTQ advocacy, and despite the presumption that sexual orientation is genetically caused, the reality is that we still know little about the origins and causes of sexual orientation.
The latest and most rigorous behavioral genetics identical twin study by Långström, Rahman, Carlström, and Lichtenstein confounds much of our presumed wisdom about the etiology of sexual orientation, with only 7 out of 71 male identical twin pairs from the enormous Swedish Twin Registry matching for homosexual orientation. This finding led the researchers to conclude that genetic influence on etiology is modest at best, and likely secondary to familial and environmental influences. This conclusion is at variance with some contemporary summaries of what we know about etiology, but as I have argued in the current issue of the American Psychological Association Division 1 newsletter, the problem here is that these summaries poorly reflect the state of scientific knowledge. We know little for certain, from a scientific perspective, about how sexual orientation establishes the "core" of a person.
As a final foundational issue, Wolff raises the legitimate question of harm to GLBTQ individuals engendered by stigma and negative responses. He offers his own anecdotes of pain and fear, but though such concerns must be taken with great seriousness, his analysis here, as well as his more extensive analysis in his companion co-authored study, suffers from a gap in the evidence. His study presents the widely acknowledged evidence of psychological distress and difficulty in GLBTQ populations, and then alleges but fails to establish a causal connection between these problems and the Christian higher education environment. The recent task force report of the American Psychological Association similarly attributed psychological distress and difficulty to contextual stigmatization without being able to demonstrate a causal connection, as I have recently argued.
With this background, we can return to examine Wolff's "recommendations for religious programs." Such religious programs do indeed differ from the status quo in higher education on these and other dimensions. When religious institutions have carefully and thoughtfully formulated their policies, and when they have enlisted the thoughtful participation of the entire religious community in a caring implementation of those policies, the result will not be that of forcing students to lie about who they are. Rather, the communities can be places where honest and caring engagement with the deepest questions of personal identity can be examined in light of the realities of our common brokenness and common humanity.
The thoughtful examination of religious tradition and authority in the context of an honest engagement with contemporary cultural issues may allow for the fullest examination possible of these complex issues. The unpacking of our deepest human obligations, however they are construed, can be fostered in the context of a caring community. Our religious institutions of higher learning can become places exemplary in their commitment to transparency about their religious commitments and their implications for sexual minority individuals.
The existence of moral boundaries, properly understood, challenges all of humanity and not just sexual minority individuals. Thus, far from projecting "if you are gay, you do not belong here," we can strive to properly understand and communicate about our communities as fellowships or communities of sojourners striving with the limitations and brokenness of our common humanity.
Religiously distinctive educational communities, once common in the Western world, are now a tiny minority, and the legitimacy of our very existence is questionable in the minds of some. Far from using religious freedoms as a pretext to oppress or discriminate against GLBTQ persons, after careful review and years of debate, many traditionalists have reaffirmed that moral concern about homosexual conduct and about all sexual intimacy outside of marriage is well grounded in the theological and moral core of Christian faith. Similar conclusions have been drawn in traditionalist Jewish, Islamic, and Buddhist contexts as well.
The majority in academe may not share such views or find them reasonable; some find the very postulation of moral boundaries on sexual acts between consenting adults to be offensive. But to push aside institutions anchored in discrete religious traditions based on provocative anecdotes like Wolff's, or on any compilation of anecdotes, is a challenge to the religious liberty of these communities, a challenge to their fundamental right and capacity to self definition.
The protection of the religious freedoms of religious scholars, and of institutions that are voluntary communities composed of such scholars, is vital to the integrity of higher education itself if it fashions itself as truly valuing academic freedom, as a true marketplace of ideas. And it would be ironic in the extreme if, in the name of the inalienable right to self definition of individuals (GLBTQ persons) and of communities (of sexual minorities), the same inalienable rights of persons of religious faith to self definition were curtailed. As the respected Yale University philosopher Nicholas Wolterstorff has argued, "It would be a violation of the very idea of a liberal democratic society if a movement arose to prevent or restrict the formation of religiously-based colleges and universities. To prevent or restrict their formation would violate freedom of religion, freedom of speech, and freedom of assembly."
Wolff speaks as if all of academe is of one mind on these issues. It is not. Better that we foster reasoned discussion on the complexities of these unresolved matters than that we silence dissenting voices with accusations of prejudice, abuse, or oppression.
Stanton L. Jones
Stanton L. Jones, is provost and professor of psychology at Wheaton College in Illinois.