The Economy of University Prestige
Written by James M. Patterson |
Thursday, February 15, 2024
Prestige relates to money in that prestigious schools attract more grants and donations, because of their excellent students and also the eagerness of wealthy donors to have their children admitted. As a result, these institutions can spend money on fine arts programs, more faculty, better student services, and better facilities. Low-prestige universities often have to focus on budgets, which may mean opting for low-prestige signals like merging departments or relying on contingent faculty.
No doubt many conservatives, especially those in higher education, have been clinking glasses at the news that Claudine Gay has resigned after a short and undistinguished presidency at Harvard University. Gay was responsible for the mistreatment of conservative scholars at Harvard and rose through the ranks of higher education by trading on her identity while putting out plagiarized scholarship. There has been plenty of analysis of the specific instances of plagiarism and their relative severity. What is interesting, however, is that none of this seems to have anything to do with being a good president of a university.
What does a university president do? First, the president raises money. Second, the president is the face of the university. Whenever there is a problem, she is the one who appears on television, meets with faculty, and takes calls from donors and important alumni. Presidents are not the final authority on most things, and they almost never handle student or faculty controversies the way some conservative commentators seem to think they do. A university president is doing her job when she is raking in the cash and representing the university well. In the end, Gay was doing neither. While Harvard was never going to close, she had upset enough donors that she was, on balance, a problem rather than an asset for fundraising. She had put on a bad face for the university, starting with her December 5 appearance before the Committee on Education & the Workforce alongside Liz Magill, former president of the University of Pennsylvania.
Magill stepped down a mere six days after the appearance. Only a few months before, Marc Tessier-Lavigne resigned from Stanford University after the discovery that he had misrepresented his research. All these resignations have two factors in common: money and prestige.
The Prestige Economy
Money and prestige are the two currencies of higher education. They are related but distinct. For a university, money is not just tuition revenue, but also grants, donations, and endowments. A university that relies entirely on tuition is poor and, in this climate, likely to close. Grants are discrete allocations of money for particular research or teaching roles, such as those given by the National Science Foundation or the Ford Foundation. Donations are usually from wealthy individuals with specific intentions attached to them, such as to pay for a new dormitory or fund a new music school. Endowments are collections of funds that the university invests that can be used for a rainy day or a major expansion.
Prestige is difficult to define, but it requires a good reputation combined with highly selective admissions. Universities can acquire good reputations by graduating excellent students, but they can also acquire them by attracting the sons and daughters of elites. The latter often wins one the title of a “finishing school,” but finishing schools still deal with elites in ways that less prestigious institutions simply do not. Contemporary elite universities do both—mixing incredibly talented students with scions of the upper crust.
Prestige relates to money in that prestigious schools attract more grants and donations, because of their excellent students and also the eagerness of wealthy donors to have their children admitted. As a result, these institutions can spend money on fine arts programs, more faculty, better student services, and better facilities. Low-prestige universities often have to focus on budgets, which may mean opting for low-prestige signals like merging departments or relying on contingent faculty.
Over the past few years, I have become increasingly baffled at how little of this conservative commentators understand. Conservatives often joke about the irrelevance of higher education by quoting Sayre’s law, “The politics of the university are so intense because the stakes are so low.” Nothing could be further from the truth. Universities house scholars, whose work is both in research and the formation of students. If conservatives have no place in higher education, there will be no conservative scholarship and very few conservative students. Indeed, the falsehood of Sayre’s Law is evident in the intensity and coverage of the Magill and Gay fiascos. Conservatives understand that there is something at stake here, but they do not understand what it is. Let me explain.
Car Dealers vs. New Dealers
The source of this ignorance is what I call the “Car Dealer vs. New Dealer problem.” Most American conservatives are middle class or aspire to the middle class, and, as a result, share a “car dealer” view of the world. The car dealer is a successful business owner. He is usually one of the wealthier people in town, and he makes other people rich too—by advertising on local media, hiring employees, and investing in local enterprises. To ensure success, the car dealer must constantly manage finances by finding new investment opportunities and cutting losses. That means gathering market data, firing underperforming staff, and seeking out innovation for increasing sales. The car dealer provides for the common good of those around him because of self-interest, and he assumes that others do the same. This worldview could not be worse for succeeding in higher education. Why is that?
Car dealers cannot commit to anything in the long term. Short-term losses are signals to the car dealer that it is time to pull up stakes and minimize losses, and the costs imposed on those affected are simply part of how the world works. This mentality is what often prevails among American Christian higher education institutions. If we view higher education through the car dealer paradigm, education becomes a service for sale, while students are the consumers, administrators the management, and faculty the labor. Under this model, the primary source of income is tuition, so tuition dictates low-prestige education that diverts the college away from its mission. Meanwhile, faculty in prestige-generating majors are sidelined, encouraged to retire, or downsized.
Most conservative colleges are Christian liberal arts colleges, many of which are struggling to stay afloat. At these struggling American Christian colleges, the majors in greatest demand are primarily in education, business, and nursing—the fields that appear to have the readiest application to real-world employment. Hence, car dealer administrators will divert ever-dissipating resources toward these high-cost programs, often at the expense of the core liberal arts disciplines that are central to the stated mission of the college. Because leaders at Christian colleges do not coordinate decisions, they all make these same decisions at the same time, meaning that they are now fighting over the same students, which in turn means no one gains the enrollment bump they expected. Moreover, students in these majors often graduate into fields with solid employment possibilities and lower salaries. (A notable exception is nursing—although nursing is in greater demand outside of the areas where most Christian liberal arts colleges are.) I am regularly surprised by how little incoming students and their parents know about the demand for conservative graduates to work in prestigious, high-earning positions that would enable them to live religious lives.
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Why We (Should) Read the Bible
Let us not read God’s Word for self-promotion, self-justification, or self-improvement. Rather, may we approach Scripture as those who love God and desire to know Him more, as those who desire transformation into the image of Christ, and as those who know that the Holy Spirit uses the Word to strengthen His people to endure to the end.
As a newly saved college student, I stumbled across Jeremiah 15:16 in my Bible reading:
Your words were found, and I ate them,and your words became to me a joy and the delight of my heart, for I am called by your name, O LORD, God of hosts.
This vivid depiction of the happiness that springs up in the heart from taking in God’s Word deeply resonated with my newfound faith and my newfound delight in reading the Bible.
God’s Word is precious to believers. Yet because of the indwelling sin that remains in us, we can be tempted to do good things for the wrong reasons. What then, should be our motives and goals when we come to God’s Word? I’d like to suggest three. As Jeremiah ate the words of the Lord, so too can we as we approach Scripture for the purposes of awe, transformation, and endurance.
1. Awe
An encounter with the God of the universe can’t help but produce awe and wonder in those to whom He reveals Himself. He is glorious and majestic, unlike anyone or anything else:
The LORD reigns; he is robed in majesty . . . Mightier than the thunders of many waters, mightier than the waves of the sea, the LORD on high is mighty!” (Ps. 93:1, 4)
His greatness is unsearchable, and He is glorious, splendid, and majestic (see Ps. 145:3, 5). Holy Scripture is how we come to better know the God who has called us to Himself.
To be sure, our Bible reading won’t always evoke the degree of awe from us that is due Him. But through the work of the Holy Spirit, God can and does draw us into a deeper knowledge of Himself that results in true worship and greater love for Him. We marvel at His power and His wisdom (see Ps. 62:11; Rom. 16:27). We are comforted by His love and His sovereignty (see 1 John 3:1; Eph. 1:11). Therefore, one proper motivation for reading the Bible is to be drawn into a deeper knowledge of—and therefore deeper awe, appreciation, love, and gratitude for—its Author.
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We Can Always Trust Our Word-Keeping God
Because of what Christ has done for us, we desire to image and reflect him in the words we say. We want to think before we speak and consider the consequences of what would happen if we don’t keep our word (Prov. 29:20, James 1:19) We desire to follow through on the words we say and apologize when we let someone down. We hesitate to make commitments we know we can’t keep. If we know we can’t follow through on our promises, we refrain from making them.
Have you ever had someone tell you they would do something for you and then fail to deliver? Perhaps it was a co-worker upon whose work you depended, and when he didn’t follow through, you were left hanging with more work to do. Maybe it was a friend who many times in the past told you, “Let’s meet for coffee.” Yet, every time you initiate a meet-up, she can never commit. Or maybe someone in your family promised multiple times to work with you on a project, and it still lies there unfinished.
Whatever the commitment, when someone commits to something and doesn’t follow through—doesn’t keep their word—we are left disappointed. In some situations, it may leave us in a difficult situation. Or worse. When people let us down multiple times, we begin to question and distrust the things they say. Often, we find ourselves depending on that person less and less.
In my own life, I’ve certainly experienced this. I’ve expected friends, family, or co-workers to follow through on something they promised and felt let down when they didn’t. I felt disappointed. I was left burdened. In some cases, it created a barrier in my relationship with that person. Trust was broken—one of the hardest things in life to rebuild.
Thankfully, we have a word-keeping God.
For those who have been hurt or let down by those who have not kept their word, there is good news. There is one who will never fail to keep his word. There is one we can always trust to fulfill his promises: our word-keeping God.
God only has to speak and worlds come into being (Gen. 1:1). His word is powerful; even the wind and rain respond to his command (Mark 4:39). His word never returns void; it always accomplishes his purposes for it (Isa. 55:11). He makes promises and never fails to keep them.
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Beware the Leaven of the Pharisees
The danger of legalism lurks wherever we would relax God’s law from its high-as-heaven standard, dragging it down to a standard low enough for us to keep. Beware the leaven of the Pharisees! The painful truth is that none of us can reach God’s perfect standard. Rather, before his standard, we must tremble, crying out, “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Rom. 7:24).
In every age, the church must be vigilant to avoid legalism. We must never be like the Pharisees, who “tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger” (Matt. 23:24). God tells us that his commandments are not burdensome (1 John 5:3), but to add to God’s commandments would indeed be burdensome.
The danger of legalism is one that all true ministers of the gospel of Christ must take with the utmost seriousness. Nevertheless, do we really understand what Christ was condemning when he warned us to “Watch and beware the leaven of the Pharisees” (Matt. 16:6)?
In this article, I want to raise the question of whether we understand the spirit and nature of legalism correctly, and to explore whether this misunderstanding may seriously skew our gospel ministry.
The Legalism of the Pharisees: Not too Strict, but too Lax
What exactly was the legalism that the Pharisees were teaching? A common thought is that the Pharisees were legalistic by being overly strict about the law, while the Sadducees were overly lax about the law. That is, the Pharisees are commonly characterized as legalists, and the Sadducees as libertines. While this view is both common and convenient as a way of categorizing the two groups, it does not match either the historical records or the biblical records, especially regarding the Pharisees.
Both Jewish and Christian historians have recognized that the Pharisees were trying to simplify the law, rather than complicating it. So, the Jewish scholar Alexander Guttmann writes:
Emerging from the ranks of the people, the rabbis spoke in terms intelligible to the populace and were therefore able to lead the people in accordance with their teachings, a feat the Prophets had been unable to accomplish. Uncompromising idealists, the Prophets demanded perfection and the establishment of God’s kingdom on earth in their own time; therefore, they were doomed to failure. Prophetic Judaism never became a reality but remained only an ideal, a goal, like Plato’s Republic. The rabbis were idealists, too, but they were at the same time pedagogues. In guiding their people, they took the realities of life (among them the weakness of human beings) into consideration. They upheld the Torah as the divine code, but at the same time they recognized the need for harmonizing the Torah with the ever-changing realities of life.1
The mission of the Pharisees was not to create a set of extra rules to prop themselves up—even if this may have been the eventual result. Rather, the mission of the Pharisees was to boil down the law to principles, practices, and techniques that normal people could understand and keep.
To be sure, the Pharisees were legalists. Their legalism, however, was the result of trying to reduce the law down to something manageable in the lives of the people. This did not leave them to become too strict, but, far too lax in comparison to the fullness of what God required.
The Bare Text of the Law vs. The Full Ethics of the Moral Law
Old Testament scholar Gordon Wenham helps to see this point by observing that the text of the law does not give us a complete accounting for the fullness of what the moral law actually requires. Or, as Wenham puts it, there is a “gap” between the bare text of the law in the Bible and the fullness of the ethics (moral law) required by the Bible.2 So, the bare text of the law “sets a minimum standard of behaviour, which if transgressed attracts sanction,” but the “ethical ceiling is as high as heaven itself, for a key principle of biblical ethics is the imitation of God. Man made in God’s image must act in a godlike way: ‘Be holy, for I the LORD your God am holy’ (Lev. 19:2).”3
From this, we can see that the legalism of the Pharisees manifested itself in two ways: (1) they sought to keep the bare text of the law, rather than the fullness of the biblical ethic (moral law) of what it means to imitate God; and (2) they boiled down the full biblical ethic of the law into manageable principles that seemed to make the law possible to keep.
New Testament scholar J. Gresham Machen makes this point powerfully:
The legalism of the Pharisees, with its regulation of the minute details of life, was not really making the Law too hard to keep; it was really making it too easy. Jesus said to His disciples, “Except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven.” The truth is, it is easier to cleanse the outside of the cup than it is to cleanse the heart. If the Pharisees had recognized that the Law demands not only the observance of external rules but also and primarily mercy and justice and love for God and men, they would not have been so readily satisfied with the measure of their obedience, and the Law would then have fulfilled its great function of being a schoolmaster to bring them to Christ. A low view of law leads to legalism in religion; a high view of law makes a man a seeker after grace.4
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1 Alexander Guttmann, Rabbinic Judaism in the Making: A Chapter in the History of the Halakhah from Ezra to Judah I (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1970), xii. Cited in Moisés Silva, “The Place of Historical Reconstruction in New Testament Criticism,” in Hermeneutics, Authority, and Canon, ed. D. A. Carson and John D. Woodbridge (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1986), 120. I am indebted to Silva’s article for much of what I have written about the nature of legalism here.
2 Gordon J. Wenham, “The Gap between Law and Ethics in the Bible,” Journal of Jewish Studies 48, no. 1 (1997): 17–29.
3 Wenham, “The Gap Between Law and Ethics in the Bible,” 18, 26.
4 J. Gresham Machen, The Origin of Paul’s Religion (New York: Macmillan, 1921), 179.
