The Dean’s Disease: How the Darker Side of Power Manifests Itself in the Office of Dean ARTHUR G. BEDEIAN Louisiana State University INTRODUCTION Commentators since the time of Greek dramatist Sophocles have noted that the exercise of power often produces strong psychological changes in people. As power holders, deans comprise far too few exceptions to this insight. Early in their tenure new deans are generally grateful for the confidence placed in them by their former colleagues and are eager to work together in changing “the system” to eliminate unjust privileges and practices. But soon feelings of overwhelming gratitude and oneness become faint memories. Within months of taking office, such feelings undergo a transformation so subtle that those affected are unaware of changes in their thinking and behavior. As described by psychologist David Kipnis (1984), power holders, in general, and as I argue here, a certain subcategory of deans, unknowingly “become puffed up with their own importance” (p. 30). Just as subtly, the exercise of power changes their view of themselves and of others. Kipnis (1976) has labeled these changes the “metamorphic effects of power” and has suggested they offer tacit evidence for Lord Acton’s famous admonition that “power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” The metamorphic effects of power are at first imperceptible, but quickly act to change humanitarian impulses. As observed by psychoanalyst Manfred Kets de Vries (1991), being in the top position influences the way others relate to power holders, and this in turn affects their thinking and, then, behavior. Whereas these changes may take place in individuals occupying any higher level position, the role of dean in a traditional academic college is so unique as to magnify their consequences. This uniqueness stems from an absence of objective and immediate measures of performance combined with arcane governance procedures that may permit some deans to hold office for years without being confronted by those who disagree with their judgments (Julius, Baldridge, & Pfeffer, 1999). With the flush of initial success that often accompanies new deans’ “honeymoon” period, they may develop a sense of superiority that makes it difficult for their faculty to communicate with them. Although describing the nature of CEO power, Kets de Vries (1991) artfully captures the transformation that soon follows, as real dialogue is no longer tolerated and up-and-coming deans seem to be more interested in maintaining a high public profile than in discussing the basis for their decisions. If faculty wish to stay in the “inner circle,” they will take care not to ruffle any decanal feathers and only communicate views that reflect the superiority of their dean’s ideas. I call this series of changes the “dean’s disease,” a malady that may be irreversible and potentially fatal. In doing so, I wish to make an immediate disclaimer that I am not contending the following observations apply to all deans, but that they do apply to many. Nor do I claim that the symptoms associated with the dean’s disease are not present in higher level academic administrators. After all most academic topsiders were once I am indebted to Achilles A. Armenakis, W. Jack Duncan, and Hubert S. Feild for vetting an earlier draft manuscript and for innumerable conversations, over many years, about the mysteries and absurdities of academic administration. The keen observations of Claire T. Feild, Patti B. Gunter, Richard T. Mowday, Michael J. Stahl, and Pamela L. Perrewe ´ have been most helpful. The kindness of Harrison G. Gough, Manfred F. R. Kets des Vries, and Harry Levinson in sharing their insights into the “dean’s disease” and for identifying relevant literature is gratefully acknowledged. Correspondence concerning this manuscript should be addressed to Arthur G. Bedeian, Department of Management, Louisiana State University, Baton Rouge, LA 70803-6312. E-mail: [email protected]
Academy of Management Learning and Education, 2002, Vol. 1, No. 2, 164–173. ........................................................................................................................................................................ 164deans themselves. My intent is to simply look, after 3 decades of firsthand observation, at the effects of power in an academic context and to examine how the darker side of power manifests itself in the specific office of dean. If faculty wish to stay in the “inner circle,” they will take care not to ruffle any decanal feathers and only communicate views that reflect the superiority of their dean’s ideas. Doppelga ¨ ngers Just why the dean’s disease occurs has been the subject of limited research. Drawing on the psychological literature, three reasons, in particular, resonate as being at play in the traditional academic setting within which deans operate (Kipnis, 1972). First, deans find that they are able to influence faculty because of the resources they control. This control of resources becomes manifest as deans exercise both coercive and reward power (French & Raven, 1959). Coercive power is characterized by the use of verbal threats, confrontation, and punitive actions to force compliance from faculty members. Not surprisingly, deans who exercise coercive power are soon “perceived by [faculty] as acting with personal bias, dishonesty, and arbitrariness” (Mossholder, Bennett, Kemery, & Wesolowski, 1998: 536). Reward power involves the capacity to provide outcomes such as salary increases, promotions, favorable teaching assignments, praise, and recognition. Studies have shown that individuals quite frequently employ ingratiation tactics as a means to secure such favorable outcomes (Liden & Mitchell, 1988). A problem that develops in such cases is that by relying on reward power deans become isolated from dissenting voices as sycophants vie for personal gains. The ready acquiescence and flattery that accompany such competitions can easily lead deans to believe that their ideas are superior to those of their faculty. Such obsequiousness is destructive enough when it simply involves the garden-variety self-seeker who chimes in dutifully, but evolves into further depths when it captures a dean’s associate deans, department chairs, and other close advisors. When this occurs, a dean’s office moves from being a bastion of character to one of personality (Stengel, 2000). As a consequence, deans are effectively insulated from day-to-day realities, neither aware that they do not understand what is going on in their colleges nor that their lack of truthful information may be having negative effects. The tug of flattery that those in power are the heirs to and the comfort of being surrounded by people who never contradict them may well explain the troubles encountered by many deans (Jenkins, 2001). Kanter (1979) has described this situation well, suggesting that power holders may create a closed inner circle of “doppelga ¨ ngers” (i.e., carbon copies) who tell them only what they wish to hear so as to protect their own positions of power or avoid falling victim to the “kill-the-messenger” disease associated with actions taken against the bearer of bad news. The deference that results creates a protective cocoon that shields out reality. Whereas losing one’s grasp on reality is a common human failing, doing so can be particularly dangerous for deans because they have the means to act out their delusions of grandeur (Kets de Vries, 1989). Arthur G. Bedeian 2002 Bedeian 165The tug of flattery that those in power are the heirs to and the comfort of being surrounded by people who never contradict them may well explain the troubles encountered by many deans. One result of such self-censorship is that deans develop an incredible ability to “create a reality” that only exists in their imagination. In true “groupthink style,” the shared lies that are necessary to sustain the associated delusions are subsequently augmented by a false illusion of unanimity (Janis, 1971). The greater inner circle members’ dependence, the stronger will be their motivation to censor themselves and make operative beliefs seem like the truth. This explains how deans with a penchant for self-delusion are able to tell stories to outsiders about how splendid things are within their college, a fantasy believed by few others and, certainly, no one outside the deans’ inner circle. If realism has a one-to-one relationship with effectiveness on the job, then it follows that there is no substitute for deans surrounding themselves with hardheaded, critical thinkers. The behavior of inner circle members, especially those who are vulnerable as a result of not having a record of respected academic accomplishments to fall back upon, is understandable. They soon realize that their continued privileged status and supply of rewards are dependent on maintaining a favored relationship with their dean. This requires that they become “yes-sayers” and provide a steady stream of positive feedback (Prendergast, 1993). As described by Kets de Vries (1980), however, those thus trapped fail to “accept that one cannot live in a dream world forever and that when the awakening occurs, the shock will usually be destructive to both the leader and the led” (pp. 77–78). This is not to say that in backroom conversations, they do not describe their dean as “incompetent, ineffective, ‘out of touch,’ or a candidate for early retirement,” but to their dean’s face “nothing is said, or at best, only oblique references are made concerning his role” in a college’s problems (Harvey, 1974: 77). Obviously, then, if the dean isn’t to blame, some other group must be. Strategic Praise A second reason why the dean’s disease may occur follows from the first. As a result of being the target of flattery and being caught in a style-oversubstance quagmire overloaded with “strategic praise” (Stengel, 2000: 14) from servile associates, deans begin to believe that they are, indeed, special. That is, they develop an overinflated sense of self as they come to believe that they are really as gifted and as intelligent as others tell them. In a word they begin to read and believe their own press releases. Maccoby (1976) makes this point when he observes that for the power hungry “admiration becomes a drug” (p. 188). Blinded by their own radiance, such deans must surround themselves with uncritical associates because admiration and agreement on all things are inseparably linked. According to Kipnis (1976), one sign that a power holder’s views of personal superiority have become firmly established is the expression of irritation when his ideas are challenged. In such a circumstance, unless new ideas belong to the power holder (as the object of everyone’s flattery), old positions must be defended regardless of whether they have been shown to be outdated. In the academic world, this is evidenced in deans who see any suggested revision or implied question about an established policy as a blow to their amour propre, or even as an invasion of their prerogatives as the one person “everyone” acknowledges knows best. “The assumption that ‘I am number one’ makes it very difficult to accommodate information that says otherwise” (Kipnis, 1976: 174). New members of our profession who have not been warned or advised otherwise are often amazed at the ferocity they encounter when naively offering a suggestion for doing things differently within their college. When the dean in question is also a management prof, it is enough to make one wonder if he (there are relatively few women business school deans) has ever read any of the books he teaches out of or may even have written! A Taste for Power A third reason the dean’s disease may occur is that the control of resources requires that deans adopt a morality consistent with the power associated with this control. As Kipnis (1976) explains, because “unchallenged power brings psychic as well as material rewards, it is not surprising that those in power wish to maintain this state of affairs” (p. 174). As a result, commonly held values and norms are ignored when they interfere with the preservation of power. Having acquired a “taste for power,” the pursuit of power becomes an end in itself. New values and rules of behavior emerge as deans attempt to protect and extend their power. As described by Kipnis (1976), this often leads to instances where power holders believe themselves exempt from established mores, even to the extent 166 Academy of Management Learning and Education Decemberthat they may maintain one moral code at the office and another at home. A colleague in an administrative position tells of an exchange that suggests how accustomed his dean had become to leading a double life morally. The two differed on whether the son of an influential donor should be admitted to their college’s MBA program. Despite the son not meeting MBA admission standards, the dean insisted that he be admitted “for the convenience of the institution.” My colleague objected, at which point his dean plaintively asked: “Do you not do things as Bob the administrator that you would not do as Bob the individual?” A third reason the dean’s disease may occur is that the control of resources requires that deans adopt a morality consistent with the power associated with this control. Believing that they are exempt from moral standards that apply to others allows deans to justify self-serving and self-interested actions, as well as the bending or disregarding of the truth. It would seem that all too many power holders come to believe that a special divinity, with its own code of ethics, surrounds their actions (Sorokin & Lunden, 1959). Within academe it seems that deans are well known for their double standards and for possessing no sense of conscience or guilt (Kerr, 1988). In a manner further reminiscent of groupthink, administrators suffering from the dean’s disease believe unquestionably in their inherent morality. This belief allows them to ignore the ethical consequences of their decisions and, more important, relieves them of the responsibility for justifying their decisions according to rational procedures. Moreover, it helps them avoid feelings of shame or guilt and, thereby, protects their self-esteem (Janis, 1971). Sorokin and Lunden (1959) have asserted that leading a double life morally results in the demoralization of power holders as their values change and they begin to believe in their own infallibility. As a way of rationalizing their actions, power holders devalue the worth of others and act to distance themselves from those judged less worthy. Direct reports are seen as objects of manipulation with a secondary claim on rights and privileges. This occurs because it is easier to be callous about others’ appetitive needs, and even exploit or drop them when they no longer serve a purpose, if social contact and emotional involvement have been minimized (Kets de Vries, 1989). In the world of academe this may explain the deans’ abuse of their power (with the resulting acrimonious interpersonal relations between dean and faculty) and their fear of strength in their advisors, as well as faculty who have high status owing to stature within their fields (Smith-Lovin, 1999). This would especially seem to be the case where deans have doubts about their own competence and are jealous of anyone seen as more able or prominent. In such instances, there is a tendency among deans to surround themselves with acolytes who are nonthreatening, so as to protect their ego and position. Parkinson (1957) has justly labeled this phenomenon “injelitance,” defined as a form of organizational paralysis compounded equally of incompetence and jealousy. The degree to which some deans devalue the worth of their faculties is no less harsh than the extent to which faculty question the integrity of deans. Prevention Recognizing the dark side of the dean’s disease, we now ask how can it be prevented? What safeguards or antidotes can be employed to minimize its devastating effects on deans and faculties, as well as the danger such effects present to a college’s operations? What actions can be taken to counteract the dean’s disease once its telltale signs are recognized? The first step in preventing the dean’s disease is to recognize its individual and organizational markers in dean applicants. Some applicants may display isolated symptoms without having the disease, but one or two symptoms may be enough to raise serious concern. Other applicants may show emerging signs of the malady that, unless addressed early, will only worsen after being a dean for several years. 1. Check out dean applicants. Extrapolating from Kets de Vries (1979), applicants for administrative appointment who are likely to be susceptible to the dean’s disease typically display identifiable personality characteristics. For instance, “they may appear to possess a lot of personal charm and seductiveness, qualities that may have originally been responsible for their personal attractiveness” (p. 132). Closer inspection, however, may well reveal that this behavior masks considerable egotism and lack of insight, along with a need to dominate and control. The actions of such people often embody a rigid quality and a suspiciousness of others. They frequently become preoccupied with discovering hidden motives behind people’s actions and with searching for details to confirm their suspicions. Further, being unable to rise 2002 Bedeian 167above their egos, these applicants easily feel wronged or slighted and are distrustful of others. Such behavior is virtually guaranteed to create a state of interpersonal tension as individual faculty react angrily to their insensitivity and lack of consideration. The fact that many universities seem more intent on hiring salesmen as deans rather than scholars only makes matters worse. One strategy for assuring due diligence is sending a subset of a dean’s search committee to a prospective candidate’s campus to talk with local colleagues about the candidate’s background and self-enhancement tendencies. Experience suggests being particularly careful about hiring any sitting dean whose faculty colleagues describe as being “the best thing for this university since a winning football team.” Such accolades may well indicate that the dean’s references are trying to solve their college’s own problems by sending their dean to another campus. Be equally sensitive to applicants claiming a previous dean’s successes (e.g., in fund-raising or securing professorships) as their own and who have a fondness for the use of “I” in statements of accomplishments (e.g., “I did this,” “I did that,” “I increased enrollment”). Either tendency may reflect a full-blown case of imperious self-aggrandizement and egotripping. 2. Look at their past record. Signs of the dean’s disease may be detectable by reviewing the past records of applicants for administrative positions. One symptom may be past abuse of power or an overreliance on coercive or reward power. True leaders generally find it unnecessary to employ power associated with their position. Rather, true leaders will rely on referent power that attaches to specific individuals because people admire them or are impressed by their integrity or expert power based on possessing valued knowledge or special skills (French & Raven, 1959). Use of such personal sources of power is especially effective in gaining faculty respect and is derived from having achieved some measure of academic credibility (Bachman, 1968). This stresses the point that beyond admiration and integrity, those who are considered for deanships should have established academic records (Bedeian, 1996). A solid scholarly record is important because it avoids situations in which deans demand that faculty do things (e.g., conduct research, publish, secure grants) that they have not done and perhaps could not do themselves. Unfortunately, this may be one reason some faculty members aspire to be deans—they can’t do, but they don’t mind telling other people to do. Such faculty are pursuing administrative careers for reasons having to do more with power than fostering scholarship and classroom learning. Moreover, it seems that many prospective deans are too impatient to exercise authority to build a power base founded on expert knowledge or referent characteristics. As an additional point, be especially leery of applicants wishing to embark upon a second career as a means of “sharing their years of real-world experience.” The experience in question may be nothing more than one year’s experience twenty times over. Such altruism may also be associated with a continuing need for power. Another symptom suggesting an administrative applicant’s possible infection with the dean’s disease is a past record of selecting dependent advisors either as a means of avoiding threats from below or believing that no one is capable. As previously discussed, dysfunctional deans are afraid of strength in their associates, preferring to be surrounded by people who never disagree with them. A dean who is a true leader acts quite differently. As explained by Tony Rucci, former dean at the University of Illinois at Chicago, . . . excellent leaders are those who are selfconfident enough about who they are and their values that they don’t view people as threats. In fact the best leaders I’ve ever seen are the ones who readily admit that there’s always going to be someone more talented. Not only are they not threatened by that, but the best leaders are the one’s who constantly try to surround themselves with people who are more talented than they are or complement the leader’s weaknesses (quoted in Thompson, 1999: 105). The above quote echoes a reality that has long been observed in academe: “You can judge the quality of a dean by the quality of the people he has surrounded himself with.” In the absence of a dean who possesses the level of self-confidence Rucci describes, an outbreak of the dean’s disease is a predictable result and offers an explanation for the disruptive dynamics seen in many colleges as faculty and administrators struggle for supremacy. Another symptom suggesting an administrative applicant’s possible infection with the dean’s disease is a past record of referring to “the faculty” as if the applicant in some way was a member of a different group. The “we-vs.-them” mentality that this conveys may occur for several reasons and speaks volumes about an applicant’s self-view. Whereas, as suggested, new deans initially hold the belief that they are faculty agents, they soon realize that they must also serve as an agent of 168 Academy of Management Learning and Education Decembertheir university’s central administration (Wolverton, Wolverton, & Gmelch, 1999). Knowing that any future higher level administrative aspirations, not to mention pay raises, are dependent on pleasing their superiors, all but the most independent deans soon fall into step, identifying with higher status administrators. “We” soon becomes equated with the “good guys” and “they” (as in “they” the faculty) the “bad guys.” This loss of faculty identity makes all the more difficult genuine attempts at resolving differences with parties who are now seen as enemies, rather than partners. This tendency is exacerbated by two additional factors. First, once appointed, deans seldom continue to attend their disciplinary meetings. Instead, they frequent conferences with other deans, where they devote themselves to such matters as accreditation. This further reinforces their delusions of grandeur. An informal reviewer of this manuscript has even noted that deans create an elitist hierarchy within their own ranks by only associating with other deans of “schools like their own.” A second factor that contributes to the deans’ loss of identification with faculty is the role of deans as external fund-raisers. To be effective in raising outside monies, deans must “relate to the business community.” This means relating to CEOs. Because deans aspire to run in CEO circles, they begin to act like CEOs rather than faculty. This has the effect of distancing them from more egalitarian academic values. They demand the same perks (e.g., city club and country club memberships) and attempt to enact the same lifestyle. Living in prestigious neighborhoods, flying first class, and playing golf at the best courses soon become the norm. Every extravagance is dismissed as a “necessary evil,” as CEOs become the reference group of record. As a further effect, as deans forget where they came from and what it was like to have been there, they soon have virtually no identity with faculty and faculty families (and vice versa). Safeguards Given the dark side of the dean’s disease, various safeguards are available to thwart its outbreak: 1. Establish values. Although little research has been devoted to exploring the etiology of the dean’s disease, the role of values as a safeguard in preventing its outbreak seems indisputable. It may seem strange to suggest that values are even an issue in university communities with their emphasis on academic freedom. Reality indicates, however, that a true articulation of commonly agreed values detailing the parameters within which deans and faculty are expected to behave in conducting their daily affairs is desperately missing on many university campuses. The creation and promulgation of such values across generations of scholars is the responsibility of all concerned and would do much toward reining in the grandiosity and self-involvement underlying the dean’s disease. As for deans, Julius, Baldridge, and Pfeffer (1999) offer one “absolute”: Unless they are perceived as having the highest values relating to integrity, honesty, fairness, and selfishness, they will lose their ability to function as faculty leaders. 2. Encourage independent thought. To counteract the dean’s disease it is important for those in power to promote a culture where disagreement is not only permissible, but encouraged (Thompson, 1999). If the style-over-substance quagmire is to be escaped, the traditional notion of decanal power must be subverted in favor of respect for ideas, whatever their source. Deans should be self-confident enough about their talents and intellect to surround themselves with advisors who are willing to contradict them. Likewise, they should be thrilled to be trumped by bright faculty, not to mention flattered that they were smart enough to hire them in the first place. In a word, a culture should be developed where people take pride in the accomplishments of one another, and in which competence in others is not threatening. For such a culture to emerge requires that a dean practice a leadership style that favors free discourse rather than tightly controlled discussion, nonjudgmental attitudes rather than highly defensive posturing, and divergent rather than convergent thinking. An open leadership style of this nature is crucial for fostering a healthy climate where the dean’s disease cannot flourish. What distinguishes firstclass deans from dysfunctional deans is the ability not just to tolerate, but also to encourage dissenting ideas from a diverse group of faculty. The practical lesson for deans is simple: If those you rely upon for advice have not been disagreeing with you very much or very hard, it may be time for a “bootlicking reality check” (Norton, 1994). The lesson for those who advise deans is equally simple: You do a disservice to your supremo by holding back, or shielding him, from dissenting ideas (Hymowitz, 2001). Counteractions Once symptoms of the dean’s disease have been recognized, various counteractions can be taken. First, it must be recognized that the bug cannot flourish unless obsequious advisors and docile faculty members are willing to collude with their 2002 Bedeian 169dean’s abuse of power. Directly put, faculty (especially senior faculty) are responsible for confronting signs of the dean’s disease before it spreads. They alone are likely to possess the necessary leverage to muster forces to ameliorate the disease’s grip. Evidence that the dean’s disease is not being confronted squarely and openly is available when small subgroups of trusted faculty meet informally over coffee or lunch to discuss a college’s direction and the conversation is punctuated with statements that begin, “Someone should do. . . .” (Harvey, 1974). Other danger signs are when (a) faculty members begin to spend as much time away from their offices as possible; (b) attendance at college faculty meetings dwindles as formerly active contributors disengage; (c) selection and promotion procedures begin to reflect a dean’s idiosyncracies rather than a concern for overall academic qualifications; (d) unsystematic decisionmaking patterns emerge; and (e) when morale within a college collapses as a dean loses his ability to lead because he has lost the respect of his faculty (Kets de Vries, 1991). A college, like any organization, takes on its own character. The ability to take decisive action and confront the dean’s disease is rooted in that character. For this reason, eradicating the dean’s disease requires a basic intellectual integrity characterized by openness and candor (Charan, 2001). Openness means an honest search for alternatives involving a willingness to listen to all sides. A search for the truth rather than a contest. Candor demands “speaking the unspeakable.” It means expressing true opinions and not parroting what is believed others may wish to hear. This would seem easy in an academic environment supposedly based on a tradition of unrestrained intellectual inquiry and passionate discussions. The rhetoric– reality gap, however, is gaping. Recall your last college faculty meeting or, if you are a department chair, your last chairman’s meeting. The dean has just completed a lengthy monologue on his latest scheme and calls for comments. The room falls silent as those present awkwardly wait for someone else to say something. No one dares comment until the dean shows which way he’s leaning (Charan, 2001: 75). Whereas this may occur because those present simply do not care one way or the other, have learned from past experience that it does little good to bother once the dean has made up his mind, or have constructed negative fantasies about evils that will result from voicing an unwelcome opinion, the stereotypic view of academic debates being “intellectual food fights” and “free-for-alls” is all too often nothing more than a myth. (It is a sad commentary on the state of higher education that there is probably less reluctance to speak up in a corporate organization such as General Electric, with its famous “Work-Out” sessions, in which anyone is free to address any topic and traditional executive power is totally subverted, than in most universities.) True, administrators suffering from the dean’s disease do not take criticism well. Their typical modus operandi involves trying to exert their power and so diminish others. In the case of those suffering from a full-blown case of the dean’s disease, “delusional thinking can be difficult to overcome,” and, as Kets de Vries (1979) has observed, “appeal to . . . logic and reality does not help; on the contrary, it might evoke uncompromising, hostile, and aggressive reactions” (p. 133). As further described by Kets de Vries (1989), some infected deans may even mentally divide faculty into those who are “with” them and those who are “against” them. The result of such distortive mental gymnastics is likely to be an academic environment transmogrified by fear and incrimination into an imagined world of cabals and conspiracies. In such situations, even getting a dean to entertain the possibility that his views are questionable may require professional guidance or assistance from higher administrative levels and other interested parties such as advisory boards. Failing to provide administrators, at any level, with honest feedback in such instances deprives them of the information necessary to address their “blind spots” (Charan, 2001). The feedback, as previously suggested, should be frank and constructive. An implication that follows from the necessity of providing feedback is the importance of universitysanctioned methods for honest and full reviews of a dean’s performance. These should include all of a college’s constituencies and might include periodic reviews conducted by a university’s central administration and annual assessments coordinated by a college-level faculty policy committee. In any instance, the feedback resulting from such exercises should provide a basis for a realityoriented dean–faculty relationship and a healthy climate where susceptibility to the dean’s disease is minimized. Rx for Staying on Course As for deans themselves, various self-directed countermeasures for sidestepping the dean’s disease are available (Kries de Vries, 1989). These include such simple actions as maintaining relations with faculty colleagues by routinely joining the daily lunch crowd, attending one’s disciplinary meetings, maintaining one’s subject area identifi- 170 Academy of Management Learning and Education Decembercation, and periodically teaching an undergraduate class. Such actions will not only keep deans abreast of faculty concerns, but also signal that they are accessible and create a culture that attracts talented faculty. Those deans interested in avoiding the pitfalls of power may wish to reflect on the following checklist: 1. Are you accessible to your faculty? What (formal and informal) forums for communication exist in your college? Do you invite candid feedback? Do you promote a culture that encourages faculty to speak up in a frank and open manner? Do you push to hear both the positives and negatives in making decisions? Does your leadership style favor free discourse rather than tightly controlled discussion, nonjudgmental attitudes rather than highly defensive posturing, and divergent rather than convergent thinking? How do you respond to criticism from faculty? Are faculty unwilling to express conflicting opinions when you are present? Do you invite productive criticism or do you become irritated when your ideas are challenged? Are the prizewinners and recognition garners in your college known for their outspokenness or for their conformity? Is being a yes-sayer believed to be the best route to promotion in your college? 2. Do you listen? Are you surrounded by hardheaded, critical thinkers who are not afraid to speak up or by yes-sayers who are afraid to tell you the truth? How often do your advisors openly disagree with you? Are you threatened by the competence of those around you? Have you fostered a culture that values expertise and intelligence over rank and title? Must you always be right? Are you contemptuous of other people’s ideas? Are you frequently suspicious of others and question their motives? Are dissenters branded troublemakers and not team players rather than being seen as fulfilling a professional responsibility? How do you react to bad news? Do you shoot the messenger? 3. Do you often find it necessary to employ power associated with your position rather than referent or expert power borne of personal respect and academic credibility? How difficult would it be for you to resume your academic career? Do you believe you know more than anyone else? Have you taken credit for the accomplishments of others? Do you have a fondness for using the pronoun “I” in discussions with others and for “blowing your own horn?” Must you be the center of attention? Are you condescending to staff and faculty? Do you see changing your mind, especially after new information is presented, to be a sign of weakness or self-confidence? 4. Is there a clear, strong set of values in your college? Do your actions embody these values? What have you done to assure that these values permeate your college? Do you measure every decision against these values? Do you believe that at times it is necessary to do things for the “good of the institution” that you would find objectionable in your personal life? Do you find that you must often rationalize your actions to avoid feelings of shame or guilt? 5. Is there a unity of purpose in your college? Do you think of faculty in terms of those who are “with” you and those who are “against” you? Do you see “faculty” as a member of another group and maintain a “we-vs.-them” attitude in discussing college affairs? Do you attend professional meetings in your disciplinary area? Who do you see as your reference group—colleagues in your discipline, other deans, higher level administrators at your university, or members of the business community? 6. Do faculty in your college spend as much time away from the office as possible? Has attendance at college faculty meetings dwindled since you first became dean? Do hiring and tenure and promotion decisions reflect your preferences or those of faculty? Does a “silent pause” follow you around as you walk the hallways in your building? 7. Is there a university-sanctioned method for an honest and full review of your performance? Does this review involve both faculty and all of your college’s constituencies? Are there faculty governance procedures in place within your college? Is your college budget subject to faculty scrutiny? 8. How realistic is your view of your college’s future? Is this view shared by the college’s faculty? Are you losing touch with faculty interests and concerns? Is it hard to find time to join faculty colleagues for lunch? Do you continue to read professional journals in your area of expertise? Have you turned the day-to-day affairs of running your college over to someone else? When is the last time you taught an undergraduate course? Do you spend more time designing your college’s alumni magazine than visiting with individual faculty members? In considering the preceding checklist, one should realize that appointment to a deanship is necessarily isolating, as the position itself and the necessity of making decisions about faculty members’ careers invariably separates deans from their former colleagues. Moreover, efforts by deans to retain their status as “one of the gang” are often misconstrued. Friendliness to former peers is likely to be interpreted as favoritism. Attempts at affability by erstwhile peers may similarly be viewed as lobbying (Kets de Vries, 1989). As deans 2002 Bedeian 171and faculty have fewer contacts, the types of interactions that do take place change as well. Faculty members are less likely to drop in on their deans to shoot the bull and are more likely to see them only because they need something (e.g., resources to fund a project). This creates one more situation where the dean is in a position of enacting reward power and contributes to the negative perspective of faculty as always complaining. From such a perspective, a dean may understandably become more than a bit jaundiced about his “privileged” position. To wit, in reflecting a certain measure of antipathy, a former dean once observed: “A dean is to his faculty as a hydrant is to its dogs” (Lyman W. Porter quoted in Kerr, 1988: 130). Finally, recognize that although the time period will vary by dean, there seems to be a point in every dean’s tenure where, if he does not move up, returning to a faculty appointment is no longer a viable option. Being away from students, research, and the literature of one’s field for an extended period can exact a high price and make reinitiating one’s scholarly career virtually impossible. For those who do not desire to move up the academic cursus honorum and instead wish to return to the professorial ranks status quo ante, they will learn that their prior amicable network of colleagues has been forever changed. Some deans will be able to overcome the disconnectedness that ensues. Others, however, may turn inward and experience bouts of depression and even exhibit aberrant forms of behavior (Ket de Vries, 1989). This seems to be especially the case for deans who mistakenly believe that the deferential treatment they have come to expect from others, including the entre ´e they have enjoyed into the upper echelons of the business world, has resulted from referent or expert power rather than the power (and prestige) associated with the position they once occupied. 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