The Soft Touch of Dean Rosovsky

LAST SPRING Harvard stumbled through a mini-crisis of authority: administrators and committee members slowed the pace of their work, waiting to discern which way the soon-to-be-appointed dean of the Faculty would lead them. The delay grew longer and longer, and President Bok's deadline for appointing John T. Dunlop's successor passed by. Some gave up and delivered their proposals into the hands of the acting Faculty deans, Franklin L. Ford and Harvey Brooks. But others waited more patiently.

During the interregnum, Faculty meetings reflected the vacuum of leadership. Debates lengthened and wandered from the issues at question, without the influential voice of a permanent dean to direct the discussions. Meanwhile attendance rose and fell erratically, occasionally dropping below the number necessary for a quorum. The low attendance became enough of a problem to compel the creation of rules requiring the presence at meetings of department chairmen, House masters and certain other faculty.

Finally on May 1, the clouds parted; President Bok announced the appointment of Henry Rosovsky, Taussig Research Professor of Economics, to the second most powerful position in the University. The appointment sparked a rejuvenation of Faculty meetings; Bok, relieved to know that his choice would soon sit in the dean's chair, suddenly approached the dull Faculty business with a sense of humor. The Faculty began to laugh, and their enthusiasm for the new dean washed away the residue of uncertainty leftover from the last few months. Forgotten were the meetings when Bok chain smoked for two hours straight.

Although Rosovsky would not officially assume the dean's position until July 1, his appointment took on immediate importance for the administrators and committees which had been in limbo during the interregnum months. The report of the Committee on the Practice of the Arts, shelved the preceding fall by a disinterested Dean Dunlop, was released suddenly in mid-May. Although President Bok had apparently been instrumental in moving the arts proposal out of the bottom drawer of Dunlop's old desk (with some pressure from the Arts Committee), Henry Rosovsky also played an important role, one that he has continued to play this term. As one administrator said at the time, "the dean's muscle" is necessary to catalyze the Committee's controversial proposals, which include adding and expanding curricular offerings in the practice of the arts, creating arts fellowships, and appointing a coordinator and Standing Committee on the Practice of the Arts. Indeed last Tuesday the proposal for a standing committee--altered (in name only) to a "Council on the Arts" --gained overwhelming Faculty approval. The arts coordinator has already been appointed. Although the first steps may have been small, their importance cannot be belittled.

Now, with Rosovsky officially in power, the papers have been shuffling in University Hall. By delegating authority right, left and center, Rosovsky is attempting to unite the Faculty not with a diplomatic strong-arm (a la Dunlop) but with a strong-arm of diplomacy. Whereas Dunlop worked from his University Hall roost to exert his power on administrators and professors, his successor is distributing his power among the Administration and the Faculty, in an effort to bring them together. Although this style of authority would seem likely to decrease his power, Rosovsky's influence has in fact grown.

The new dean's first Faculty meeting last Tuesday bore this out. During the discussion of the 1973-74 budget, Rosovsky asked the professors to "be reasonable when your own ox is gored." His arguments clearly carried a great deal of weight--except for several perfunctory inquiries, the dean was scarcely questioned. The Faculty moved on to other matters. Rosovsky's comradely presentation had persuaded the Faculty just as successfully as John Dunlop's bully tactics would have, but gently enough to create an atmosphere of one happy family.

One happy family is indeed the from into which Rosovsky is sculpting the Faculty. Pointing out the state of the University's finances, he appealed to the Faculty to join together as a "community of scholars," to "achieve the spirit of the community;" and "not think [about the budget] as a member of a department or as an individual." Apparently the method is working--others in that meeting also touched on the importance of particular proposals to "the community."

HENRY ROSOVSKY's premiere last week in University Hall drew praise from Faculty critics, and a long run seems inevitable for the new dean, who has barely had time to memorize his lines. Faculty members and many administrators feel more at ease in their chairs now that the strong armed Dunlop is Nixon's man and Rosovsky--who likes to share power--is their man.