E
4
Messina explains, but if the donor went
further and demanded that certain chemi-
cals and a specific reporting procedure be
used in the research, that would be objec-
tionable. "You've crossed the line into
grant/contract area," Messina says. "If
there's a proprietary interest back to the
donor, then it's not a gift."
The issue at Duke was not clear-cut. Uni-
versity officials had been negotiating for
nearly three years before Deane-a liberal
New York investment banker who made
his fortune in real-estate development-
promised in December to endow 20 profes-
sorships at $1 million per chair. Those ap-
pointees were to make up a "Deane Human
Futures Institute," intended "to foster and
support research and teaching on the ca-
pacity of human beings to adapt to the
major problems facing humanity in the
onrushing world." While the institute's
professors would be chosen through a
standard academic search, an oversight
committee-composed of Deane, his attor-
ney, Duke president H. Keith H. Brodie
and two nonfaculty members agreeable to
both Deane and the university-would re-
tain the right of final approval. A larger
group, also including Deane, would con-
trol the institute's research. The commit-
tees, Deane said, are "merely a mecha-
nism to prevent Duke from hiring people
that I don't think personally will fulfill
my mandate."
When Deane's terms became public two
months after his gift was announced, many
faculty members and some outside observ-
ers protested. "Once you put the responsi-
bility of making these decisions even partly
in the hands of someone who has a fleeting
relation to the school at best, it erodes a
school's autonomy," says AAUP associate
director Jonathan Knight, one of the first
to speak out against Deane's stipulations.
Duke president Brodie and provost Phillip
A. Griffiths, who had been involved in ear-
lier negotiations with Deane and were
present when the gift was first announced,
declared now that Duke could not take
Deane's money until the strings were cut.
Partisan research: Though it could mean
giving up the gift, that stand pleased the
faculty. "The appointment of professors
has got to be done by professors as it usual-
ly is," says noted political scientist James
David Barber, who chaired a faculty com-
mittee to determine what form and direc-
tion Deane's institute might take. "If
someone's giving money, they have to
make a judgment that they have confi-
dence in what the university's all about
and where it's going." Although lawyers
are still negotiating terms, Deane has ap-
parently agreed to abandon his committee
idea, and Duke officials are optimistic
about completing the gift.
One fear at Duke was that Deane's insti-
tute could become a partisan think tank
'If someone's giving
money, they have to
make a judgment that
they have confidence in
what the university's
all about'
concedes, though, that there are limits.
"Money is money," he says. "But if Colonel
Kaddafi wanted to endow a chair, we'd de-
cidedly not be interested."
Some schools have also drawn fire for
accepting large research grants from cor-
porations, which make up a small but grow-
ing segment of big-buck donors. Having
gained a connection to university re-
sources, those companies can conceivably
try to direct research toward their own
ends. In 1982, for example, Duke rejected a
multimillion-dollar offer for a prestigious
research institute that would have been at
least partly under outside control. Just
months later and over faculty protests, the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology ac-
cepted a similar proposal. That created the
Whitehead Institute for Biomedical Re-
search, which is autonomous although its
control is shared with MIT authorities; it
has complete access to MIT's facilities and
rights to profitable patents that might re-
sult from its research. In addition, several
members of Whitehead's board are affiliat-
ed with outside biotechnology firms.
Common-sense guidelines: Students remain
somewhat ambivalent about this search for
a measured stance. University administra-
tors "might have had better judgment, but
on the other hand, money is money," muses
former American U. grad student Matteo
Amoretti. "I do want them to do more
things for the students, and they need mon-
ey to do it." At Duke,junior Andy Shimberg
is more firm: "I can definitely understand
why Deane wanted that power; it's his mon-
ey. I just don't think there's a place for that
in an academic environment."
Faculty, who often see themselves as aca-
demic freedom's last defense, contend that
schools should not bow to dollar signs.
"Universities have the capacity now to sell
their souls," complains Georgia history
professor Emory Thomas. Adds Charles
Doyle, a professor of English at Georgia,
"It's a dangerous direction for the universi-
ty to take without the consultation of facul-
ty and students."
The Hoover experience and the Reagan-
library proposal led Stanford in 1984 to a
set of "common sense" guidelines prohib-
iting gifts that infringe on the university's
control over admissions, appointments
and research. Other institutions, includ-
ing Duke and American, have also devel-
oped their own ethical guidelines for gift-
taking. Still others, like Georgia, are
confident they can decide whether to ac-
cept contributions on a case-by-case basis.
While holding out their hands, though,
they all must stay on guard. Alluring
amounts may advance prestige and fund-
ing in the short run, but the ultimate bill
may be too high to pay.
MICHAEL MILSTEIN with
EDWARD DEMARCO Jr. in Athens,
FELICIA KORNBLUH in Cambridge
and bureau reports
4
ILLUSTRATION BY JOHN BREAKEY
similar to the conservative Hoover Institu-
tion at Stanford. Hoover's 1959 charter
shut out Stanford faculty, normally re-
sponsible for governing university re-
search and teaching, from decision-making
or advisory roles. After years of misgiv-
ings, 1,500 students and nearly 100 facul-
ty petitioned in 1983 against the "partisan
organization" on campus. The same year,
Stanford was offered the Ronald Reagan
presidential library, which would have in-
cluded a policy center run by Hoover; the
university put so many of its own restric-
tions on the deal that the officials organiz-
ing the library decided to look elsewhere.
Then again, the financial pressures may
not be as great when a school is as affluent
as Stanford. At American University in
Washington, D.C., with a relatively small
$22 million endowment, president Richard
Berendzen's fund-raising techniques have
been both ingenious and provocative.
Three years ago Berendzen successfully so-
licited $5 million from international arms
merchant and man-about-Washington Ad-
nan Khashoggi for a sports center that
would bear Khashoggi's name. Berendzen
20 NEWSWEEKONCAMPUS
NOVEMBER 1987
4