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