The Changing of the Guard...

Early in July, Derek Curtis Bok, age 41, will end his six-month tenure as Harvard's President-designate and embark on a course replete with pitfalls-a course subject to myriad pressures-as the 25th President of the University.

Of all the truisms applicable to Harvard, there is one-not so pleasing as others, perhaps-which can never be ignored: Harvard is probably the most complex university in the world on an administrative level. It is this Harvard, which ranks among the largest non-profit corporations in the United States today, which mothers nearly 25,000 students within the University proper, and which is endowed with a hypersensitive, relentlessly critical Faculty, that Derek Bok inherits.

Immediately Bok is faced with a covey of unresolved debates left over from the Pusey era. Foremost among the issues he must deal with are merger, curriculum reform, responsibility to the community, the sustenance of numerous experimental programs, and the question of equal admissions for women and increased Faculty representation.

But before he can act on these, or any other issues for that matter, Bok must decide for himself the figure he will carve as President of the University. From this figure will evolve an administration certain to depart from the stolid ways of the Pusey years; new faces, new attitudes will soon supplant the old.

Bok's ascension is less a passing of the torch than a changing of the guard and renovation of the guard-house. Pusey is the last of the four top administrators responsible for the April 1969 student strike to resign. Gone already are Fred L. Glimp '50, former dean of the College; Robert B. Watson '34, former dean of Students and now director of Athletics; and Franklin L. Ford, former dean of the Faculty.

Also fading rapidly from of power is Archibald Cox '34, Watson Professor of Law and University "troubleshooter" for the past two years.

The only man at Harvard to receive special instructions from the Corporation other than Pusey, Cox has become the central figure in the Administration since 1969. As one high University official put it recently, when the word "Administration" was used in conversation, "Hold on there a minute. Don't say Administration, say Archibald Cox. He's the only one who knows [what is going on at Harvard]."

L. Gard Wiggins, administrative vice-president of the University, is resigning along with Pusey; Sargent Kennedy '28, secretary of the governing boards, has requested and been granted early retirement effective August 31.

At the center, this leaves Bok and John T. Dunlop, dean of the Faculty since 1969. It is entirely conceivable that Dunlop-one of Bok's closest confidants and surely the most powerful man within the Faculty-will, within the year, become the first Provost of the University since the James Conant era.

Bok has the full backing of the Governing Boards, and three members of the Corporation-Francis H. Burr '35, the man who headed the search for Pusey's successor, Hugh Calkins '45, and John M. Blum '43-are close friends of his. At this point, the Corporation and Overseers are beaming with pride over their new President; only time will tell how they react to his administrative inclinations.

Surrounding Bok are three new vice-presidents, half the number recommended by the University Committee on Governance in March. It is through these men that Bok will delegate and distribute the power so closely guarded by Pusey throughout his 17 year tenure.

Once his administrative framework is established, Bok will begin the arduous task of defining the role of the University under his leadership. First on the agenda is putting the University's academic house in order after two static decades wrought by Pusey's glossy, service-oriented administration.

Bok revealed his priorities in a memorandum to the Faculty on May 28 in which he outlined ten areas of undergraduate education he feels are in need of reevaluation. Among the ten, the length of undergraduate education is listed first; indeed, Bok is vitally interested in exploring the feasibility of a three-year degree program.

Bok also solicits the Faculty's views on forms of education, incentives for innovation, and the role of graduate students in teaching. He poses questions about the purpose of concentration requirements, the role of courses outside field of concentration, and, of course, his longtime interest-the role of professional schools in the undergraduate curriculum.

No matter which issues Bok chooses to deal with, though, one thing is certain: he is all the while moving in the shadows of a rapidly increasing deficit which will surely rise when the new Science Center and Gund Hall, headquarters of the Design School, are completed.

Surprisingly, few administrators worry about Bok's ability to raise funds, that quality of President Pusey's which has been his chief defense since 1969. As Law dean, Bok oversaw the Sesquicentennial Fund drive which netted a substantial $15 million. And while he may not have Pusey's appeal for the classes of the 30's and early 40's (which, incidentally, have the most money at present), Bok, young and dynamic, will be able to reach the post-war classes (which are going to have the money) much more easily.

The fiscal responsibilities will, for the most part, be farmed out among assistants, however. Bok's stated obligation is to education; as he says. "There is an obvious need to make contact with the alumni, but I don't think a President can do the job I think is needed if he spends a great deal of personal time raising money." So Bok plans to "develop the machinery [to raise funds] with capable people in charge." The obvious choice to head this machinery is the new vice-president for Financial Affairs.

No one doubts that for the past five and a half months, the man who has been calling the shots in the Administration is Derek Bok. He, not Pusey, has been responsible for making the appointments and policy decisions which will directly affect the composition and direction of his administration.

The only major appointment, aside from the three vice-presidents, was the selection of Albert M. Sacks, Bok's associate dean at the Law School, to succeed him as dean. However, Sacks was a clear choice for the position, so Bok's first appointment of major significance will be that of a Provost.

"I remain very much attracted to the idea of having a Provost," Bok said when discussing the Law dean-ship. But, he added, he will probably hold off any decision about a Provost until he has been in office for six months to a year.

Some Faculty members maintain that the delay is aimed at relieving pressure on Bok to make Dean Dunlop Provost. But Bok dismisses that theory, contending instead that he had trouble convincing Dunlop to remain as dean of the Faculty.

One main obstacle to Dunlop's becoming Provost is the problem Bok would face in finding a replacement for him. Dunlop is a member of so many committees and wields so much power within the Faculty that Bok's desire to stabilize Faculty politics may override the temptation to promote him.

Bok cites three reasons for postponing a decision about a Provost. "First," he said, "I will be better able to see precisely what responsibilities a Provost should take from me after I've been in office for a while. I have to decide how I am going to be spending my own time before dividing responsibilities.

"Second, I will be in a better position later to judge exactly what kind of skills and background will best complement my own background. And third, through close personal working relationships my knowledge of the people in the University who could fill the role of Provost will be vastly greater."

Bok also speculated that someone outside liberal arts may best complement his law background. He thus reinforced his freedom of choice in naming a Provost, if indeed he decides he wants one at all.

If any American educator were asked to name the most mobile figure in higher education in the last five years, the response, without the slightest hesitation, would be Derek Bok. Indeed, he has risen from the position of professor of Law (he was appointed full professor in 1961) to the dean-ship of the prestigious Law School in 1968 and now to the Presidency.

Bok is never static, that fate to which so many academicians succumb. He is a determined mon; his mild manner is broken only by the hard, direct line he pursues in support of firm beliefs. Bok's style of leadership is one not only of form, but of content. It is characteristic of Bok that he concentrates his energies on single tasks-never has he been guilty of overextending himself.

Up until the time he was named to succeed Erwin N. Griswold, now Solicitor General of the United States, as Law dean, Bok was a professor of Law and little else. He often resisted the practice of indulging in committee proceedings and he was careful not to overcome himself to extracurricular activities. Bok studied labor law, taught it and wrote about it (with Archibald Cox, he published Cases and Materials on Labor Law in 1965).

But contingent upon his acceptance of the dean-ship, Bok immediately divested himself of responsibilities as a professor and plunged head first into the new job during what became one of the most urbulent periods in the School's 155-year history. He allowed himself a prescribed number of weeks to finish the book he was working on at the time with Dunlop ( Labor and the American Community ); he met that schedule and became at once, and completely, the dean.

Similarly, when the announcement of his selection as Pusey's successor came in January, Bok set a two-week timetable to clear out his desk as dean and begin assimilating the duties of the President. He vowed to "devote six months exclusively to trying to inform myself both by going to other institutions and by learning more about the different parts of this one."

Understandably, he gave himself a week's vacation between jobs, but after three weeks, his only contact with the dean's office on an administrative level was to maintain liaison with his secretary and to find a successor. His handling of this question provided an important gauge of Bok as an adminis-

trator and gave insight into how he will handle the role of President.

Through a letter from President Pusey to the Law School's Committee on Governance, Bok for the first time in Harvard history solicited formal aid from a student group in the selection of a University dean.

"Although the power of appointment rests in the President and Gellows," the letter said, "[I think] it is of the utmost importance that this power be exercised only after wide-ranging discussion and consultation..... Not the least among those whose views will be valued are those of students."

And indeed, Bok received a quasi-informative report from the committee after it had spent six weeks gathering student views about the dean-ship. In April, he met with the committee for nearly six hours before making a final decision on the dean.

Perhaps the true test of Bok's commitment to student opinion will come when he has to make a major appointment which has no heir apparent. It is only clear now that he is willing to break the Pusey mold of the past decade and at least give students the feeling that they have something to do with Harvard's decision-making process.

This case is a good indicator of the differences between Pusey and Bok. During his 17 years as President, Pusey conducted the business of the University and provided services to us various divisions-he assured the different schools buildings, funds and teaching posts. But as one dean put it early this month, "the University has been essentially devoid of central academic leadership not just in the late 60's, or even the late 50's, but for almost all of the past 20 years."

The Bok style is utterly different; his chief concern, as demonstrated by his memorandum to the Faculty, lies in the academic sphere. At the Law School, for instance, his pet projects were markedly academic: curriculum and grading reform; joint degree programs with the Business School, the Kennedy School of Government and the History Department; credit for clinical law programs; and programs for research in the fields of criminal law and law and education.

Having established this priority, it is consistent that Bok would recognize the need to be cognizant of everyone's interests-including students'-in deciding an important academic issue. Whereas Pusey recoiled from direct implication, much less contact, with students in making appointments, Bok welcomes the opportunity to sound out student sentiment.

It is likely that this type of central leadership-a combination of elan and drive-will be the hallmark of Bok's early years.

During his two and a half years as Law dean, Bok gained a remarkable degree of admiration from a highly critical group of students and faculty. As the successor to Griswold, a crusty figure as dean, Bok managed to usher the School into the 70's with a minimum of abrasions and an impressive list of accomplishments.

Foremost among these accomplishments, perhaps, was his relationship with the student body. Now, as President, he stresses again and again the need to maintain contact with students.

As dean, Bok weathered two particularly harrowing confrontations with students on issues of grade reform and disciplinary policy, but he was visibly shaken when a group of radical Law students disrupted a faculty meeting last Spring to protest the disciplining of five black students involved in sit-ins at University Hall.

Typically, Bok stood forthright on his original conclusion-the result of a long and uneasy period of indecisiveness for himself-that the students must be punished. His perseverance in a situation in which he felt he was right was highly predictable.

Bok survived each crisis without alienating students; at the same time he managed to maintain a considerable degree of harmony among the 60-odd members of the exacting Law Faculty. His survival was marked by a cautious and deliberate manner which hinged for success on countless meetings and conversations with students and faculty.

When the issue of grade reform reached a heated peak in 1969. Bok and a few other Law professors called each member of the faculty at home and arranged discussion groups with students about grading. It was during this same crisis that Bok, at 12:30 a.m., walked in on a "study-in" students were holding in the Law School Library to protest grading.

After ordering coffee and donuts for the "demonstrators," Bok strolled into the library, climbed up on a table, and said, "I want to thank you all for coming here to show your concern about the Law School." He then sat down and discussed the issues for most of the night.

This bravado is always backed with action, though. Bok's preparedness to meet the issues head on is the basis for the judgment that his style is one both of form and content.

"My own feeling," he said earlier this Spring, "is that it is really terribly important that you be as open as you can about what you're doing, be very careful about what you promise and that you break your back to fulfill any commitments that you do make-and in that way very slowly build up trust in at least a substantial number of students and faculty."

In his first encounter with undergraduates this Spring, however, Bok gained a draw at best. Following the disruption of the March 26 "Counter Teach-in," he went to several Houses to discuss the issue of free speech; he was met with a wide-ranging barrage of charges and accusations and, by his own admission, he was flustered.

The result was that some students thought he tried to evade the issue by taking an annoyingly ambivalent stance. His hesitation, not characteristic, stems from two factors.

The first is that at the time of the meetings, he was not in fact President. He was necessarily being careful not to infringe on Pusey's lame-duck privileges.

Secondly, with an issue as new and powerful as that produced in the aftermath of the disruption, Bok prefers to consider the issue until he is able to resolve it for himself. In late April, he was still not clear about the rights and wrongs of the Sanders Theatre incident. It is characteristic, however, that he plans to build a clear position on academic freedom and free speech during the summer months for presentation next Fall.

Derek Bok was a happy man as dean of the Harvard Law School. Throughout the Fall, he stated frankly that he would prefer to remain at the School and that he was not particularly interested in the Presidency. His credentials made him an irresistible candidate though, and in the end he acquiesced (surprise) and agreed to become Harvard's 25th President.

When Francis Burr came to his house on December 13 and offered him the job, Bok asked for ten days to think it over. Later he reflected, "Being asked to do something for an institution like Harvard exercises a very potent appeal that is hard to gauge until it's put to you."

Above all, Bok is known as a sensitive man. He is covetous of his privacy and his family life. And in his administrative conduct, he is anything but a crisis manager impervious to the strains and disappointments of his job.

The day after the University Hall bust in 1969, he said, "This is the saddest day of my life. It's terrible to see the community you've been involved in all your life turned on its ears." Twenty-four hours earlier, he had joined three other deans in asking President Pusey to reconsider his decision to call in the police to clear students out of the building.

If this hints at Bok's humanness, his compassion is confirmed by his determination to avoid, for his family's sake, the President's residence at 1 Quincy St. One of his most forceful statements so far was that he would "quite clearly [not live at Quincy St.] if I can help it."

The decision to take up residence at Elmwood, the vacant home of the dean of the Faculty, rather than go on public display at Quincy St. shows that Bok is serious when he says, "There has to be something wrong with a job that interferes substantially with the lives of your wife and children."

Tall, very athletic (he played varsity basketball at Sanford-"very badly," by his own admission), Bok draws on a seemingly endless well of energy. But for the most part, he likes to move outside the stuffy back chambers of Harvardiana and be with friends and his family.

On national issues, Bok is considered solidly liberal, strongly opposed to the Vietnam War and the Law School, he was far ahead of the College in hiring minority construction workers.

Bok fully intends to speak out on public issues. In January he said, "I certainly think a President ought to be able to speak out as an individual on any issue he thinks important."

The cautious manner, however, is still evident. He continued, "It's difficult to inform oneself adequately on the wide range of public issues. One isn't going to be listened to for very long, if at all, unless he speaks with authority, from factual knowledge."

Bok's strongest public stands have come in his opposition to the nomination of G. Harrold Carswell to the Supreme Court (When he organized Law deans across the country against the nomination) and last Spring when he traveled to Washington to join several other Harvard professors protesting President Nixon's invasion of Cambodia.

Few people were surprised when the choice for President narrowed finally to two men from inside the University: Bok and John Dunlop. Indeed, as Corporation member Albert M. Nickerson '25 mused in November, it would take an outsider "three years to settle into the job, and by that time he could be hamstrung by the rapid pace of events."

The rapid pace of events as included more nadirs than high points since 1969, the last year in which Pusey exercised any real power over the Faculty. Between Bok and Dunlop, Bok was perhaps the obvious choice.

An outsider in his own right (he is the first Harvard President since the seventeenth century not to graduate from the College), Bok was younger by 15 years but still a respected scholar. He is fresh to the mainstream of Harvard politics and infighting, but he brings with him an awareness of the different constituencies to which a President must respond.

Bok talks of "beginning to trim the job to manageable dimensions"; his conception of his role in modernizing the University is "trying to influence the agenda." Already it is apparent that his primary concerns are academic. One of his highest priorities is achieving-and maintaining-contact with the student body.

Clearly, Derek Bok will not manipulate, or try to manipulate, the concentrated power base President Pusey developed over the past two decades. He fully intends to distribute he work load of Harvard's vast financial increases and turn himself to education.

Whether or not he can do this is another matter. Financial burdens, another student upheaval, or pressure from outside the University could easily subvert his intentions. He could end up five years from now repeating the sentiment Archibald Cox voiced recently that "you get to feel like a mother hen about this place after so many mornings waling brought the Yard at three o'clock, and you just want to pay back some of the debt you owe."

But Bok is in it now; there is no room, or time, for second thoughts. Perhaps the only consolation is that his professorship at the Law School will still be there 15 years from now if he wants it. He might just take it if his impression-founded in a conversation with Yale's Kingman Brewster and Chicago University President Edward Levi-is correct that "some [university] presidents enjoy their work... it is not necessarily a form of intellectual and academic suicide."