Most of us have had this experience with one of the many heads of the administrative hydra:
Student: “Hi, I’d like to do X event on Low Plaza for X worthy cause.”
Hydra: “Mmm, I see. Will there be any props used? Will there be banners or posters? Will you get tape residue on the stone walls?”
Student: “Actually, we were thinking of taping up some big signs to get attention...”
Hydra: “LOW PLAZA MUST LOOK LIKE AN ADMISSIONS PAMPHLET AT ALL TIMES.”
In other words, the Columbia bureaucracy feels (a) defensive, (b) instinctively mistrustful of students, and (c) unslayable. In our experience, this is not an uncommon feeling among students, faculty, and the occasional innocent bystander.
We’ve commented before on Columbia’s poor community-building tactics. Lerner 6 could have provided an ideal remedy, but instead the administration gobbled up more prime real estate at student expense. With claims of consolidating the community, the administration consolidates its authority instead.
But Columbia has recently deployed a new strategy to turn itself from unapproachable beast into part of a “community”—an “online community,” as it turns out. The proliferation of administration-related blogs, specialized Web sites, Twitter feeds, and Facebook pages is an attempt to increase interaction. Every department has something shiny online and seems genuinely interested in getting students to visit. Unfortunately, being a fan of the Center for Student Advising on Facebook is meaningless. We’ve always found avatar relationships lacking in the “meaningful communication” department.
More to the point, there’s a tone problem in communication between students and administrators, no matter how you blog it. Every meeting is a confrontation where suspicion reigns. The banality of bureaucracy makes it difficult to figure out where policy actually originates, so students climbing the ladder in search of information are told “It’s not my decision” at every rung. Viewed in this light, it’s clear that the recent spat of Web 2.0 efforts is a technological solution to a cultural problem.
There are a number of useful changes that might be made, but a solid first step would be to consider students with an open mind, assume that their desires to use the campus are genuine, and, for lack of a more dignified phrase, talk to them like adults. It’s not the act of spamming us with policy changes—we do appreciate updates. It’s the tone in which the message is conveyed. Communities aren’t built on formal e-mails and town hall meetings. They come from smaller, informal interactions where familiarity develops and trust is formed. It may seem a minor point, but when was the last time you saw Bollinger sitting on a bench on College Walk, speaking casually with a Columbian? Considering how much time we spend together, why not exchange more than perfunctory greetings?
We can actually see an example of this shift at the national level. In sharp contrast to George W. Bush, President Obama speaks to the American people with mutual respect and a recognition that people understand the complexities of issues ranging from race to health care. He doesn’t use overly erudite language, but he is willing to broach controversial topics with clear, rational arguments. It’s this change in tone, with Obama’s pioneering of Web 2.0, that marks the president’s communication success. Technology can facilitate openness, but it does not create it.
Our own administration could benefit from replicating Obama’s success, talking to students more openly about why things work the way they do and communicating with other offices so that knowledge is not so specialized. It’s evident to anyone who has interacted with our administration that the heads aren’t all talking to one another. Try asking a facilities person about a residential life problem or a dining services person about your Flex account. Any process that involves multiple departments is a major headache, simply because Hartley doesn’t seem to know what’s going on in Kent or Dodge or Lerner. It only heightens our sense of intentional obfuscation.
Obama also demonstrates that transparent communication doesn’t negate authority. Over the past three years, numerous situations have arisen when administrators have hidden behind formality and rigidity in a misguided attempt to maintain control. We’re not sure if Columbia remains institutionally haunted by the chaos of ‘68, if bureaucracies have a natural tendency toward density, or if the College Administrator Guidebook just advises that all students are miserable schmucks. But we do know that with a change of attitude, the administration could be an aid instead of a many-headed beast.
Sarah Leonard is a Columbia College senior majoring in history. Kate Redburn is a Columbia College senior majoring in history and African studies. Shock and Awe runs alternate Fridays. opinion@columbiaspectator.com
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