University Leadership and Accountability
Former Columbia University President Lee C. Bollinger has put forward a book that, while intriguing, seems to skirt around the significant issues universities face today. It touches on topics like weak leadership and accountability but gets lost in a sense of nostalgia for a so-called “community of scholars.”
One may wonder, why do university presidents not openly oppose this notion? Bollinger’s approach comes off as well-structured and bureaucratic, yet it lacks the rawness often seen in more partisan discussions, typical of cable news.
He portrays universities as almost perfect institutions and redirects the blame for their troubles toward figures like Trump and the federal government.
Scouted by WW Norton Editor-in-Chief Dan Gerstle for his upcoming lectures in spring 2025, Bollinger’s goal is to remind readers of the pivotal role American universities play in society. Although there is validity to his argument, it feels somewhat superficial.
Bollinger, a constitutional law expert, aims to link the First Amendment with the identity of educational institutions, arguing that they are inherently tied together. However, he doesn’t quite convince the reader—his prose feels more like a polished speech than an in-depth analysis.
The heart of the issue arises when he identifies external threats to higher education, namely “outsiders” and particularly Donald Trump. This paints the former president as a new antagonist in the ongoing culture wars, suggesting that perhaps the book was hastily published to align with this narrative.
Bollinger isn’t just a distant commentator; he is deeply entrenched in elite academic and political circles. His composed demeanor often serves as a barrier to understanding these complex conflicts.
The structure of the book is segmented into three parts: “Universities,” “The First Amendment,” and “Fifth Branch.” Bollinger argues that if news organizations represent a “fourth branch” of government, then universities deserve similar status.
I frequently discuss the idealized view of universities that many parents and alumni hold, which becomes a kind of marketing narrative. Bollinger embodies this sentiment, presenting his institution as a beacon of noble purpose and largely unblemished governance, interspersed with moments of “organized anarchy”—a term he uses to describe predictable disruptions within a complicated system.
He even goes so far as to encourage readers to immerse themselves in the university experience to truly appreciate the positive potential of education. Many might wish to believe in this ideal, and Bollinger seems to be banking on that hope.
This is where the growing concern comes in.
The book’s strongest writing appears in the opening chapter where Bollinger provides what he claims is an insider’s look at university operations. He categorizes institutions into various levels (individual, university, system), presenting an analysis that might resonate with those familiar with political science. While the intent seems analytical, the presentation sounds authoritative—yet it overlooks a crucial aspect of campus life.
He focuses heavily on academic perspectives while largely ignoring students and their experiences, often framed as “student success.” This isn’t just a minor oversight; it’s a fundamental omission of an ongoing struggle.
Modern universities operate more as sprawling bureaucracies than as faculty-led educational centers. Student affairs personnel often outnumber professors and act as ideological educators through various programs—workshops, wellness initiatives, and diversity offices—with the influence of external nonprofit organizations shaping their methods.
This shift isn’t merely an add-on; it’s very much the core of the narrative. Bollinger fails to confront this reality directly, which leaves readers without a meaningful understanding of how universities actually function, especially given the chaos that has erupted on campuses since 2020.
Student affairs have become significantly intertwined with left-leaning ideologies, yet Bollinger maintains an image of universities functioning smoothly while attributing the real threat to external entities. I can’t help but feel he’s engaging in a sort of nostalgia, portraying universities as bastions of truth, overseen by wise leadership—a vision many alumni hope to believe still exists.
This idealization, however, doesn’t hold up under scrutiny. It masks the fact that many universities have become engines of profit and ideological repetition, paying lip service to their fee-paying constituents while reinforcing internal bureaucracies.
Bollinger himself enjoys substantial prestige, with reported compensation exceeding $5 million annually, reflecting a disconnect that adds to the complexity of this narrative.
During his presidency at the University of Michigan, he took part in affirmative action cases, highlighting successes while glossing over failures. Such language may mislead casual readers into thinking victories were more widespread than they actually were.
In his current role, he has contributed to building enduring administrative frameworks in response to social upheaval, unlike many of his peers who have expressed regret over their knee-jerk reactions.
Overall, Bollinger stands as an example of the new educational elite, administrators tendering themselves as protectors of academic integrity while simultaneously enhancing their own influence and resources, often at the cost of faculty authority. He embodies what many believe a 21st-century university leader should not be.
In “University: A Reckoning,” he calls for a vision of a university that seems to be fading away. His lack of transparency ultimately leaves readers with scant insight into the realities facing higher education, especially amid its growing failures.





