The Dean’s Disease: How the Darker Side of Power Manifests Itself in the Office of Dean

Commentators since the time of Greek dramatist Sophocles have noted that the exercise of power often produces strong psychological changes in people. As power holders, deans comprise far too few exceptions to this insight. Early in their tenure new deans are generally grateful for the confidence placed in them by their former colleagues and are eager to work together in changing “the system” to eliminate unjust privileges and practices. But soon feelings of overwhelming gratitude and oneness become faint memories. Within months of taking office, such feelings undergo a transformation so subtle that those affected are unaware of changes in their thinking and behavior. As described by psychologist David Kipnis (1984), power holders, in general, and as I argue here, a certain subcategory of deans, unknowingly “become puffed up with their own importance” (p. 30). Just as subtly, the exercise of power changes their view of themselves and of others. Kipnis (1976) has labeled these changes the “metamorphic effects of power” and has suggested they offer tacit evidence for Lord Acton’s famous admonition that “power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” The metamorphic effects of power are at first imperceptible, but quickly act to change humanitarian impulses. As observed by psychoanalyst Manfred Kets de Vries (1991), being in the top position influences the way others relate to power holders, and this in turn affects their thinking and, then, behavior. Whereas these changes may take place in individuals occupying any higher level position, the role of dean in a traditional academic college is so unique as to magnify their consequences. This uniqueness stems from an absence of objective and immediate measures of performance combined with arcane governance procedures that may permit some deans to hold office for years without being confronted by those who disagree with their judgments (Julius, Baldridge, & Pfeffer, 1999). With the flush of initial success that often accompanies new deans’ “honeymoon” period, they may develop a sense of superiority that makes it difficult for their faculty to communicate with them. Although describing the nature of CEO power, Kets de Vries (1991) artfully captures the transformation that soon follows, as real dialogue is no longer tolerated and up-and-coming deans seem to be more interested in maintaining a high public profile than in discussing the basis for their decisions. If faculty wish to stay in the “inner circle,” they will take care not to ruffle any decanal feathers and only communicate views that reflect the superiority of their dean’s ideas. I call this series of changes the “dean’s disease,” a malady that may be irreversible and potentially fatal. In doing so, I wish to make an immediate disclaimer that I am not contending the following observations apply to all deans, but that they do apply to many. Nor do I claim that the symptoms associated with the dean’s disease are not present in higher level academic administrators. After all most academic topsiders were once I am indebted to Achilles A. Armenakis, W. Jack Duncan, and Hubert S. Feild for vetting an earlier draft manuscript and for innumerable conversations, over many years, about the mysteries and absurdities of academic administration. The keen observations of Claire T. Feild, Patti B. Gunter, Richard T. Mowday, Michael J. Stahl, and Pamela L. Perrewé have been most helpful. The kindness of Harrison G. Gough, Manfred F. R. Kets des Vries, and Harry Levinson in sharing their insights into the “dean’s disease” and for identifying relevant literature is gratefully acknowledged.