Harold Shapiro: The first five years

January 15, 1993 — Since his 1988 inauguration, the tenure of Princeton's 18th president, Harold Shapiro GS '64, has been alternately turbulent and smooth. He has been hailed as an economic genius and decried as being out of touch with students.

In many respects, Shapiro's presidency has marked a turning point in Princeton's leadership, with the chief executive formally devoting most of his time to the corporate concerns of a modern university — and not to daily student concerns.

"The problem of higher education today is that we hope that university presidents are renaissance people, but they must delegate responsibilities," said University Board of Trustees chair Robert Rawson '66.

As Shapiro brought in a new leadership style to the University, he found himself adept at managing the University's finances and steering its growth, but fumbling with student issues.

During his first five years, the student life issues plaguing him centered on three general areas — the administration's concern about discrimination and harassment issues, its commitment to women's needs and its attempt to curb increasing alcohol abuse on campus.

While some students have been disaffected by the administration's performance in those areas, faculty and administrators have praised Shapiro for faculty recruitment and sound financial management.

Under Shapiro, the University has made significant progress in expanding departments and increasing faculty. During his term, he has overseen the creation of the Center for Human Values and the Princeton Materials Institute as well as hired women and minorities as professors and administrators.

But the difficulties with student life that would beset Shapiro's tenure were evident from the start of his term. One month after he assumed control, 46 students suffered alcohol poisoning after sign-ins weekend. This was but the first incident that prompted the administration to consider a stricter alcohol policy, a process culminating in the much-ridiculed keg ban.

The dual nature of his presidency was evidenced at the same time by his broad-based budget cuts, which initially prompted criticisms from the University community. Citing potential budget deficits, Shapiro streamlined the University budget in 1988 by almost $6 million. This move eventually proved wise, as Princeton managed to avoid the financial hard times that forced some peer universities to drop entire programs.

While Shapiro's administrative finesse helped offset the University's financial concerns, student life issues continued to fester in the face of seeming indifference by the administration. It took an October 1988 protest for Shapiro to ban CIA recruiting on campus because of its anti-gay policies. And it was not until March 1990 that he restricted campus access to all recruiters with discriminatory practices. But recently without any outside pressure, Shapiro signed a letter to President-elect Billl Clinton urging him to lift the military ban on gays in the armed services.

Protests increased in 1989, with a sit-in nearly one year after he took office. The central issue — lack of student input in administrative decisions — would be a continuing theme.

A few months later, a review of Princeton's 20 years of coeducation revealed that many women felt alienated from parts of campus life. At the same time, students complained that problems of the minority community were being ignored, planting the seeds of what would become a central issue this year.

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"Shapiro reacts only if presented with a crisis," said outgoing USG president Paul McDonald '93. "This raises the question of, 'Is he really sincere?' "

Campus race relations would emerge as another example of the duality of Shapiro's presidency. While minority students criticized him for being unaware of their problems, Shapiro made it a priority to recruit minority faculty for what would become one of the strongest Afro-American studies programs in the country.

Headed by Cornel West GS '80, the program succeeded in wooing such luminaries as Toni Morrison. But despite Shapiro's administrative actions, students continued to charge that he was unreceptive to the concerns of women and minorities.

Shapiro received a further setback in May 1989, when four tenured English faculty members resigned, in part because of the University's slow punitive response to a male graduate student's accusation of sexual impropriety by professor Thomas McFarland. This incident would have bearing on the main crisis Shapiro had to face in 1989-90 — the issue of providing an adequate resource on campus for responding to sexual harassment.

The controversy erupted when the administration refused to increase the budget for the Sexual Harassment/Assault Advising, Resources and Education office and would not allow SHARE to receive outside funding. As a result, 29 students occupied Shapiro's office on April 25 and stayed for about 32 hours. Their primary demand was funding for a second full-time SHARE position. But the administration refused to accede, prompting activists to harshly denounce Shapiro and his top administrators.

Student problems continued to plague Shapiro in the new academic year as B.J. Miller '93 lost three limbs to severe burns after climbing atop the Dinky train in November 1990. Shapiro saw the incident as evidence of a growing alcohol abuse problem, despite Miller's assertion that he was not drinking.

In an unusual display of decisiveness, Shapiro less than three months later named Carl Wartenburg as "alcohol czar" and later declared a ban on kegs in August 1991, which stirred controversy because he failed to consult anyone before making the decision.

The keg ban christened what would be one of the most rocky academic years for Shapiro. In the spring, the Rodney King verdict spurred campus protests as well as reassessments of minority life. Concerned students criticized the administration for its slow response to racial harassment on and off campus by police, proctors and the University community.

Again Shapiro found himself with another list of student demands. This time minority student leaders urged the administration to draw up a separate racial harassment policy, among other actions. In response, the administration organized a committee headed by Graduate School dean Albert Raboteau to examine ways to improve minority life.

Yet many students continued to doubt Nassau Hall's commitment to race relations. It took another group of students last November to confront Shapiro during his office hours to take more decisive steps. As a result, he appointed Vice Provost Ruth Simmons as the point person for minority concerns.

The inability of these initiatives to appease students further perpetuated the apparent chasm between Shapiro the administrator and Shapiro the leader of the University community.

"It is clear that his job here is not to address issues of student life," McDonald said. "He is here primarily for financial reasons."

The other major issue of the year arose when a faculty group Shapiro had convened issued a report advocating that the University adopt a four-year residential college system. Most students disagreed with the findings — as did Shapiro, eventually.

This academic year represents an important landmark in his term. Provost Hugo Sonnenschein's recent announcement that he would depart to head the University of Chicago leaves a question of just what direction Shapiro will take the University in the future.

While Shapiro's administration underwent substantial turnover two years ago with the arrival of Sonnenschein, Simmons and Raboteau, those changes were widely interpreted as Shapiro wanting to get his own people in place. Sonnenschein's departure, however, has different implications. Students and faculty saw the provost as the more personable side of Nassau Hall, absorbing the responsibility for running the University's day-to-day operations. Whomever Shapiro picks as his replacement will be key in determining the role Shapiro envisioned for his top administrators as well as himself.

It is clear Shapiro has been pondering a vision of Princeton's future. With the launching of the Strategic Planning Committee less than two years ago and his recent decision to supplant Sonnenschein as its coordinator, Shapiro hopes for nothing less than to see the University determine its needs and direction for the next 25 years.

It still remains to be seen, however, if he can overcome the student perception that he is the chief executive officer of a Fortune 500 company rather than the president of a leading university.