Power and Entitlement

Nearly 5 years ago I wrote an article, "Law Faculty Ethics: Shirking, Capture and “The Matrix,”" 82 DETROIT MERCY LAW REVIEW 397 (2005), in which I identified the many ways I felt law professors were shirkers. I analogized it to regulatory capture in the sense that faculty who were supposed to govern law schools for the benefit of shareholders -- students, taxpayers, donors -- actually governed to benefit themselves. The range of questionable activities ran from teaching specialized low enrollment courses because the topic was of interest to the teacher (but not to very many students) to foreign boondoggles, pushing ideology in the classroom, and hiring and tenure decisions based on social and political considerations rather than the merits of the candidates. Over on Classbias, where I do most of my complaining about law professor behavior, I attribute much of this to a sense of entitlement.

I realize that many disagree but if you think I am a little bit right, a recent article in the Economist (January 23, 2010) is quite interesting. Psychologists were able to induce in subjects a sense of power or powerlessness. They then asked questions about the rightness or morality of various corrupt acts. Consistently the subjects with power viewed the same sleazy acts as less immoral when they did them than when those with less power did them. In short, power does corrupt.

The kicker in this was a further step. The experiments were repeated by adding the factor of a sense of entitlement. That is, some people were led to believe they deserved their positions of power while others were led to believe the opposite. Here, as you might expect, those with a sense of entitlement were more likely to abuse their power and not understand why there was a problem. After all, they are special.

This may help explain some faculty behavior. After all, law faculties are largely populated by children of privilege. (I wonder what the record is for the most expensive education. I think we have it.) Many times their sense of entitlement is over the top. They deserve, therefore, to teach what they want to teach at the time they want to teach it, they deserve that new furniture or to vote yes on tenure for a pal because they have been told, since birth, that they are special. Some have a virtually infinite capacity to explain why they are deserving and why they are on the moral high road whether or not they are. I am convinced that the most dangerous ones are those who have no sense at all of how their power and sense of entitlement affect their behavior. I'd say in hiring, a law school would do well to hire those without a sense of entitlement although I am not sure how one tests that other than taking a closer look at the socioeconomic background.

Having said all this, it is clear that it does not quite all fit together so simply. Looking at my own faculty which is as heavily populated by children of privilege as any other, I am not sure the corruption level is all that high. In fact "corruption" is not really on point. Self referential decision making and obliviousness to the welfare of the stakeholders is more accurate. It appears mainly in hiring or tenure decisions when people allow social and political factors to influence their votes or even the veracity of their reports on a candidate's reviews. I am not an administrator so I have no way of knowing how demanding people are with respect to exactly the right schedule or for extra travel money or research support. Maybe the most "corrupt" thing going on is looking the other way when someone else is engaged in an activity that cannot be linked to the welfare of the stakeholders. I attribute this to indifference and log rolling but it is shirking nonetheless.

More importantly, not all those with an elite education seem to feel entitled. Far from it. Plus, some of those who do not have an elite education seem to feel an extreme sense of entitlement. Maybe all that can be said is those with the elite educations are more likely to have a sense of entitlement and more likely to justify their anti stakeholder activities than those without the same background.

I'd still like to avoid hiring the privileged for reasons of diversity and because there is no known correlation between how highly ranked a school is and how productive its graduates will be as law professors. But when it comes to the corrupting potential of a sense of entitlement, it would nice to assess it directly by administering to each candidate an "entitlement test."

My Favorite Motions

Faculty meetings may have their charms, but efficiency does not rank among them. Many a time I have looked around a room full of my colleagues, long minutes into a winding discussion of what was supposed to take only a few moments to resolve, considered the full agenda still stretching before us, and bemoaned the deadweight social costs of law school governance. Allow me, then, to share a couple of partial cures—one an old favorite and the other a new find—from Robert's Rules of Order.

I've long been a fan of "calling the question," as we casually style the motion at my school. Full-on Robert's geeks know it as the "Previous Question" motion. Call it what you like, you have to love its effect: It takes precedence over every debatable question and, if the motion carries, forces a vote on the issue under debate.

Suppose, for instance, that a handful of faculty members have been arguing back and forth about some relatively inconsequential motion for 20 minutes or so, as everyone else's attention wanders and more important business goes untended. You get the Chair to recognize you and simply say, "I move to call the question." Once the motion carries—and often with sighs of relief—you and your colleagues can vote on the trifling motion and move on to other topics. (Section 20 of the Rules offers caveats and details, but most law school faculties seem to manage, surprisingly enough, with less than the full panoply of formalities.) Try calling a question the next time a faculty meeting starts spinning its wheels. You—and most your colleagues—will enjoy the ride.

Calling the question does not cure all the inefficiencies that afflict faculty meetings, however. Because we law profs so love to hear ourselves speak, for instance, we sometimes run on (and on and on) a bit. Polite coughs, finger drumming, and the like usually suffices to keep our monopolizing tendencies in control, happily. In fact, it was only very recently that I found myself wondering what a fellow could do when those informal measures failed. Here, too, Robert's Rules offers a remedy: a Question of Order pertaining to decorum.

Roberts Rule's provides, in § 34, that "no member shall speak more than twice to the same question . . . nor longer than ten minutes at one time, without leave of the assembly, and the question upon granting the leave shall be decided by a two-thirds vote [§ 39] without debate." Upon encountering an infraction of that rule, you have the right to interrupt the speaker. As section 14 says, one who so objects "shall rise from his seat, and say, 'Mr. Chairman, I rise to a point of order.'" The Chair must then decide the issue immediately, without debate. If the Chair finds the challenged speaker out of order, and if anyone objects to the speaker continuing, he or she must cede the floor unless the assembly votes to grant leave.

That sounds like strong medicine, granted, and would doubtless ruffle some feathers. But faculty meetings pose a classic tragedy of the commons, one where just a few overly-talkative people risk consuming far more than their fair share of everyone else's time and attention. Raising a Question of Order can help you save you—and thus your school—from the perils of a grossly inefficient faculty meeting.

[Crossposted at Agoraphilia, MoneyLaw.]