FOCUSING ON WHAT REALLY MATTERS

Before responding to the individual points made by Weyland, it might be asked whether this discussion even matters. Given all of the challenges facing higher education, debating the standards for full professor promotion may be fiddling while Rome burns. Furthermore, it might be seen as part of a pattern whereby research universities are preoccupied by factors that distract from more important questions. For example, we care intensely about “rankings” and “prestige” but, in the grand scheme of things, whether your department is ranked 10 or 100 is irrelevant. Whether your department’s faculty publish in American Political Science Review or American Politics Research is irrelevant. Whether a prospective graduate student enrolls in your department or a similar department is irrelevant. Academia is in a fight for its future. Will the last person to publish an unnecessarily teched-up article in a “top three” journal please turn out the lights?

These insular concerns overlook the crucial issue we all face: making the case for the value of higher education to taxpayers, parents, lawmakers, students, employers, philanthropists, voters, and society. I am optimistic that we can do so, but it may require a new set of academic priorities—that is, less of the status games that can animate academic life and more of a focus on how our work benefits society. As Boyer (1990, xiii) noted decades ago, “It’s time to end the suffocating practice in which colleges and universities measure themselves far too frequently by external status rather than by values determined by their own distinctive mission.”

While this topic is beyond the scope of my article, we might consider how the culture of research universities—particularly the focus on rankings and prestige—can become counterproductive. Specialized research is critical for many aspects of our economy, culture, society, and national security, but faculties should do a better job of focusing on substance rather than fixating on format. Technology assists with this; for example, Google Scholar citations draw attention to the impact of an article rather than the journal that published it. However, this is externally generated change, and our challenge is to create internal cultural change in a way that advances an enlightened self-interest.

To do so, academics must better appreciate the complexities of the higher-education ecosystem. In the case of full professor promotions, rather than narrowing the criteria for moving up, I argue that academia is best served by rewarding the broader contributions of faculty to universities and society. This includes not only teaching and service but also policy-relevant research and translating academic research to the public (Flinders Reference Flinders2013; Neely and Coggburn Reference Neely and Coggburn2017; Waterman and Wood Reference Waterman and Dan Wood1992). To devalue this, even at research universities, takes us in the wrong direction and puts our collective future (further) at risk.

WEYLAND’S ARGUMENT: MODESTY, CAUTION, DELAY

Weyland (2015, 341) noted that his article “addresses normative questions, which cannot be adjudicated by empirical research” and is consequently “an opinion piece rather than an analysis with scientific-truth claims.” This article evaluates his advice in a similar manner and provides alternative perspectives for associate professors considering promotion and for institutions evaluating candidates.

Similar to Weyland, I primarily discuss research universities, in which I have spent my career. Nevertheless, publication is now a factor in tenure and promotion decisions in a wider range of colleges and universities than previously; in these instances, promotion requirements may be increasing. Different institutions have different priorities, however, and even similar institutions may have different goals at varying stages in their history. For example, a university that wants to join the American Association of Universities (AAU) might decide to adopt stricter tenure and promotion standards, in which case Weyland’s arguments may better resonate.

Weyland (2015, 341) began with the useful point that the standards for full professor promotion are vague and often not discussed. He noted the difficulty of setting “concrete criteria and specific recommendations” that “go beyond general principles.” Nevertheless, he advocated a specific standard for departments: a record that is “equivalent to their tenure criteria.” This requires “strict evaluations of colleagues’ publication efforts and success,” and he added that “Promotion decisions must result in a clear net improvement in faculty quality.”

Rather than emphasizing a top-down solution, Weyland (2015, 344) refreshingly put the ball in the candidate’s court. Associate professors should wait until they have achieved this “incontrovertible record of scholarly research and publications” (but not teaching and service, apparently). Moreover, this was argued to be for the candidates’ own good, especially in terms of their academic reputation in the eyes of departmental, university, and professional audiences. These people might think worse of a candidate who, as Weyland (2015, 344) stated, “falls or limps across the finish line.” Candidates therefore should forfeit the short-term benefits of immediate promotion (e.g., a raise) for longer-term reputational gains.

LOOKING TO LATIN FOR GUIDANCE

As a former high school Latin student, I appreciated Weyland’s subtitle, In Dubio Pro Patientia (i.e., “When in doubt, it is advisable to be patient”). This also references his 2011 article on tenure subtitled “In Dubio Contra ‘Reum,’” but it is not a saying from antiquity. I found several other In Dubios long in circulation, which might provide alternative guidance for our professional behavior.

The first is In dubio pro reo that (according to Oxford Reference online) means “When in doubt, in favor of the defendant.” In this case, the “defendant” is the associate professor who does not meet a high research bar. What should the department and university do? In dubio pro reo suggests that we should err on the side of the candidate.

Would this mean a lowering of standards that ultimately harms the department, the university, and higher education more generally? We might understand In dubio pro reo as focusing on what candidates have accomplished instead of pointing to what they have not. In particular, full professor promotion is not necessarily the same as the earlier tenure decision. Weyland stated that research productivity should be the same; however, many universities are willing to consider broader standards for full professor promotion—such as service (both internal and external) and teaching. If candidates have a record of achievement along these dimensions, then these factors should be considered. This does not absolve associate professors of the need to publish—and many who do not will unavoidably remain in rank—but even research universities might be catholic in determining what counts toward promotion.

A related ancient saying is In dubio pro natura: “When in doubt, in favor of nature.” In this case, “nature” can be interpreted as our academic ecosystem. Is it best to bottle up associate professors because of what they did not do? What does this mean for the recognition of work that goes beyond publications and that benefits universities in multiple ways?

After discussing tenure, Weyland (Reference Weyland2011) observed that “Winning the big prize of permanent employment could, in principle, make academics complacent, lead them to prematurely accept time-consuming administrative appointments, and weaken their concentration on research and writing.” This suggests that “administration” is less important than research and should be postponed until later in a career—or avoided altogether.

However, our academic ecosystem requires faculty to engage in a wide variety of activities throughout their career. The professor who recently received tenure may be appropriate for an important administrative appointment. If that role is accepted, the institution should value this work at promotion time. Would the faculty and students of the institution be better off if that professor instead had written another journal article (or two, or a dozen)? Because a smoothly functioning administration is invisible to faculty does not mean that it can be taken for granted. If we do not reward faculty for efforts that make our scholarly lives possible, then we all will suffer the consequences.

This discussion touches on points made by Boyer (1990, xi), who noted that after World War II, “the faculty reward system narrowed at the very time the mission of American higher education was expanding.” He argued that as the work of the professoriate shifted from teaching to research, many students and faculty alike lost out. Students lost because teaching and advising were not rewarded; faculty lost because they could not fully engage in many of the activities that initially drew them to the academy: “[t]heir love for teaching or for service—even for making the world a better place” (Boyer Reference Boyer1990, xii). The nation as a whole also lost because universities became less able to solve societal problems. Boyer (1990, xii) concluded that “the rich diversity and potential of American higher education cannot be fully realized if campus missions are too narrowly defined or if the faculty reward system is inappropriately restricted.”

INCENTIVES AND AUDIENCES

Weyland acknowledged that individuals may have rational reasons to go for full professor, such as a raise and a greater voice in departmental governance. However, the incentives and disincentives that encourage associate professors to apply for promotion may be more substantial than his article stated. One problem with waiting is that the standard may go up. Applying for promotion after a dozen years may (and perhaps should) require more publications than after six years. In addition, the longer associate professors stay in rank, the more they may lose the opportunity to move. My impression is that most departments would prefer to hire a new PhD, an advanced assistant, or a full professor rather than an associate professor.

Moreover, remaining in rank too long may cause professional embarrassment. The number of years as an associate professor is clearly indicated on a CV, typically on the first page (although some academics omit such data). The faster the promotion, the better the CV looks. If it takes 15 years, few will think, “He must have waited until he was well over the bar.” They will think he was slow to produce post-tenure and/or encountered other difficulties, which could harm his reputation.

The audience factor also may be more complex than described in Weyland’s article. Departments, higher administration, and the discipline have different values—there is no single uniform standard for promotion. Departments generally have the narrowest view; they want large numbers of “good”—meaning “prestigious”—publications. They sometimes avoid discussions of quality because these can be contentious and uncertain. In theory, letter writers provide an unbiased, outsider’s perspective, but they are increasingly positive and decreasingly useful (a subject that requires another article).

Higher administrative levels may value factors that departments frequently do not, including institutional service, disciplinary service, overall visibility and prominence, and teaching. The gatekeepers at these levels are more likely to value this sum total of contributions than is a department. If a file includes achievement in these areas, the odds of promotion are higher than departmental colleagues may think. If candidates encounter disagreement about whether they should go up—for example, the department wants them to wait, whereas the provost encourages them to try—this likely reflects these differences in perspective.

For academics at the associate-professor stage, when should they go up for promotion? Weyland believes that whereas associate professors are tempted to do so as soon as possible, it is in their best interest to wait. He identified various costs to candidates who jump the gun. In particular, he believes that a professor “who receives a ringing endorsement gains a clear boost in reputation, but a colleague who falls or limps across the finish line suffers a significant reduction in standing” (Weyland Reference Weyland2015, 344). All of those involved in the latter case—department colleagues, letter writers, and administrators—will somehow think less of a candidate.

Will going up for promotion when a candidate thinks it is best lead to an adverse disciplinary reaction or a fall in disciplinary standing? My experience is that there is no all-seeing, all-knowing academic panopticon that is aware of promotion cases. Academics understand that associate professors want to advance to the next level. Consequently, who inside or outside of the institution will hold it against a candidate for trying at the earliest reasonable time? Weyland (2015, 344) believes that assessments by “internal and external evaluators” create an impression that “likely persists and has a lasting impact.” However, it is doubtful whether many will blame candidates for taking an opportunity for promotion that is ultimately supported by their institution.

Weyland argued that scholars overestimate their achievements; therefore, they might be tempted to go up for promotion too early. Is this the right way to think about promotion? The standard is not relative ranking in a discipline but rather the specific standards at an institution. Associate professors must estimate when they have crossed the bar, and there is no need to jump 10 feet over it by delaying the decision for a few more years. Olympic track-and-field athletes receive medals for clearing bars, not for the distance by which they clear them. By the time typical scholars have worked for at least six years post-tenure, they likely can assess the full professor promotion bar at their university.

THE “STANDARDS” TRAP

The word “standards” appears 21 times in Weyland’s article and “quality” is used nine times. Although these factors are important and unavoidable components of tenure and promotion decisions, we might ask what they can mean in practice. My concern is that these terms can lead to anti-intellectualism in the academy (Hoffman Reference Hoffman2017). The word “standards” often is interpreted as requiring a specific and narrow type of scholarly contribution. If publication prestige and research quality are the two main academic dimensions, then the former is essential and the latter is debatable. This means that, in practice, departments and universities often subcontract all or part of their decisions to the publishers, editors, and reviewers of the “prestige” journals and presses.

One problem is that the claims to authority of these outlets are weakening. For instance, the share of citations from the traditional “high-impact” journals is declining (Cossins Reference Cossins2012; Larivière, Gingras, and Archambault Reference Larivière, Gingras and Archambault2009). This indicates that important work is published in a variety of outlets; technology such as Google Scholar allows us to find and cite it better than in the past. The discipline, therefore, must appreciate this work rather than simply assume that the best research is in the journals and presses that we were taught to worship in graduate school.

In addition to “standards” and “quality,” academia might better consider “innovative,” “diverse,” “emerging,” and “alternative.” This is a difficult issue because most scholars are politically liberal but deeply conservative in terms of their willingness to accept change. My impression is that disciplinary rhetoric in favor of studying innovative and diverse topics has long outpaced reality. For example, the Bush, Obama, and Trump presidencies brought to the fore issues of race, class, ethnicity, religion, and migration. These subjects have long played important roles in American politics, but the political science discipline arguably has been slow to acknowledge them as key parts of its scholarly enterprise. These topics have been considered more tangential than central and are only slowly gaining an acceptance beyond lip service. The discipline well might reassess its priorities because scholars in other fields of study may have more to say about contemporary American politics than those who study it more traditionally.

According to this perspective, the “standards” of political science and its quest for “quality” have deemphasized and displaced emerging and innovative ideas in favor of more standard, incremental work on traditional topics. Far from improving scholarship, this has weakened our ability to understand the political world around us. In many departments, a doubling down on tenure and promotion “standards” and “quality” will only worsen the situation.

IF PROMOTION AIN’T BROKE, DON’T FIX IT

Therefore, I do not see a full professor promotion problem that needs correction or reform. Given the success of some people in gaining promotion and the failure of others, the system seems to be working well. If the process was failing fundamentally in consequential ways, departments and universities would make corrections. Some likely do over time, but most undoubtedly have set standards that balance various personal and institutional needs, thereby sustaining local academic ecosystems.

Weyland also wrote that the ambiguity in the promotion process creates problems for universities and candidates. However, my experience is that institutions have ambiguities when they serve useful purposes. Given the many factors that the promotion decision appropriately entails, departments and universities want flexibility in assessments. This may create some problems, but too explicit a benchmark would be worse. The current system provides general guidelines while also reserving the final decision to university leaders with the widest perspective. Such flexibility also allows for decisions that consider a university’s goals and aspirations, which may change over time.

With tongue in cheek, I conclude by asking how academia has survived the plague of overly ambitious associate professors identified by Weyland. Our collective lives presumably would be improved if many had delayed going up—some to the point of never being promoted—but I am not sure about the mechanisms. Weyland linked stringent promotion criteria with a more dynamic research environment, higher morale among research-intensive faculties, increased departmental rankings, and better graduate students. As this article suggests, I am skeptical of his claims—but, even if true, I doubt whether most matter to the challenges facing higher education today.