Issue link: http://www.e-digitaleditions.com/i/58060
Even though a "promotion" to dean put me in a much more visible academic position, my scholarly reputation was quickly at risk. A dean, on the other hand, always has to be thinking about the welfare of others. This came home to me a few years ago when some of our graduate students were preparing to go to Latin America as part of their required foreign tour. There had been serious disturbances in Argentina, and people were rioting in the streets. The MBA director asked me, "What do we do?" As a professor, I might have said, "It's important to me, and I still want to go!" But as the dean, I could not be so self- focused. This was, in effect, a risk management situation. I realized, "I have to think this through and consider the wel- fare of all those involved." Ultimately, we decided to change the itinerary and avoid that country. To me, making that decision was a challenge involving ethical leadership. Related to this sense of responsibility for others is the issue of accountability. In my view, accountability and responsibil- ity are two different things. Responsible individuals are self-monitoring; they behave according to personal values and accept any consequences for actions and outcomes. On the other hand, individuals who must explain their actions to someone else are being held accountable. Naturally, as a professor, I was both responsible and accountable, but I had a fairly limited set of constituents. As dean, I represent everyone at the school. I'm in the middle of a set of relationships that both demand respon- sibility and create accountability. I have to face my faculty when the provost doesn't give us any money for raises or when I fail to secure a big endowment. I have to explain to the provost why my faculty aren't publishing more or why faculty teaching evaluations are low. And yet, it's not my day job to publish or teach; once again I must influence others if I'm to be successful in my job. I'm accountable, not just for my own behavior, but for the behavior of others. I'm also accountable to a great variety of stakehold- ers—students, parents, alumni, and donors, as well as the school's faculty and staff and the university administration. This means that anything I do not only reflects on me but on my school, and anything my staff does reflects on me. The pressure can be awesome. Acting as Figurehead An area where both responsibility and accountability obli- gations come together is in the dean's role as figurehead, or symbolic leader of the business school. At times, as dean, I have participated in legal activities, such as signing a memorandum of understanding. At other times, I have carried out more social duties, such as hosting a major guest of the university. 42 BizEd JULY/AUGUST 2007 The figurehead role is most visible at ceremonies. Some are traditional and involve great ritual. For example, every semester I welcome each cohort of graduate students. Every spring, I preside over a convoca- tion for graduating students and their families. Last year, I shook hands with no fewer than 865 individuals as they walked across the stage. It was a very joyful event. At times, being a figurehead requires managing far less pleasant ceremonies. That was the case when I hosted the service commemorating the untimely death of a faculty member. Most recently, this kind of responsibility fell to me as George Mason tried to do its part to deal with the great tragedy that took place at Virginia Tech, our neighboring state university in Blacksburg. Even as I was trying to work out for myself the meaning of what had happened on that campus, I was expected to speak publicly to and on behalf of my business school constituents. Certainly, such somber occasions arise for all of us, whether we are professors, fam- ily members, or friends. But it seems they occur with greater frequency and carry more gravitas for deans. Keeping Connections Not only does the role of dean come with great responsibil- ity, it also potentially entails some sacrifices. The first thing former professors might find themselves giving up when they become deans is their connection to their disciplines and their students. As a faculty member coming up through the ranks, I had an identity that was firmly rooted in my field. Over the years, I had enjoyed some acclaim for my scholarly contributions. But a dean typically has much less time to devote to research and writing. Even though a "promotion" to dean put me in a much more visible academic position, my scholarly reputa- tion was quickly at risk.