Two recent academic-tinged scandals in college athletics seem saturated in political correctness.

At the University of North Carolina, some student-athletes (as well as some non-athletes) benefited from taking no-show classes. The university brought in former governor Jim Martin to conduct a blue-ribbon review; Martin's report indicated that the problem was solely on the academic side of things, and the controversy was supposed to go away.

All of the no-show classes came from a single department--African, African-American, and Diaspora Studies. The UNC website currently indicates that 14 professors teach in the department. (Some have joint appointments with other departments.) Then-department chairman Julius Nyang'oro was forced into retirement, but there's no indication that the department suffered in any way: it wasn't placed into receivership, it doesn't appear to have lost any faculty lines, and apparently the department's budget wasn't reduced.

UNC consistently described the event as solely an academic scandal--and yet took no meaningful action against the department that violated all academic norms. Would the administration have been so passive if the offending department had been biology, or computer science?

In the event, the latest exposé in the case from the Raleigh News & Observer gave the lie to the UNC administration's assurances. N&O reporter Dan Kane uncovered newly-released e-mails--e-mails that the Martin Commission either did not see or simply ignored--showing that Nyang'oro "had a cozy relationship with the program that tutored athletes, even as UNC officials had "said the Academic Support Program for Student Athletes did not collaborate with Nyang'oro or his department manager." UNC officials were either unreachable or simply misled (claiming that the e-mails had no new information) in response to Kame's queries.

If the scandal had affected biology or computer science, rather than a center of campus political correctness, would an apparent attempt to cover up the extent of the wrongdoing have occurred?

Another type of athletics-related academic scandal surfaced a few days ago at Harvard. Each year, the NCAA releases an APR (academic progress rate) for all Division I athletics programs. To avoid some form of sanctions, teams need a minimum score of 925 (on a 1000-point level) over a four-year period. This is a very low threshold, and normally only catches a handful of poorly-funded teams. (UConn basketball's postseason ban last year was a rare exception to this pattern.)

Normally, and for unsurprising reasons, Ivy League teams do very well in the APR. Take, for instance, Brown's most recent figures for its men's teams:  991 (football), 989 (men's basketball), ice hockey (1000). Harvard is similarly high--except in one sport, men's basketball, which won the school's first NCAA tournament game this season. The rolling four-year average was 956, by far the lowest in the Ivy League. The annual APR's were even lower--as the statistical site NYCbuckets noted, the annual APR has dropped three years in a row, with it ranking at a sanctions-level 914 and 925 in the two most recent years. By comparison, the APR for the men's basketball team at the University of Kentucky was 963.

There's been no indication that Harvard's diversity-obsessed president, Drew Faust, has any problems with the academic performance of the team, helmed by the school's only African-American coach, Tommy Amaker. Indeed, just last month, the Harvard Foundation conferred upon Amaker the Harvard Foundation Leadership Award for Outstanding Leadership in Harvard Athletics and Excellence in Fostering Character, Integrity, and Intercultural Cooperation in College Athletics.

If the Harvard golf team had the lowest APR in the league, and had a lower APR than a national program not exactly known for its academic rigor, would President Faust have remained silent? 

In the ideal world, academic unions stand as guardians of academic freedom. In the real world, too often they cling to the status quo, resisting needed reforms, opposing meritocracy, and working to stifle campus dissent. Then there's the CUNY faculty union (the Professional Staff Congress), whose leading figures act as if their goal in life is to give all academic unions a bad name.

The PSC's latest gambit has been to rally opposition to Pathways, the CUNY-wide general education program proposed by just-retired chancellor Matthew Goldstein, designed to ease intra-CUNY transfers and enhance students' opportunities to take a diverse array of upper-division electives. Given that the current union leadership opposed every attempt by Goldstein to improve quality at CUNY, it came as little surprise that it opposed Pathways as well. But the disingenuousness of the union's conduct on this issue has been breathtaking nonetheless.

Even though debates over curricular requirements would seem well beyond the purview of a union, the PSC organized a plebiscite to express "no confidence" in Pathways, resulting in a 92 percent triumph for the union's position. (Perhaps a 99 percent tally was perceived as slightly too propagandistic.) Sadly, the results from this ballot--which amounted to little more than a push poll--were uncritically accepted by some in the media, even those who usually cover CUNY matters with rigor.

The rigging of the ballot procedures began from the start: the original ballots identified the professor's name, sending a message to untenured faculty that they could face retaliation if they didn't vote the union's way. The oppressive atmosphere that the PSC leadership has cultivated extended even to the ranks of the tenured; the most widely circulated critique of the union's position came from a pseudonymous e-mail penned by a senior faculty member, who concluded that "the union's leadership is uninterested in constructive dialog about anything," but declined to give his name for fear of retaliation.

Such arguments appeared nowhere on the ballot, which included language presenting only the union's arguments against Pathways, with no counter from faculty who supported the initiative. (So much, it seems, for academic dialogue and the importance of robust intellectual exchange.) Lest adjuncts have a chance to vote their self-interest--Pathways will give them a wider array of courses to teach, thus boosting their CV's and aiding their search for permanent employment--the union excluded adjuncts from voting in the plebiscite. Finally, having narrowed the electorate and presented one-sided ballot language, a PSC "organizer," John Gergely, contacted professors individually to pressure them to vote against the administration. (Faculty dues pay not only Gergely's salary but that of other "organizers" and even an "organizing coordinator"--although what they organize is unclear, since all full-time CUNY professors automatically have dues deducted from their paychecks, regardless of whether they join the union.)

Even then, a small minority voted against the union's position, while almost 40 percent of faculty members simply abstained. So: in a contest rigged in almost every manner, only a bare majority of all professors actually cast ballots in favor of the union's position. The plebiscite campaign was an embarrassment, even by the current union leadership's authoritarian standards, and should have received no weight. That it did, from any quarters in the media, is most unfortunate.

Inside Higher Ed reporter Allie Grasgreen has a piece today lionizing the students who've filed Title IX complaints to minimize the already weak due process protections for students accused of sexual assault on campus. (Richard Pérez-Peña covered this exact same topic and in some instances the exact same people, albeit in an even more fawning fashion, a few weeks ago.) I've previously noted Grasgreen's tendency to produce articles that read as if they're a press release from the OCR rather than a work of independent journalism, and this item is little different.

You can read the article here. But two points of tone and substance. On substance, here's how Grasgreen describes the path of Andrea Pino, a UNC student who filed a Title IX complaint against the school. (Pino claims that UNC's procedures, which among other things prevented accused students from being represented by counsel and from presenting evidence that might "otherwise infringe the rights of other students," unfairly treat accusers.) "After being raped at an off-campus party in March 2012, Pino felt let down by the people and policies that were supposed to protect her (an academic adviser told her she was lazy when her experience impacted her performance in the classroom; other students told her reporting the rape wouldn't do any good; her resident assistant wasn't supportive). At first, she didn't think she had any recourse."

It's possible, if unlikely, that Pino's resident advisor wasn't "supportive." But in a politically correct environment such as UNC's, it's all but inconceivable that an academic advisor, told by a student that she had been raped, would then turn around and call the student "lazy." Grasgreen gives no indication of having interviewed either the resident advisor or the academic advisor to confirm Pino's story; apparently, she saw her job as simply accepting Pino's portrayal of events. Similarly, Grasgreen bypasses the question of why Pino seemed focused on reporting the alleged crime to university officials rather than to the police. Wouldn't reporting the attack--and trying to get a rapist off the streets--be the first step of someone seeking "recourse"? Once again, the article simply accepts (without, it seems, any attempt at verification) Pino's version of events.

On a matter of tone: a bit later in the piece, Grasgreen mentions that the OCR's efforts have attracted criticism, most recently as a result of the University of Montana "blueprint." Her article describes FIRE as having "waged war on the Montana settlement." I didn't realize that press releases, interviews, and op-eds constitute waging "war."

She adds that FIRE has "said OCR's stance threatens the due process rights of alleged perpetrators." It's true that FIRE is always concerned with due process, and that due process rights were central to FIRE's response to the 2011 "Dear Colleague" letter. But FIRE's central criticism of the Montana blueprint has been that it imposes a national speech code, and in such a broad fashion that it essentially makes everyone on campus an "alleged perpetrator." The article downplays the speech code concerns by noting that OCR "responded in a letter" (actually, it appears, in an e-mail) "in late May, arguing that its rules 'do not require or prescribe speech, conduct or harassment codes that impair the exercise of rights protected under the First Amendment.'" Generally, e-mails to concerned citizens carry less weight that a formal legal settlement promulgated by both OCR and the Department of Justice.

I realize a higher-ed reporter must stay on good terms with sources, and in the contemporary academy, on matters relating to sexual assault procedures, those sources tilt very heavily in one direction. But surely it's worth giving the appearance, at least, of objectivity in coverage.

For forty years I labored in the groves of Academe as professor and dean. Though I learned many lessons in this four decade period, three of them are worth noting.

NYU, the place I called academic home, transformed itself from a "commuter school" into a "world class university" with campuses in Abu Dhabi and Shanghai and with students attending from every corner of the globe. Clearly reputations count, but questions emerges from this change: do the proliferation of "portals" influence the quality of the offerings? Is more better? And can one argue that having "academic stars" on and off campus, who rarely teach, benefit the academic enterprise?

Second, the Academy in general has gone through a metamorphosis. Despite a claim to fairness and openness which is ubiquitous across the academic landscape, most campuses have acquired an orthodoxy that is rarely challenged. It would be hard to espouse much less gain acceptance for ideas like Christian belief adherence, sexual abstinence, dominion over nature, pro-life acceptance, opposition to gay marriage, Absolute Truth, to cite several examples. Should one challenge the orthodoxy, tenure is likely to be denied and chastisement, in the form of rejection, likely to follow.

While liberal views prevailed at most campuses before the 1960's, there was a willingness to entertain "other," oppositional points of view - a reason why I sought a career in academic life in the first place - that standard is no longer the case. The outrage displayed over McCarthyite imposed conformity in the 1950's has been converted into the acceptance of the herd of independent thinkers who populate the campus today.

Last, arguably the most profound change, is the evolutionary belief that everyone should go to college. It is as if George Washington Carver, who argued for practical skills, lost a debate to W.E.B Dubois, who maintained a belief in higher learning for African Americans, except that this debate occurred on the national stage for all Americans. Mass higher education has changed the face of the Academy in several respects. Not only is "diversity" the calling card for admissions' officers, but government spending has exploded. Higher education has close to a $500 billion annual price tag attached to it and student loans are presently $690 billion (roughly $25,000 per student).

By contrast in 1970 Pell grants didn't exist and student loans in the aggregate were at $7 billion. Now President Obama contends every American should commit to at least one year of post-secondary education. Who will pay this bill and what are the intended and unintended consequences of enjoining his proposal? 

Obviously the bills will be absorbed by taxpayers in one way or another and Obama's intention is to offer opportunity for Americans in pursuit of employment. However, the unintended consequences are far more revealing.

As Bill Bennett (Bennett's Hypothesis) noted, increased government expenditures lead inexorably to increases in tuition, a cycle that leads to a need for more financial assistance. I contend, in what might be described as London's Law, that easily available money for higher education in the form of Title 4 grants and Stafford loans has democratized education, creating the impression everyone can and should go to college. The net effect is that many unqualified students enroll and rigorous academic standards have suffered. Instruction gravitates to the level of visible ability, thereby lowering standards across the board. Hence, easy money yields less intelligence than would otherwise be the case.

Yes, almost every professor over 50 would agree with this proposition, but it cannot be said. Nor is it easy to claim college isn't for everyone. It isn't, but try telling that to grandma who wants to see a grandchild with parchment in hand. This condition alone explains in large part why a nation with a 7.5 percent unemployment rate will soon have 1.5 million well paid computer engineering jobs left unfilled. We don't produce students with the skills for these positions; we don't maintain rigorous standards and we spend too much for too little received in the way of performance outcomes.

This week's Chronicle of Higher Education has a story on diversity in higher education that begins, "Despite decades of antidiscrimination policies and affirmations of equality, there's still little racial and ethnic diversity at the top at many of the colleges."

And last year, as legal challenges to affirmative action were building, the Board of Directors of the American Council on Education issued a firm statement entitled "On the Importance of Diversity in Higher Education" that justifies affirmative action on the grounds that it "enriches the educational experience" and "challenges stereotyped preconceptions" before concluding, "the diversity we seek and the future of the nation do require that colleges and universities continue to be able to reach out and make a conscious effort to build healthy and diverse learning environments that are appropriate for their missions."

A few months earlier, President Barry Mills of Bowdoin College issued a statement on liberal education that included the following paragraph:

As for affirmative action, my own view is that this is a necessary practice that has opened the doors of educational opportunity to many who never dreamed of being able to attend college--folks representing part of "the 99%" in America who are looking to better their lives and the lives of their families. I will be writing more over the coming months on the importance of considering race and economic means in the admissions process.

Now, there are factual objections to each of these statements.  The Chronicle story, for instance, opens with the assertion that "The Ivy League's senior leadership is overwhelmingly white and heavily male," but only a few sentences later notes that in executive, administrative, and managerial positions, women hold "a majority of such jobs at five of the eight Ivies" (five of the eight Ivies have female presidents, too).  Likewise, the ACE rationales for affirmative action are debatable, as recent and oft-discussed research by Richard Sander and others have demonstrated.  And Mills's assertion--because of affirmative action "many who never dreamed of being able to attend college" can now do so--is patently ridiculous, for most colleges in the United States are not selective in admissions.

But it's time to drop these factual and logical objections and opt for a simpler, more direct response to certain campus leaders who insist on the necessity of affirmative action in admissions and hiring.  History has shown that reasoned arguments against affirmative action make no difference to people who support it.  They are committed to it for reasons that often go beyond empirical and logical grounds, including liberal guilt and white guilt, and guilt that searches for expiation through policy is never going to be satisfied.

The overheated condition of race matters in the U.S. calls for a different approach.  When white male President Mills pledges to press for race-based affirmative action, the right reply is this: "Well, then, sir, you must resign your post immediately and call for Bowdoin to hire a racial or ethnic minority in your place."  Keep it simple and direct.  Every white male board member of the ACE should receive a message to step down. Let's ask white male campus leaders to stand up for their own principles and do the thing they want everybody else to do.  When white women acquire a disproportionate number of jobs in campus leadership, yet still call for more diversity, they, too, should be asked to withdraw.

This is the logic of affirmative action, and if diversity proponents who are white follow it to its conclusion, they should relinquish their positions as soon as possible.

Quite a few people have built careers in higher education around the supposed need to study how different groups compare, and when the inevitable disparities are discovered, setting up programs to address the "underrepresentation problem." To get a sense of just how deeply ingrained such thinking is, consider this piece from Inside Higher Ed, "The Deceptive Data on Asians."

In it, we learn that a recent study by ETS and a group called the National Commission on Asian-American and Pacific Islander Research in Education has demanded that colleges and universities collect and report disaggregated data about Asian-American students "as much as possible."

We need such data because Asians have been cast as "the model minority" and therefore beyond the purview of all our "affirmative action" policies. Once you disaggregate the data, however, you can find all kinds of imbalances and inequities that cry out for attention.

If you look at the charts in the story, you see that there are huge differences in educational attainment between students with different Asian ancestries. For example, those with Hmong ancestry have much lower educational levels (only 14.7 percent having earned a B.A. or higher) than do those of Taiwanese descent (74.1 percent). Now we can see that there are serious problems that have been, in the words of Professor Robert Teranishi of New York University, "overlooked and misunderstood."

Obviously, we need more "outreach" to the groups that are "underrepresented."

For the sake of argument, let's take this idea seriously. The disaggregation proposed doesn't go nearly far enough. Colleges and supposed to report, e.g., "Sri Lankan" as a category, but Sri Lanka is a badly divided country with considerable inequality among its five main ethnic groups: the Sinhalese, Tamils, Muslims, Burghers, and Veddah. It's likely that there are imbalances lurking in the data for Sinhalese Sri Lankan-American students and Tamil Sri Lankan-American students. Don't we need to find out?

And don't forget the possibility of sub-dividing those groups to find still more inequalities.

After reading that report, college administrators are no doubt envisioning the prospect of creating new programs and offices to run them. UC-Berkeley's Division of Equity and Inclusion might, for example, expand to address the needs of students of Laotian, Bangladeshi, and Filipino heritage, and maybe even the more "disadvantaged" groups of Taiwanese once they've been identified. The disaggregated data could be the investment capital for a new growth industry.

Instead, I suggest that we welcome the study as an occasion to reflect on the folly of grouping people according to race, ethnicity, social class, religion, or anything else, and then assuming that any group differences indicate problems we must solve. Relatively few Americans of Hmong ancestry have earned college degrees, but there are no official barriers to prevent more from doing so. The existence of the array of educational opportunities in California and other states is known to those people and if most don't think that more education is best for them, that's fine. If and when more of them want to attend college, they'll do so.

Statistics are often used as the excuse for government meddling. That's true for unemployment, trade, housing, and emphatically so with regard to education. Putting students into smaller and smaller pigeon holes on the basis of their background is unnecessary and divisive. Time to stop doing so.

Odysseus, in Homer's Odyssey, orders himself tied to the mast of his ship so he can hear the beautiful song of the Sirens without risking the usual gruesome fate of those who sail too close to the singers.

This lesson - if you know you are going to make a bad decision you should tie your own hands to prevent it - is one that Washington should heed when it comes to student loan interest rates. There are now at least six different proposals to deal with the scheduled interest rate increase from 3.4% to 6.8% for some student loans. Fortunately, four of them are trying to applying Odysseus' lesson, though unfortunately, the other proposals are getting much more attention.

This is more than a little bizarre, since policymakers have not determined whether the government is making or losing money on student loans (the current numbers do not answer this question accurately) and how much we want to (and can afford to) pay to subsidize student loans. In other words, policymakers are arguing over the best route to take, despite the fact that they have no idea where we are right now or where we're trying to go. Predictably, this results in a political circus, as exemplified by two recent examples.

The first is Senator Elizabeth Warren's proposal to lower the student loan interest rate to 0.75% from 3.4% (scheduled to increase to 6.8% next month). The ostensible rationale is that 0.75% is the rate the Federal Reserve charges banks for lending at the discount window. This is a seriously flawed idea. Three key determinants of the interest rate for any loan are the length of loan, the chance of defaulting, and how much collateral is pledged. Loans from the Fed discount window are often for one night, are given to the same "lenders" who have a long histories of repayment, and are required to have collateral pledged.

In contrast, student loans are typically not repaid for at least a decade, have no collateral pledged, and result in a 13.4% default within three years. Why anybody would think discount-window loans and student loans should have the same interest rate has stumped most analysts. Brookings scholars Matthew Chingos and Beth Akers said it best when they concluded:  "Sen. Warren's proposal should be quickly dismissed as a cheap political gimmick."

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